Date Stories, J

J: I like your beard

Context: Due to the fact that I only write about my bad Tinder dates, I’ve received several comments regarding the sad, pathetic state of my dating life. One particularly charming gentleman even went so far as to call me “a narcissistic egotist trying to justify my lack of ability to create genuine human connection through prose.” I called him “an abuser of the sanctity of the English thesaurus.” I can make human connection, damn it! I’m awesome! So, I’ve decided to write about the occasional good date, starting with “Statistics,” who I met on a Wednesday night at Courthaus Social. date1

The great philosopher Ke$ha once said “I like your beard.” Now, Ke$ha and I see eye-to-eye on the majority of matters:

  • Alcohol. Brushing your teeth with Jack Daniels is a great way to start your day-drinking off on the right foot. Hey, call me a lush, but pour me a drink first.
  • Glitter. Men are like raccoons and moths – attracted to shiny things. If I am shiny, men are attracted to me. SCIENCE.
  • Alcohol. Wait, did I say this already? Sorry, I’m like four schnapps cocoas deep. Happy winter!


However, Ke$ha, I think beards look kinda gross on most men. Take M, a boy I dated in high school. He used to be such a stunner – like a young Leo DiCaprio, complete with the same crystal blue eyes AND number of Oscars (too soon?), except for my boy was a drug dealer and also low key an asshole. My type!

Anyway, this bro turned out to be a total deadbeat, dropped out of community college, etc. WHAT A WINNER, J!!!! However, I blacked out playing stack cup at my friend B’s parents’ house this May, and decided it would be a GREAT IDEA to text M and ask him if he wanted to go bowling when I was home for summer vacation. Terrible idea, but did you know that alcohol has negative side effects??? It impaired my judgment.

So I meet up with this deadbeat the next week against my better judgment, and he has a GIANT. FUCKING. BEARD. Not cute, deadbeat. Like, he is a MOUNTAIN MAN. It looks like there are pubes growing out of his face. I’m pretty sure I saw a family of birds in there. Have I mentioned that his beard was gross?

Needless to say, the date was terrible, mostly because he kept touching my butt and calling me adorable.* But also because his beard was fucking gross. To end this tangent that has absolutely nothing to do with my Tinder date, I HATE BEARDS.

*As we have discussed many, many times before, I’m five. foot. ten. I am NOT adorable. Unless you are six-four-plus, in which case, call me whateeeever you want, boo.


…Except, statistics had a beard. And he was HOT AS SHIT. When is the last time you met a sexy, rugged, statistician/computer engineer? I was like, sweating, and couldn’t speak, and altogether super composed. TG I was wearing a low-cut shirt so he could pay attention to my tits and not the fact that I was salivating. I’m a really good person to date, guys, I swear.

We ordered beers – a pint for me, a LITER for him. Side note – I’ve now been on three dates at Courthaus Social, and every SINGLE TIME the guy orders this gigantic mug of beer. Is this a manliness thing? If you don’t need to use two hands to hoist your beverage and pee three times during the date do your balls shrivel? Do you aspire to the dad bod? You do? K thanks for letting me know!


Anyway, we’re having a great conversation (EXCITING STUFF, right?! A great conversation! How novel! This is why I don’t write about good dates!) when a booming voice comes blaring through the speakers. “IT’S TIMEEEEE FOR TRIVIAAAA!” exclaims a bearded (ew) hipster man wearing an ironic message tee (ew-er). Statistics looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and we communicated telepathically that we were in. Ugh, so close already. Must be true love.**

**This is a healthy dose of what we single ladies like to call ‘getting ahead of one’s self’

We launch into the most crucial part of trivia – choosing a team name. I’m not proud about this, but my go-t0 trivia team name is “Sweatpants Boner” so I suggested this right off the bat. Statistics cocked his head and looked at me like I had just sprouted a third armpit, so I quickly redirected the conversation to how much I love beer and not talking about boners. We finally settled on the very creative team name, “Team Name.” Hey, he’s an engineer. I hear comedic creativity isn’t exactly their strong point.


We did really, really poorly at trivia. But really well on falling in love and having meaningful, balanced conversation. When we parted ways, I was over the moon, sending L and M various kiss face emojis, OMGIJUSTHADTHEBESTDATEEVER texts, and pictures of him that I swiped from his Tinder profile. Yes, boys, this is what girls do. You’re welcome for this insight into the feminine mind.

So there you have it! I go on good dates, beards are ok sometimes, and I dated an asshole drug dealer in high school and that explains a lot about my negative outlook on love. Happy Saturday!


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