Maybe I’m just bored at work, or maybe the random blogs I
was killing time reading got in my head. Either way, I’m inspired to write;
which is exactly what I’m going to do.
One of the blogs I stumbled upon earlier highlighted the
writer’s disaster OKCupid date. As I read it I thought, I can totally top this.
Not only with a handful of horrific OKCupid dates, but with a bunch of other catastrophes
ranging from the “never should have met you again sober” to “I hate my friend
for thinking this blind was a good idea”. Therefore, this is the start of my
new blog series: Dating Disasters.\
I guess I’ll begin with my OKCupid experience. I went on a
total of 3 dates from the popular dating website, each one was worse than the
previous one. Let’s start with the most recent, because it is fresh in my mind
and one of my worst dating experiences, of my life.
Let me preface by saying that all of my OK experience happened
while still living in San Francisco. I have heard great things about the dating
website from friends around the country, including SF; unfortunately I did not
fare as well as they did. On one particularly rainy SF night, I was bored in my
room contemplating braving the rain and walking to my local dive bar for a
drink when I got an email from OK that I’d received a new message. It caught my
attention because it was sarcastic and the guy was decent looking in his
picture-plus he was Jewish which was a plus (for my mom more so than me); so I
decided to write him back. We chatted via email for a while, which helped pass
the time as it poured outside. Before I went to sleep, we exchanged phone
numbers and promised to text tomorrow. Wow, even as I write this I’m depressed
by how dependent I am on technology…
The following morning, I woke up to a “good morning” text,
aww, how sweet. I was convinced I’d found my soul mate. We spent the day
sending cute texts to each other-every chance I got at work I was in the back
room checking my phone and responding to one witty text after another. After a
few days of this we decided it was time to meet for drinks, so we made plans
for the following Friday. I was working until 10pm that night and chose a bar
nearby to meet him at, Gold Dust. For those of you who are familiar with SF,
you now know how long ago this date occurred-Gold Dust was still in business.
Man, I miss that bar.
I ended up getting out of work a few minutes early and made
my way to the bar. I ordered a drink and started talking to two older women;
they had to be in their 60’s. They were on vacation and although they’d only
been there a night, they loved San Francisco. I told them that I was waiting
for a guy I’d met online, this made them giggle and we came up with a signal in
case he turned out to be a creep. It consisted of rubbing my nose frantically. I finished my drink and realized he was 10
minutes late. Rude. Not a great first impression. As I begin to bitch to my new
best friends, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up-not very far I might add,
he totally lied about his height-and finally looked face to face with the guy I’d
been texting for the last week.
“Hi! Melvin?” I asked, trying to sound coy. “No, I’m just some
random guy-um, yeah, Melvin,” followed by, “This place blows, let’s find somewhere
a little bit classier.” My new best friends immediately began frantically
rubbing their noses.
I told him I had to say goodbye to my friends and would meet
him outside. I assured them that I would be ok and told them it was probably just
too noisy, that he wanted somewhere quieter to talk. We exchanged numbers and
they told me to text them every half hour to ensure my safety.
After discussing where to go for a good five minutes and
getting harassed by four homeless people, we decided on Lefty O’Doul’s; well, I
decided on it, he wanted to go to the top of the Mark. I was not dressed for
it, nor could I afford a night of drinking at their rooftop bar, so I suggested
a “quiet bar” aka total dive.
We found a table in the very back, away from all human
interaction and settled down to look at the drink menu. Seconds after sitting a
waitress came over to take our drink order and check our ID’s. I think I was
24, he was around 28. I handed her my ID and he says (I kid you not), “It looks
real, huh? I told her it was money well spent.” The waitress looked at me skeptically.
I assured her I was in fact over 24; she did not believe me. I explained that
he thought he was being funny, that it’s a first date and is probably just
trying to break the ice. She glared at me as if to say I wasn't going to get away
with lying on her watch, and then quizzed me on all of my personal information.
When she ran out of things to quiz, she left to get our drinks, but not before
stopping to confer with the bartender; thankfully, I’m an alcoholic and I like
to get to know my bartenders-he glanced over, waved, and assured her I was good
to serve. Melvin thought this whole ordeal was the funniest situation of his
life.
