After I talked about my type yesterday, I got thinking more about type and dating and such. There’s a funny blog called My Very Worst Date. It’s pretty self-explanatory. There’s also an awesome blog called I Bang the Worst Dudes (they took the URL sorry-mom.com, so, sadly, I couldn’t). Both of these blogs are examples of blogs that are super funny and that I could probably keep going entirely with my own stories!
And that’s why I have my own blog — I can share all my most horrifying moments with the world for a laugh. And so I decided to share my three worst date stories here! And start thinking about your own very worst date…after reading your cheesiest pick-up lines, I realized another contest is in order, so start brainstorming. I’ll outline the details on Friday!
Today, we’ll start with the unfortunate date I went on last fall…
I had just discovered how awesome Twitter was and was using it regularly and getting a lot of followers. One night I Tweeted that I was heading to Ann Arbor and a guy Tweeted back at me to ask me what I was doing there. On further investigation, I found that he worked for an online newspaper in Michigan. He seemed liked a good connection to have, so when he DMd me, I wrote back, and we eventually progressed to e-mail. I really needed friends/writing gigs in Michigan so I was all about it. From my stalking, I couldn’t tell if he was cute or not…he was one of those that could go either way in person. I could tell that he was soooooo not my type — he was a vegetarian and a photographer.(Sorry but I tend to date the kind of guys who eat meat on sticks. Drive a hybrid? Awesome, the environment thanks you! I’ll be keeping my pants on.)
Eventually we ended up meeting for drinks and I really wasn’t sure if it was networking or a date, but I figured…who cares? If he’s attractive, then it’s a date, right??
So. I get to the date and the first thing I notice is he’s wearing jeans, a blazer, and white sneakers. I’m not saying I’ve never hooked up with guys who wear this look, but on him, it came off as douchey. Or maybe I just got the douche vibe because he used the word “bounce” three times within the first five minutes. As in, “This place is packed, so let’s just bounce somewhere else.”
Three times. I don’t know that I’ve said that phrase in seriousness three times in my entire life.
Then the fist bumping started. We were walking around, looking for another bar — and all were packed because it was a Friday night, so we couldn’t get a table anywhere — and anytime I said something he even remotely agreed with, he’d say, “Pound it right here” and offer me a fist. To bump. Which I did pound because what the hell else was I going to do?! (I did draw the line when he went for a high five. I have, like, an issue high-fiving people and if anyone ever attempts to do it with me, I shut them down.)
So we walked and walked and finally got to a bar that was pretty deserted. You know, if a bar is deserted on a Friday night, there’s probably a reason. It was awful. Imagine if the Motel Six decided to put a bar in their motels and then decided to go with a cheesy German theme for it. Got an image in your head? OK perfect. So imagine me there…getting to know a fist-bumping vegetarian photographer.
He started telling me about all his hippie liberalness and the whole time, I was thinking, “You cannot possibly know how badly this is hurting your chances of hooking up with me!” Then he started to go after me for eating meat, which was obnoxious because I barely ate meat then; what would he do if he was out with a real steak-lover? It was a first date. So I said something about how I ate meat but tried to choose sustainable options because I’m very interested in food politics…and he said he wasn’t sure what I meant by that. Uh, you cannot be a hippie liberal vegetarian Democrat saddling up your high horse if you don’t even know what “Food, Inc.” is.
Then, still on the topic of politics, he said, “So I noticed your Facebook profile says ‘There’s some Republican in me.’ What’s that all about?”
That was a joke about the fact that I don’t bang hippie liberal vegetarian guys. But can you say that on a first date?
Throughout the date, he referenced Facebook and my blog a lot. Now usually that’s not a big deal — most people know a lot about me before they meet me and it doesn’t bother me at all. But he had really done his research…and then, it seemed, decided it was a good idea to both show off how much he knew about me…while simultaneously trying to to pretend he just knew what my favorite books were.
Every time the topic of Facebook, Twitter, blogging, or technology came up, he’d say, “Facebook is so amazing! Like, I’m going to check it right now!” Then he’d whip out his iPhone and, um…like update his Facebook status? I don’t even know, but I found it super annoying. Live Tweeting our date? Especially because this was always followed by a fist bump. “Pound it here.”
And then he started telling me while he likes writing and photography, he’s really an artist.
(As I’m writing this, I’m starting to want to re-title this entry, “How to Not Get Me in Bed Ever.” I mean, I consider myself open-minded but there’s a reason I don’t usually stray from my type.)
Anyway, he whips out his iPhone again to show me pictures of his art. And, to be fair, the art wasn’t bad. He’s actually pretty good. But then he told me that he was working on a picture of Ingrid Michaelson because he was going to her concert next week and he was going to give her the picture after the concert.
(More updating of his Facebook status/fist bumping occurred at that point.)
I was starting to lose my ability to keep a straight face, so I suggested we call it a night. Oh no, excuse me — I suggested we bounce. He walked me to my car and I was really, really hoping he didn’t try anything, but luckily, after a hug and a fist bump, I was free.
The moral of the story is totally don’t date guys you meet on the Internet…but if I had truly learned that lesson, well, then we’d have no more worst date stories this week and no more datecation!
All right, that’s all I got for today. Check back tomorrow for a Cinco de Mayo gone terrible wrong!
(Pound it right here! Let’s bounce!)