(Part I and Part II here )
The Music Mogul
When, like me, you use online dating apps for a long time, you begin to pick up on red flags in the subtext of people's profiles an conversations. Sadly, I began talking to MM before I had spent enough time on okCupid to perceive that "work in my sweatpants" was a characteristic I should have stayed far away from.
We had planned to meet for drinks--having decided that neither of us wanted dinner--and set out for some trendy West Village brewhouse. By the time we had arrived (he was wearing jeans and not sweats...I'll get to that) the place had become so shoulder-to-shoulder crowded it was no longer a viable date option. Unfamiliar with the neighborhood I suggested we just walk down the street to see what else we could find. He was pleasant enough and agreed that was a better option than standing on the street corner searching yelp for the next fifteen minutes. As we passed bars he seemed to have a new and escalating complaint for each of them. I never mind walking around so this didn't upset me, but when he stopped me to look at a menu, declared that he hadn't eaten all day, and that he wanted pizza, I was a little agitated.
Under the fluorescent lights, we took a seat by the window and searched the drink menu. He laughed when I suggested wine, and insisted we order some Italian beers. Italy is known for their beer! He ordered a whole pizza, did not offer to share, and was shocked when I ordered a small bread a cheese plate, because, of course, as one does when you just meet for drinks, I had already eaten. He then accused me of possibly having an eating disorder. He would know, because he used to be a talent scout and has met many women with eating disorders. I make a joke about my therapist signing off on my diet and, unexpectedly, he turned ice cold. When I expressed that I was making a joke he told me that his younger brother is severely autistic and that my joke isn't funny because people have REAL problems. I apologized for upsetting him, but pointed out that those two things really aren't related. I could see he wanted to disagree with me, but instead he took the opportunity to talk about the struggles of being the brother of an autistic kid. I empathize, but he still seemed dissatisfied.
Our food arrived and we switched gears. Trying to choke down what was honest-to-God a TERRIBLE cheese plate (how?!) I ask him about his job. He was surprisingly reluctant to tell me anything, considering the detail to which he described his familial problems.
"Well you said in your profile you work in your sweatpants. So you work from home?"
"Sure. I work from home."
Upon further probing I discovered that after years spent as a talent scout in L.A. he moved to NYC to work in finance, but along the way uncovered how to make money by creating fake albums and posting them to Spotify under different aliases. Knowing that a single listen to a song on spotify earns the artist only $.01, I cannot imagine how many made-up musical artists this guy has created in order to sustain a life in a studio apartment in Manhattan with no other source of income. Needless to say I was rather disquieted.
This date was several years ago and the only lasting memory of everything after that conversation was him telling me how he was incredible at his former job because he could notice really acute details about people from their appearance. For instance, he proudly proclaimed, that he was probably the only person to notice that I parted my hair slightly to the side instead of on center. Of course, he didn't think that I had actually done it on purpose because parting one's hair to the side is, according to him, quite rare and usually accidental. So since I apparently don't have the mental capacity to make decisions about how to wear my hair I decided I didn't have the capacity to return any of his text messages after either.
When I dyed my hair a few months later and posted a photo on OKC with my hair in a middle part he sent me a message to compliment me on getting it right that time.
Craptastic Correspondent
Fairly recently I went out with a guy from Tinder. Since Tinder offers far less information about potential dates, I tend to go on fewer of them from that particular app, but when I found a guy from Ohio with a masters degree from Columbia, it didn't seem like such a scary prospect.
I met him around the corner for a drink, and despite his acid-wash jeans and beer t-shirt he was handsome and seemed to have a sense of humor. After about twenty minutes of stimulating discussion, I paused to take a sip of my beer when he started to ask me what would be an entire questionnaire. Favorite movie? Favorite magazine? TV Show? Book? I obliged him for several then couldn't take it any longer and asked him if he thought this was his idea of organic conversation. He apologized, chalking it up to ADD.
Knowing he is a writer I inquired about what sort of pieces he works on, but he (a white boy from suburban Cleveland) disregarded the question and instead gave an entire diatribe against people who dislike Kanye West, who was previously not part of the conversation in any capacity. I listened patiently, trying to make counterarguments about a topic I care absolutely nothing about when he cut me off to ask me which presidential candidate I plan to vote for. I told him it was none of his business and changed the subject.
I don't remember exactly to what topic I changed the conversation, but apparently I had then opened some window through which he felt it was then ok to ask me what I believe happens when people die, am I religious, do I think spirituality is real--questions no person should really ever ask on a first date. My reaction, of course, was that he was simply not interested in me, but didn't know how to end the date so I asked to close my tab.
