Category: Date Stories (page 1 of 9)

J: The wannabe fuckboy

Context: I matched with Wannabe on Coffee Meets Bagel, which is literally the worst dating app ever and tbh I have no idea why it’s still taking up precious memory on my phone but whatever. He quickly brought up that we work for the same company, which I know I advise against but I was drunk so I pressed on. We attempted to set up a date for the following Thursday evening.

I don’t know what it is about guys self-declaring as fuckboys these days but it has become almost as bad as the fuckboy epidemic itself. For example, when Fish Lips said he loved Brixton and I said ew no it’s a fuckboy paradise and he moved his hands demostratively up and down his torso and said “well have you seen me?!” and then I wept.

Or, when Jack #3 and I were having beers at Rebellion* and I asked him what his hobbies were.
J3: I mean, I like watching sports and just chilling on my couch with my buddies, I guess kind of being a fuckboy.


*I’m currently in the middle of a post about Jack #3, which should be done tomorrow, depending on which hour of the day I begin drinking.

…As if on cue, I just spilled rosé on my keyboard. Caught in the act.

The sad part of all of this is that I can totally see where they’re coming from. Fuckboys are, unfortunately, desirable. They are the guys who will lure you in and then ruin your life and then, because ladies are sick and twisted masochists as a rule, keep you coming back for more. Pardon me while I go question all of my life choices.

Side note: if you haven’t yet read this Betches article about fuckboy Ken dolls I highly recommend. V entertaining and also mildly upsetting because it’s too real.

ANYWAY. Back to Wannabe. So homeboy doesn’t look that cute but his CMB profile said he was 6’4 so I was like ok you can buy me two drinks, and we tried to set something up for a Thursday afternoon. I was at happy hour at Perry’s with my friend R the evening before when he started suggesting places.

Ugh. Don Tito’s. The perfect reminder of why I don’t date guys who live in Arlington. Regardless, there were free drinks at stake, so I chose the lesser of the evils.

Also, I would like to note that this is the first use of “your” in a place where “you’re” is grammatically correct. Rest assured, we will revisit this topic later in the story.

NOPE. Shut it down, boys, shut it down.

I wanted to reach through my phone and strangle him with the belt I had cinched around my swing dress, but I can’t do that without going to jail for homicide, so I did the next best thing – reduce response length and then attempt to ghost him entirely. He texted me several times asking how my happy hours were going (they’re happy hours, they were grand, why won’t you stop talking to me) while I didn’t respond. Finally the texts ceased and I thought he had gotten the point.


I’m happily working away the next day, relishing in the newest Ke$ha jam, when my phone vibrates. The wannabe fuckboy hath return-ed.

tbh the funniest part of this whole conversation is this part right here where I say I’m over fuckboys

Thinking I have evaded this conversation through my sharp tongue and visible emotional walls, I heaved a sigh of relief and peacefully returned to my work. But, OH CONTRAIRE, MES AMIS, Wannabe was NOT giving up without a fight. Or a novel. Mostly the latter. See below:

Luckily, Savage is my middle name, even though I don’t include that in my monogram.

EVEN AFTER I SENT HIM A SCREENSHOT OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOUR AND YOU’RE HE STILL DID NOT GO AWAY. You can’t make this shit up, guys. He came back with the following:
W – Haha, grammar isn’t my strong suit, but I make up for it by making beautiful PowerPoint slides!

No shit, Sherlock, we’re management consultants. Literally 90% of what we do is build slide decks. Ya ain’t special. So, I never responded, went to an outdoor concert with my friend C instead, and thought I had heard the last of Wannabe.

…that is until I was attending a company speed networking happy hour a few weeks later. I checked the list of attendees to see if the guy I had met once but was like super in love with would be there (no dice; it’s fine, I’ll wait for you, babe) and one of the names seemed familiar. TOO familiar. I checked our internal LinkedIn to confirm my suspicious.
Mama – It is so.

It was him. There were 20 attendees. It was speed networking.

I was fucked.

