Context: I had been talking to “Frat Star” for a millisecond on Hinge (I’m a convert) when we decided to get drinks at American Tap Room in Clarendon on a Saturday evening.
Hi friends!! I’m not dead!!! I know you missed me way too much, because you need updates on my shambly existence to make you feel better about yourself, but a combination of a work trip/actually going on GOOD dates (what?!) led to my brief hiatus. Not to worry, though, I haven’t ~found love~ (hahahahaha dying alone hahahaha), because let’s face it: my time consists entirely of trying to find balance between getting infinite free meals and seeking out the sexy hunk of man that I will watch Netflix with for the rest of my life (or like longer than a month). I want great (ok, decent) meals, stimulating conversations, a shoulder to nap on, and Calvin Klein model eye candy all at the same damn time. Is that too much to ask for?! I think not.
Also, I’m addicted to Hinge. It’s the height thing, and the quality of guys is much better, and Tinder just introduced this “super-like” feature where you can choose one person a day to be like OMG BAE I NEED YOU and the guys who super-like me always look like serial killers and I just needed to get out. So, Hinge! This is where I met “frat star” and we decided fairly quickly to get drinks once I was back from my business trip. He was 6’2, he looked like he would pay for me, I was sold.
He was also sold. On himself.
This man, in addition to looking like a fucking dad at age 23 (what will you look like at 30? 35?!), didn’t know how to SHUT UP. Over a period of an hour, he learned 1) my roommates’ names. I, on the other hand, learned:
- His favorite recipe for Everclear punch (WOO WERE YOU IN A FRAT?!)
- The nicknames of all his fraternity brothers (no seriously, a frat? SO COOL!)
- The best theme parties his frat threw (the word fraternity has now lost all meaning)
- He really, really loves to smoke weed with his frat brothers (are the walls of our booth high enough that I can excuse myself to the bathroom and just leave without him noticing?)
Please don’t text me, sir. There probably won’t be a second date. And by probably, I mean definitely. But fret not, readers, there will definitely be more Hinge.