Date Stories, J

J: Can you leave?

Context: I matched with ‘Puppy Dog’ on Tinder mostly because his bio said he was 6’3 and worked in Congress. As a woman on a mission to go on a date with a hill staffer from each state, I was intrigued. I messaged him asking who he represented, and he responded with the name of a New Hampshire Senator. New state! JACKPOT! We made plans to meet on a Thursday evening at Penn Social.

Let’s talk escape plans.


So, picture this. You find yourself on a date with a catfishing dude who doesn’t seem like he’ll pay for you, has absolutely no personality, and has not broken eye contact with your tits for the last hour. The seconds are passing slower than treadmill AND microwave seconds, COMBINED. Yikes. How do you get out?

“Oh my god, my water just broke! I need to go to the hospital!”? Points for drama, but could send you down a complicated path.

“I just remembered that I’m actually a lesbian!”? Idk man, some guys are into that…

“Yeah, I have plans to meet my friends in Georgetown at 8, so I have to head out at 7:30”? BINGO.


Thus, when I returned from the gym Thursday afternoon to find that a guy friend had added me to a Tinder Social group, I knew I had an escape route should my date turn out to be less-than-ideal. Excellent foresight, J.

The first warning sign should have been that, although I had given this gent my phone number, he was still messaging me on Tinder. Did he have a secret identity? A tortured past? An iPod Touch with Tinder (but not text) capabilities? Inquiring minds needed to know. Thus, I arrived at Penn Social at 6 expecting an undercover spy… and was met with nothing. Where you at, bro?


Five minutes later, as I’m contemplating leaving to get tacos with another dude*, I get a Tinder message from Puppy Dog.
PD: Hey I’ll be there in a minute! I’m wearing a Vineyard Vines shirt and jeans cuz I’m basic lolz.
LE SIGHHH. I am immediately reminded why I hate Hill staffers. Do it for the list, J. For the glory. For the free drinks**.

*First date from February who has returned from the dead, and by ‘dead’ I mean ‘trenches of Med School.’
**Yeah, mostly for this.

He shows up at 6:09 and is like, ok looking, but NOT 6’3. I had considered wearing wedges to test his honesty, and immediately regret my decision not to. I live for intimidating fuckboys, and this dude was the most basic of them all. Next time.


Our conversation was… fine… but homeboy was kind of strange. Roll the tapes!

…what’s that? There aren’t any tapes? I still don’t have my own sitcom? Ugh. Fine. Quotes it is.
PD: My roommate and I just bought a kitten. He’s two months old, and we bought him a harness so he can be an adventure cat!
J: An… adventure cat?
PD: Yeah! We’re taking him hiking this weekend! But he keeps escaping the harness and is pretty scared of it, so we’ll need to figure that out before we take him to the mountains.
J: *Facepalm*

PD: Yeah, one of the perks of working for a senator is that people try to do things for you all the time.
J: What kind of things?
PD: You know, free massages, free guns…
J: So, you’re a Republican?
J: *Walks to bathroom, presses forehead against door, sobs quietly*


J: I’m actually meeting up with some of my guy friends in Georgetown at 8, so I should get going soon!
PD: I actually don’t have any plans tonight!
J: That’s cool? Well, my friend K is in an Uber, but looks like he’s actually coming here…
PD: So, should I hang out? Get another beer? Marry you? Beer?
J: …let’s take a walk.

At this point, it has become very evident that Puppy Dog has no intention of leaving my side for the rest of the night. AWESOME. My plan? To locate K in his Uber along our way, tuck and roll into the car, and immediately change courses. Pup will never find me! Freedom is mine!!!

tuck roll

…freedom wasn’t mine. K texted me 20 minutes later (after PD and I had circled Gallery Place three times, and I had somehow managed to deflect his increasingly sexual questions by telling him my spirit animal, favorite color, and mother’s maiden name) to let me know he was inside Penn Social. Moment of truth.

Bouncer: IDs, please.
PD: *Begins to remove ID from wallet*
J: Actually, this is kind of a college reunion* thing, and we really want some gossip and bonding time, and can you go now? Please?
PD: Oh! Uhh, sure, yeah… have fun?
J: *Awkward side hug* Sayonara!!!


*It bears saying that Puppy Dog went to my college, and K did not. Whatever.

Good news: Free beers!
More good news: Since he never actually saved my phone number, I can just unmatch him on Tinder, and be free forever!
Bad news: Somewhere in Arlington, a poor, defenseless two-month-old kitten is being put in a harness and taken on adventures.

Kitten, if you’re reading this, come to me. You’re safe here.

cat leash


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