Luckily, networking is the name of my game, and I knew that with the right tactics I would be able to avoid Wannabe throughout the duration of the event. Aka if we got even remotely close to each other I would just order another drink and double fist my way into the bathroom where I would hide until my drinks were empty. Rinse and repeat.

Miraculously, this technique worked! He definitely knew who I was, but we managed to avoid contact for the entire evening. I then sprinted away to the metro to go brag about my accomplishments to my friends at trivia. #HUMBLE – Kendrick Lamar – J.

Also, if you didn’t already understand that this is the weirdest dude ever from the above commentary, I later realized that he’s in charge of the newsletter for our Men’s Employee Resource Group which should almost definitely not be a thing.

I should really stop going on dates with coworkers.

But where would the excitement be in that?


J: The pregnancy scare

Context: My dear friend KC matched with Daddy on Bumble one morning when we were trying to recruit randos to go to Trio brunch with us. As one does. He couldn’t make it, but did follow through the next weekend, bringing himself and his roommate to brunch at Front Page. Because if you don’t do at least one brunch per weekend, do you even live in DC? Continue reading

J: You’re on probation

My best friend KC matched with AdMo aka Jack #1 on Bumble in February. They went on  a few dates, hooked up a few times, and then he vanished from the face of the Earth… until reappearing one day in her text message inbox, an unwelcomed ghost from the past. He asked her to join him for drinks, she asked me to come along, and the rest is history aka the story I’m about to tell you. Continue reading

J: Who is this mystery man?

Context: I matched with ‘Mystery Tim’ on Coffee Meets Bagel way back in February, and – through a series of  odd events – we ended up meeting at Lauriol Plaza in May. Yes, that is several months later. Happens. Read on to learn how Mystery Tim and I reunited, and how the story ends. Continue reading

J: Why are you wasted?

Context: I matched with ‘Dorko’ on Bumble, and before I could even navigate to his profile to message him (just his name with an exclamation mark, of course; low effort, high reward), he used his 24-hour extend on me. Thanks, sir? We then agreed to meet at Bar Charley at 7 PM on a Wednesday. Not the best time to get wasted – but that’s never stopped J! Continue reading

J: The Loyal Army Man

Context: I’m spending the weekend in Charlottesville, VA for the Foxfield Races (aka an excuse to get hammered in a field), and it wouldn’t be a real Foxfield if I didn’t find a guy to hook up with!* I met a hot AF army guy while I was dancing on a table at the Biltmore who fit the bill perfectly, and was excited to see where the night took us. Continue reading

J: Poker Face

Context: I matched with ‘Ohio’ on Tinder waaaay back in November, and met up with him for a few drinks at Pearl Dive on a Monday night. A few nights later, my blackout self decided to play my favorite drinking game – self sabotage. He texted me asking if I would like to go on a second date, and I said yes. I said we should go ice skating. ICE SKATING. THE HANDHOLDING SPORT OF THE USA. I couldn’t do it. I needed to back out. The day of the date, I took action. Continue reading

J: The Boy with Fish Lips

Context: I matched with ‘Fish Lips’ on Tinder, and we chatted for a few days – until my best friend ‘A’ decided it would be a great idea to swipe every guy to the left on a particularly ridiculous Margarita Monday (classic on so many levels). I subsequently re-started my Tinder, re-matched with Fishy, and scheduled a date for a Monday evening at El Centro. Continue reading

J: Holiday on the Hill

Context: In my continuing effort to attend as many holiday parties as possible, I jumped at the chance when a Tinder gentleman invited me to attend his Congresswoman’s holiday soiree at Sette Osteria on a Thursday night. I agreed to head over to his house* in NoMa prior to the party so that we could get our story straight.

*This, children, is a great way to get murdered. Continue reading

J: The Perfect PhD

Context: I matched with ‘Engineer’ on Tinder, a California hunk with a perfect smile, and he opened by asking me about the blog that I have linked to my Tinder bio. I was like, ‘OMG SOMEONE CARES ABOUT MY INTERESTS,’ and proposed drinks right away. We met at Churchkey on a Saturday afternoon. Continue reading

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