Context: First, I must make it clear that this gentleman’s pseudonym is Michelin Man NOT because he looks like a certain pillowy mascot, but rather because he took me to a Michelin Star restaurant (Tail Up Goat in Adams Morgan – SO GOOD). Now, I know what you’re thinking – Michelin Star restaurant? On a Tinder date? Slow your roll, dude.

However, I have actually been dating this guy for almost two months (?? who am I) now, albeit in a ‘friends with benefits’ capacity. Per his (bizarre) request, I have documented this date in typical TD satirical style. He has no idea what he’s in for. Enjoy!

I have big goals, guys. Ambitions. Dreams.

I want to be a career woman. Consult for the most reputable companies. Save the world. Open a bakery. Not be murdered by a Tinder date.

But boy, am I pushing the limits on that last one.

Take Michelin Man. We had chatted briefly on Tinder, and I thought our conversation was going well, when he ghosted on me entirely. Figuring I’d just cut my losses after a week of no communication, I was about to unmatch him – until he messaged me out of the blue.
MM – Hey, sorry, I was slammed with midterms. What do you say we get a drink? My phone number is…

Hmm. Hey, why not? I texted him, and we agreed to meet up at Surfside for a drunken taco adventure that Saturday.

This was until 3 AM on Friday night rolled around. I was drunk off my ass at Hawthorne, fuckboy texting Player, when Michelin texted me.
MM – What are you doing? Wanna get tacos now?
J – How about I just come over?

^^^^^^^!!!!!!!! BAD J! THIS IS NOT HOW YOU AVOID MURDER!

So, the good news is that he’s not a serial killer, and is a super awesome guy who I’m incredibly comfortable around. Which clearly meant he was terrifying to me, because I don’t like when I have feelings. Luckily, blackout J was there to sabotage me when I needed her most.

Michelin and I hung out several times throughout the next week, and on Sunday afternoon I invited him to brunch at Piola with some of my friends. He declined as he had a lot of homework to do (ugh I fucking hate grad students), so I did what I do best – blacked out off sangria and mimosas and invited myself over. I have literally no recollection of what happened, so when Michelin started making references to that day, I just played along.
MM – Yeah, it’s just like in that TV show we were watching on Sunday!
J – Yep yeah uh huh television ooh shiny.
MM – And, when we were talking about my ex girlfriend?
J – Oh yes yes of course ex girlfriend bad girl.
MM – Oh, and remember what you said about frat guys?

Ugh. I had to put an end to this madness. I needed to come clean.

J – Um, so I actually don’t remember anything from Sunday because I was blackout the whole time.
MM – ……..you…. you what???
J – Lol yep I remember literally nothing.
MM – So, you don’t remember us defining our relationship?
J – *INTERNAL PANIC BECAUSE I HATE FEELINGS* Ha ha ha hahahaha ha ha did we?
MM – Yeah, I told you that I had just gotten out of a 3-year relationship and wasn’t ready for a girlfriend, and you laughed at me and said you didn’t want a boyfriend, you just wanted someone to fuck 3-4 times a week and a date to your holiday party.
J – Lol yep sounds like something I would say! Cool I’m down with that.

Disaster avoided.

So, since then, I’ve been going on a lot of dates (that I do need to write about – sorry, guys!) but also enjoying my time* with Michelin. I was thus very excited when he made a dinner reservation for Tail Up Goat. BUT. This is not supposed to be a nice date post. This is the Tinder District version.

*Except for a brief moment of panic when my friend K convinced me that Michelin was a heroin addict and was also gay. It turns out he’s just fairly metrosexual and had a nasty case of scurvy (still a thing?). We good, fam.

Michelin made our reservation for 9:15 PM, which is great if you’re fucking nocturnal, but I am not. Ugh, whatever, I could just have a Chipotle burrito as a pre-dinner snack. I texted him around 5 to see what time I should come over. Michelin said 7:30. I decided this was the perfect amount of time for a nap.

And nap, I did. I woke up at 7:30 (perfect for #wastehistime2016), and called an Uber to Michelin’s apartment… only to find that he hadn’t even started getting ready yet. SMH, MICHELIN. S. M. H. I took his keys so I could let myself into his apartment while he stepped outside to smoke.

I was just through the door of his apartment when he texted me.
MM – I fucked up
MM – I gave you my keys and now I can’t get back into the building
MM – Can you please come let me in

Who the fuck is this guy? I ignored his texts for a few minutes while I talked to his roommate, and then headed downstairs to let him inside. He had a dinner to buy me, I guess I should be nice. While he started to get ready, I demanded he feed me wine.
MM – *handing me a wine glass* Guess how much this glass cost?
J – Idk, like $10?
MM – Higher.
J – $15? I don’t know, I’ve never paid more than $5 for a wine glass.
MM – No, higher.

Dude made me keep playing “The Price is Right” until I got up to $135. Wtf man. That is money that could be spent on tequila. And like, GOOD tequila, not the rail shit that I drink.
MM – And I watched it as it was made by the Italian Glassblowers, you know, when I was in Italy… so please don’t take it out into the kitchen I don’t like it to be around hard surfaces.
J – Put your shirt on and don’t tell me what to do.

Someone’s gotta keep him grounded.

We eventually called our Uber, and Michelin surprises me with an Uber Black. Well done, babe! We get to the restaurant and everything is fine… until we get to the fish course.

Problem #1: Neither of us like fish.
Problem #2: Michelin wants us both to eat the fish.
Problem #3: If I eat the fish, I will probably vomit on the table.

He made me eat the fish. I’m still figuring out an appropriate punishment. Feeding him to the piranha seems appropriate, but they might be hard to locate in DC. HMU with any suggestions.

We wrapped up dinner, mostly because Michelin hates being the last person in a restaurant and we were shutting the place down, and he paid like a good little fuckboy. Thanks boo 🙂 We headed back to my place for some heated laser gun fighting (best $3.99 I’ve ever spent at CVS), I let him take over my Tinder for a while, and then he headed home. So, as much as I’d like to savage him in true TD fashion, I think I’ll keep him around.

But let’s be real – mostly because he’s not like most of the frat stars I date who just hump me in missionary for 4 minutes and then fall asleep on top of me.

XOXO,
J