Context: I had been on one date with ‘Syracuse’ before, on which I was smitten by his soulful eyes and ability to buy me food and drinks. Further attempts to schedule a second date had proved difficult, but we finally made time to meet up on a Thursday night at Carpool in Ballston.
Hello hello! I apologize for being a delinquent blogger as of late – apparently, there’s this thing called ‘work’? That I have to do? And it’s the only way I get paid? I know, it’s weird. But I’m back with a horrible date story! Woo!
My thing with second dates is I expect them to be at least somewhat good. The guy must first pass “J’s Field Test for Agreeing to See You Again,” which consists of the following (I’ll leave my preferred answers to your interpretation):
- Did you give off the vibe that you would murder me?
- Did you pay for my meal without having the audacity to tell me what I can and cannot order?
- Did you speak at a volume that is audible to humans?
- Did you, at any point, make reference to a) our married future, b) our children, or c) religions that involve more than one wife?*
- Did you text me first after our date within a reasonable window of time?
- AND, most importantly – do I think we can have ANOTHER multiple-hour conversation now that we have already covered the basics?
*I never learned to share. I scorn the teachings of my preschool days.
Now, Syracuse passed this test with flying colors – but, while he was interesting, he wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the world. However, I figured I was on the market for a fun date, not like, new candidates for Pope. So I set that part of his personality to the side and agreed to meet him for drinks at 7:30 PM on a Thursday about a month after we had first met.
…except, as a follower of the church of #wastehistime2016, I showed up 10 minutes late. AND MY DATE STILL WASN’T THERE?! You can’t out-play the player, homie. I texted him that I was there (making no indication of my tardiness, because I want him to think that I’m a perfect, polite damsel that he should shower with gifts) and he responded that he was three minutes away. Coincidentally, this is exactly how long it would take for me to swipe through my Hinge matches! Perfect.
Five minutes pass. No sign of Syracuse. Time to consult the angel and devil on my shoulders, aka my best friends A and BP.
J – My date is 15 minutes late, but I was 10 minutes late – what do I do??
BP – *Playing the role of angel* Nothing.
Unfortunately my devil, A, was hungover and napping, so I was stuck doing the nice thing. MISTAKE NUMBER ONE.
I finally noticed Syracuse’s truck roll up to the bar, so I headed over to greet him. He was still cute! We were off to a good start. We headed in to grab drinks – a Corona Light for me, and a Miller Light Tallboy (lol ARE WE STILL IN COLLEGE) for him. We grabbed a table outside since it was a nice day and started talking.
Topics that we covered:
– His fraternity
– His fraternity’s drinking traditions
– His political preferences
– His thoughts on each of the presidential candidates (he works in Congress so this was VERY. DRAWN. OUT. Also, Trump supporter. The reddest of flags)
– His favorite sports teams
– His LEAST favorite sports teams (including my Alma Mater’s… yikes)
You may have happened to notice that each of those conversation topics started with ‘His.’ Yep, we only talked about him for the ENTIRE DATE! AWESOME! We both finished our first beers, and when he asked me if I wanted a second, I said no. The conversation was abysmal, it was starting to rain, and I would really rather be at the gym or dentist or a Nickelback (foreshadowing) concert.
S – Oh, well… I’m gonna get another beer.
J – …fine, if you’re getting one, I’ll get one too.
He returned shortly thereafter with both of our beers and… a food menu?! Did I at any point give off the impression that I wanted to be there long enough to eat??
S – I ordered a sandwich, so I thought I’d bring you a menu in case you want to eat too.
J – I don’t believe in food, only tequila.
S – Oh. Okay. Well I need to wait for my sandwich.
The rain started coming down harder, so we moved to a table inside. Carpool is a bar with a lot of games, so I suggested that we grab some darts or something (I’m a strong believer in the therapeutic properties of #ThrowShitThursday), but he said he was too hungry to play games. Bro, there are Buddhists in Nepal who DON’T EAT ANYTHING EVER and still manage to herd yaks and climb mountains and shit, and YOU’RE TOO HUNGRY TO PLAY DARTS?! Bye.
While we waited, Nickelback’s acclaimed song “Rock Star” came on over the speakers. AS IF THE NIGHT COULD GET WORSE.
S – What do you think of this song?
J – …it’s Nickelback. Not a fan.
S – Really?!? I LOVE this song!!!!
Just as I was about to clock him in the jaw, his sandwich came, and I retreated into my daydreams about one day marrying both Chris AND Liam Hemsworth. Literally ANYTHING was better than watching this guy shove fistfuls of fries into his face between bursts of useless sports knowledge. FISTFULS. Apparently the 2nd date is the perfect time to “let loose” and show your neanderthal side. Well, better that I know this now than when I introduce him to my great-grandparents?!
As soon as he was done licking the crumbs off his plate, I made my move.
J – Golly gee wilickers, would you LOOK at the time?! I have to skedaddle before I miss my bedtime!
S – Are you walking home? Do you want a ride??
J – I can walk! It’s nice outside! I love walking!!
S – It’s literally pouring rain.
J – Rain makes corn, corn makes whiskEEEY, whiskey makes my baby get a little friskEEEEEY…
S – …..let me drive you home.
And so I obliged, counting down the seconds until this guy would be out of my life forever and always. We finally got out at my apartment building, and guys – I’m SO proud of myself for this – when he went in for the hug, I hit him with the HIGH FIVE. Has there ever been a more direct highway to the friend zone? I think not. I hopped out of the car and RAN back to the comfort of my apartment/loving roommates/loving bottle of wine.
I think it’s time to update that field guide to second dates. Any recommendations are appreciated! ‘Doesn’t like Nickelback,’ perhaps?!