Context: I literally only swiped right on “Rugby” because I saw that he went to Georgia Tech, and some of my best friends go there, and I figured I would have something to talk to him about even if he wasn’t cute. And I would get a free dinner out of it. We made plans to meet at Metro Center one Wednesday night in early July and find a restaurant from there.
Okay y’all, Metro Center is a fucking HUGE metro station. And I knew this already because it’s the station that I use when I go to the DC office for work. But I’ve never tried to meet someone there before, and also when I’m meeting a blind date I sometimes try to panic and run away, so I was like halfway down the next street when Rugby called me trying to find me and told me to stay where I was. By the way, I had no idea what this guy looked like because none of his pictures were clear (I think he was blonde?) so I just kinda leaned against the wall of some random building in DC until a guy came up to me. And he was actually REALLY cute. But his voice sounded kind of gay. I was mildly skeptical.
One of my worst qualities is indecisiveness, so when he asked me to pick a restaurant I almost ran back down to the metro. I had several problems with this situation.
- You have been in DC SO much longer than me, bro (he had been working and living there for 3 years, he was 25). I don’t fucking know what restaurants are nearby!
- YOU are paying, i don’t know what kind of price range I’m working with here. Don’t make me feel like an asshole for choosing somewhere expensive.
So, despite my better judgment, I ended up choosing a restaurant (after infinite walking around Chinatown, a really weird place to be looking for a date spot). I chose some tapas place and I don’t even know or care what it was called*, the menu was in Spanish which meant they had sangria and that was all that really mattered to me.
*I learned after I moved to Clarendon that this mythical place was actually La Tasca, which I have grown to know and love very fondly
When the waiter came over, I chose the wine. Then the waiter came back with the wine to take our order. I was really digging the sound of the chicken empanadas, but this douchenozzle decided to take it upon himself to ORDER FOR US. Really? And, even better, he ordered two seafood dishes, and two dishes that were wrapped in bacon. Guess who doesn’t like either seafood or bacon? This girl!
So there we are. A very vanilla, boring, seafood-and-bacon-loving engineer, a very annoyed and hangry lady, a bottle of wine, and four plates of disgusting tapas. All bacony and greasy and fishy and blechhh. So, I did what any girl in her right mind would do: I drank the wine. Not all of it (because our waiter had poured a glass for rugby when he brought it out). But, like, most of it. I was drunk. I tripped on my way to the bathroom. I needed to escape.
We took the metro together, but he got off a stop earlier than me, so we awkwardly hugged while sitting side by side. He asked me if he could call me. I said yes because I’m painfully nice. When he texted me I told him I got back together with my ex boyfriend. It happens.