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.
I’m drunk on a beach. Are y’all ready for a poem??
‘Twas the second day of 2017, when all through DC, J was thirsty as hell, and wanted drinks that were free. She matched with a boy, muddled through some small talk, came up with a ploy, and went for a walk (across the street to El Centro).*
*Poor poetry skills courtesy of my Finance and IT degree #ThanksDad.
Now, guys, I went into this date with some knowledge that this boy had what we referred to in middle school as DSLs (DICK SUCKING LIPZZZZ). And it’s not like I want to lead boys on when I’m not interested in them. The thing is, I’m unemployed at the moment, and my bank account keeps calling me and leaving voicemails like “you’re out of money” and “when I said you can’t afford dinner, I didn’t mean to take tequila shots instead” and “STOP IT, HO.” Soooooo free things it is!
Leading up to this date, I was sitting on the couch of my friend KC’s apartment with him and my roommate, L, when they got a great idea.
KC – I want a margarita.
L – Should we go to El Centro, too?
KC – YES LET’S STALK J’s DATE!!
J – Why the hell not?
KC – Can we have a contest?
L – A…. tequila contest?
KC – Where every margarita is a point, and whichever couple drinks more tequila wins.
J – How much is a shot worth?
KC – 2 shots equals 1 margarita.
J & L – DEAL.
From there we zipped up our winter coats and headed over to El Centro, where I knew from an earlier text that my date was already at the bar. An excellent introduction to #Wastehistime2017 (it never ends).
Guys… this dude had FISH. ASS. LIPS. Let me peruse Google Images real fast and see if I can find a representative image.
^^^^ !!!!!! THIS IS TOO CORRECT HELP ME WHAT WAS I THINKING?!
…and, had also gained a good amount of weight since his pictures were taken… ughhhh. Whatever, I had a tequila contest to win. We immediately ordered a round of margaritas, and I settled into a seat where I had a good view of my friends, and where my date could not see them very obviously taking pictures and videos of me.
We settled into a conversation that revolved mostly around alcohol (not the best topic, but we’re millennials so what can you expect?), and were doing pretty well until he asked me which bars I frequent.
J – Well, I usually go out on U Street or 14th, but I hate the Brixton.
FL – Why? I love the Brixton!
J – I’ve just never had a good time there. It’s like a fuckboy bar.
FL – *gesturing up and down his torso* Well, look at me!
WHAT IS THS STRANGE EPIDEMIC WHERE BOYS ARE SELF-REFERRING AS FUCKBOYS?! IT IS NOT A GOOD THING!!! THIS IS NOT SOMETHING TO ASPIRE TO! I hate everyone.
I should have responded by ordering shots (which KC and L had done; I was losing this tequila contest) but I instead responded by giggling politely and changing the subject to literally anything else.
J – Do you like cats? Cheese? Trees? Bats?
FL – Are you just listing nouns?
J – I DO NOT LIKE THEM, SAM I AM. I DO NOT LIKE GREEN EGGS AND HAM!
FL – You’re pretty
J – AGHHHHHH
There was a shuffle across the bar as KC and L grabbed their check. I was being abandoned. I needed to go. I demanded the check, and Fishy Poo asked me what I was doing afterwards.
J – MOVING TO JAPAN
…jk. I said something more accurate, like that I was going to cook dinner across the street with some friends, then gave him a brief hug and kept those lips FAR away from my face. I darted across the street into the safety of KC’s apartment and watched the 97 snapchats they had sent of me.
KC – I sent this one to your ex!
L – I like this one because you look like you’re going to die!
KC – This one really accentuates his lips!
Whatever. I was free… or so I thought.
We settled in to watch sports (SPORTS!) and had watched no more than one play when I got a Facebook notification. What could it be but a friend request from Fish Lips? With accompanying text to ask me when I was free to hang out again?
Unless you’ve never read this blog before, you won’t be surprised to learn that I hard ghosted. I mean, it’s probably easier that way than actually moving to Japan, right?