This act apparently snapped him to his senses or something because he immediately got very mopey and became concerned that I was having a bad time. I told him honestly that I thought his inquiries were inappropriate and that I had no intention of answering them nor sticking around to be scrutinized any further. He again apologized saying that as an investigative journalist it is simply his nature to ask such hard-hitting questions. Mind you, he edits web videos for a women's lifestyle magazine. I left the date nodding about whatever plans he was making to hang out again.
He texted me a week or so later to tell me that he was out at one of my old Columbia haunts talking to a bartender friend of mine. This past week when I happened to stop by that same bar, the mutual bartender mentioned that some guy came in asking about me and bragging about how he had taken me out, but claimed that I had a stick up my ass because I wouldn't call him back.
Maybe I do have a stick up my ass, but at least I know how to converse with other living humans in face-to-face situations.
Millennial Monster
Since guys my age are still at the same maturity level as when their testicles descended, I try to date men a few years older than me to even the playing field. This is a broad generalization, I know, so it's not a hard rule. Sometimes, though, when I find myself on a date with another 25 year old I can't help but be reminded of the horror of the current state of communication in our world. I am speaking, of course, about emojis. One or two emoticons slipped into conversation here and there is fine : /, but when people replace entire sentences it is time for me to tap out. In the case of this boy, who for a week or so of online chatting seemed perfectly capable of adult conversation, asked me on a date, I agreed to go. We made plans on a Monday for the following Saturday and things seemed fine. Until Wednesday, when I got this message:
This is a message I have literally no idea how to respond to. It hurts me on so many levels that even if I did know the appropriate response, I wouldn't be physically capable of sending one. This is when I knew I had made a bad decision. The problem, however, is that this guy was unbelievable hot, and the shallow idiot inside of me decided I would still go on this date.
He turned out to be not only minimally interested in anything I had to say, but almost unbearably rapey. We were going to what he insisted was a "sexy club" and I should wear something scandalous. Feeling good about my body for once I wore my version of sexy which involves high-wasted jeans, a crop top, and an oversized blazer because I am some weak little bitch that caves in the face of social pressure.
The place turned out to be a cafe/bar with projectors playing football so it was not the sexy club I was told to expect, which put me at ease...at first. Without going into too much shameful detail, he basically tried to put his hands on me any opportunity he could get. He interjected into every single topic of conversation by interrupting me mid-sentence to tell me how beautiful my eyes are, or how hot my top was. He, at one point, tried to put his hand inside my blazer to put his hand on my back. When he planted a kiss on my face when I returned from the bathroom I called it quits a few minutes later and told him I was closing out.
He accused me of being a tease and told me I need to relax. I deleted his number from my phone and blocked him on okcupid. I am very conflicted because I feel like this should have a been a teaching moment of some sort in which I dramatically threw my beer into his face or shoved him into the bar. I didn't feel unsafe, fortunately, just uncomfortable, and was certainly not looking to get kicked out of a casual speakeasy at 10 o'clock at night. What is frightening though is that aside from his immaturity, he gave no warning signs of being so out of touch with appropriate first date behavior. Sadly, my only advice for avoiding situations like this is to stay home and get a pet bird.
Bar Burgling
There are good dates and there are bad dates. Yet, even when dates go well you have to keep in mind that this is New York City where everybody is just trying to catch a D even if that means stealing other people's dates out from under them.
I was out with a rather nice guy and things seemed to be going well. We were several drinks in and nature was calling so I excused myself and went to the restroom. When I returned I could tell that he was a little fidgety and kind of flushed so I asked him if everything was alright. He hesitated, looking around as if to see if anyone was listening before he replied. According to him, while I was relieving myself, another girl had come up to the table saying something to the following effect:
"I know you're on a date right now, but you are the most incredible-looking guy I have ever seen in my life and if things don't go well I would like you to call me."
Whether she slipped him a number or not he never revealed to me, but my goodness, the guts! While I applaud for her for having the confidence to pull a move like that, knowing how much work goes into filtering through jerks on the internet I do not appreciate her piggy-backing. Fortunately, the fact that he even told me this happened must have been a good sign, and we did go on seeing each other for a while.
Dating in New York is hard, so bitches back off.
Forgive my rusty writing. Since I am currently not running the dating circuit my stories are pretty scarce, but if you'd like me to continue writing on other mindless topics show me some positive reinforcement so I don't continue to do this and make myself look like an idiot.