I decided that he was simply nervous and passed off the
hellish “fake ID” crap as an immature attempt to make me laugh. We began
chatting about ourselves. He went to Harvard where he studied Business. He
hates his job but doesn’t want to go through the college crap again, so he’s
stuck suffering at a boring 9-5. He thought it was hot that I’m an intellectually
inferior Connecticut girl who only went to SF State. He was concerned that if things escalated
between us, romantically, he wouldn’t remember to dumb things down for me in
conversations. We’re only ten minutes into the date and he has made the
waitress doubt my age and insulted my intellect. The waitress comes by to see
how we’re doing. I down my drink and order another; her eyes clearly say, “I’m
so sorry you’re stuck on a date with this guy.”
Drink number two arrives (third of the night for me) and we
somehow begin discussing family. He tells me that for all he knows his family
is no longer alive. He left at 18 and never looked back. He hated his parents,
his mom for being fat and his dad for letting her eat. Women should only eat
lady-like things, like salad, but be able to cook well for their husbands. Was
this the same guy I’d been sending flirty texts to all week?! What the fuck was
happening?
I’m halfway through my drink when he asks how my relationship
with my family is. I tell him that we’re actually very close. I try to talk
with my mom daily. He looks at me life I’m a Martian and begins telling me how
little respect he has for me and the fact that I have a good relationship with
my family is insane. He tells me that it’s time to grow the fuck up and leave
my family behind; old things are meant to be things of the past. This was the
icing on the already shitty cake. I texted the women from earlier that I need
an escape. I lie and tell him I have to go help a friend. He offers to come
with. I tell him it’s a solo mission. He says that the night is still young (it
was 11pm at this point, yeah, I ended the date after 45 minutes) and suggests
that I help my friend then call him so we can still have fun. I lie and say I
have work early. He finally agrees to let me go, but insists on walking me to
my next destination. I couldn’t tell him I was going back to Gold Dust, so I
had him walk me to Muni. He bought a ticket and wanted to wait on the platform
with me until my train came. The creep wouldn’t leave me alone! So, I got on a
train, waved goodbye, rode the train one stop, hopped off and doubled back to
the bar where I hung out with the awesome older ladies for an hour, laughing
about what an idiot Melvin had been. I then grabbed a train home and called it
a night.
The following morning I woke up to a text from him,
complaining that we hadn’t had sex the previous night. Seriously?!?! Did he
honestly think sex was on the table after I bailed on the date a 45 minutes? I
chose not to respond, mainly due to the fact that I was incredibly hung over
and typing into my phone made me feel nauseous, but also because he was a jerk.
He texted me again later that day, asking when I wanted to
hang out again; apparently he had a really great time, you know, putting me
down and criticizing every aspect of my life. I kindly responded that I felt we
were both in two very different places in our lives right now, and I just didn’t
see a future for us. He didn’t respond so I assumed I was done with him. Nope.
Never assume a happy ending with dealing with someone who is clearly a
psychopath.
A few days passed and I heard nothing, I began to heal from
the trauma of the date from hell and even accepted a date with a guy I’d met at
a bar with friends (a story for another blog post, I promise). That was when
the daily texts began; each one more confusing that the last-I think he was
trying to drive me insane. The first simply read, “I know, right?”. I assumed
he had sent it to the wrong person and ignored it. The next day I got one that
read, “She did not wear those shoes with that shirt. Ewe.” At this point I
began to glance around myself to ensure he wasn’t following me, I thought maybe
he had become my own personal stalker. I didn’t notice him anywhere (who knows,
maybe he camouflaged) so I ignored it and went on with my day. The third text,
which came the third day read, “I don’t understand why fat people think it’s OK
to go out in public.” I’m assuming that one was a jab at his mom? Maybe they
finally had a reunion. Again, I ignored. Texts like these continued for 7 days,
each getting more detailed and targeting people or races. Finally I sent him a
text, apologizing if I hadn’t made myself clear before but I’m not interested
in pursuing any sort of relationship with him, romantic or platonic. I also
asked for him to please stop texting me, it’s inappropriate and has to stop.
His response? “Who is this?”
I did end up learning a very valuable lesson through the whole
ordeal: How to block someone’s number to prevent them from texting you in the
future. Yeah, there’s an app for that J
