The lovely world of Tinder - Part II

Hello! Good evening.  I forewarned you on the last post that I'll be going on a little bit of a rant, so I really feel like it deserved it's own blog.

5.  So I told you that I met one guy on Tinder.  This guy, I'll call him Chris, seemed like boyfriend potential, can't lie about that one.  We would talk a decent amount; he was a big family guy, had some fancy pants job in finance in NYC, played hockey, really made himself sound like a winner before even meeting him.  The only con about Chris, was that he just got out of a relationship only four weeks ago, he did the breaking and so he said he was fine.  I was away on vacation for a little while, so I had some time to talk to him before meeting up with him.  So, as soon as I got back, I made plans to see what Chris was all about.  We met at a sports bar in Madison, close to where I work.  I get there and I didn't see him anywhere in sight; I wore neon so he could easily spot me, being the lady that I am.  I start to text him and some 6'2 goon with his fathers blue oxford shirt and double pleat trousers came walking towards me; what the hell, this was him.  Why would he wear his fathers shirt to a sports bar?  If these were seriously his clothes that he wore to work, why didn't he change?  He had plenty of time since he got off the train.  (Side note- guys, having a good tailor is key to looking good.  Fit is seriously insanely important, it can make cheap garments look good. I'll explain in another blog...)  So, anyways, he comes over and gives me a big hug with some dark liquor that seems to be on the rocks. (Please don't spill on this dress, it's dry clean and brand new.)  So, we find a table and sit down, and the fun begins...

I really just cringe whenever I replay this date in my mind.  I was there for two hours and fifteen minutes; I had a beer and a half and he had five whiskey on the rocks.  Five.  Was he nervous?  Was he an alcoholic?  Was he trying to impress me of his drinking skills?  There could be a million reasons why he did this, but whatever reason it was, it really didn't impress me at all.  I say this because first dates are an impression on ones character, and what kind of impression was he trying to give me? I still can't figure it out, I really would love to get into his head.

Before I continue with this disaster date, I really had to speak to a couple of people to see if I was being a Puritan about this one.  I simply posted a Facebook status asking others about how they thought would be an acceptable amount to drink on first date; I got a myriad of answers.  These consisted of don't drink at all to let's get fucked up and find out what each other are really like because you can really find that out quickly after a couple of drinks.  Where's a happy medium?  I'm still a little unsure about how many drinks are acceptable, but what I do know after all of this, is that being shit hammered isn't exactly being a lady on the first date.

The vast majority of Chris and I's conversation was miserable.  For the rest of my description of him, I'm just going to list short and sweet facts basically in the order of how the date went within the two hour and fifteen minute horror story date.  I've really tried to block this all out of my mind, so this is the best I can do:

His name is Chris.
He's 26 and lives at home.
He asks for a second drink.
He was just in a relationship.
He thinks I'm so sexy.
He works in NYC.
He was a fuck up in college- he went to Univ. Vermont, County College, then F. Dickenson Univ.
He did a LOT of drugs in college.
He went into a really dark place in college.
He asks for another drink.
He had sex with "a lot" of girls in high school.
He said that guys used to want to fight him in the locker room in high school.
He thinks I'm really sexy.
He got with so many girls in high school.
He enjoys drinking.
He asks for another drink.
He thinks I'm smoking hot.
He thinks he's too smart for his job.
He hates his job.
He thinks I'm sexy.
He asks for another drink.
He met one other girl on Tinder- she was DTF. (down to fuck)
They took shots on their first date.
He has a minimum bar of standards before he sleeps with a girl. (Never found out what those were, maybe she just needed to be wearing shoes.)
He thinks I'm smoking hot.
He says he never slept with her.
He asks me one question about myself.
He compliments me in my dress.
He tells me to never cut my hair, ever for the sake of all men out there.
He asks for another drink.
He says he loves metal music.
He says he loves getting into mosh pits.
He makes fun of the fact that I like John Mayer.
He says he's going to take the guitar out of the live bands hand and just play metal for everyone since the current music sucks.
He's so good at playing guitar.
He asks me if I'd ever have a three sum.  (Just in case you're wondering I told him no way WITHOUT slapping him right there in the middle of the bar.)
He says I don't look like the girl that would ever have a three sum.
He tells me if we were ever to have one, that he would want to see me enjoying it.
He says how hot I am.
He asks me a third question. (question two was the three sum.)
I tell him he has to go home because it's late.
He says he will "hate me forever" because I kept him out so late.
He makes fun of me for not finishing my beer.

So, the end of the date comes around and he offers to walk to me my car and I tell him no, but he does so anyways.  He tries to put his hand around my waist the entire time to my car, and I awkwardly keep moving away so he keeps missing.  When I get to my car, that awkward time at the end of the evening, he goes in for a kiss.  Thank god I was a pro basketball player back in my day because my pump fake came in REAL handy right there to get out out that one.  So, I got in my car and drove towards home and he stumbled back to his car with a case of crazy drunk eyes.

So, as soon as I get in my car, I see a text from another guy from Tinder telling me to come into Morristown because he's playing at a bar.  I had such a bad date, that I said fuck it and decided to go...

6. Stephen

Stephen was one of the nice guys, seemed very down to Earth.  I just got that good vibe from him without talking to him too too much.  So, I got to Morristown and I had a little moment where I freaked out.  What the fuck am I doing here?  I'm alone and showing up to some guy I don't even knows concert.  What if I hate him?  What if he hates me?  I don't even know how tall he is.  (I'm 5'9 - I really can't do shorter, comfort thing.)  What if he's a crazy guy?  I should have talked to him more since my gut feeling was already off for the night.  So, I decided to run to the ATM before I went into the bar; if I went to the ATM I would be able to pass the bar to see if people were actually in it, without going in before and embarrassing myself.  So, I pass by, and some guy is indeed singing in a one man band there just as he told me.  I go back to my car, just to take a deep breath because I really felt like I was doing something way too crazy for who I normally am and this happens:

In between the first two messages, I walked into the bar, and it was empty other than him and six other girls.  Way to make a girl feel special, buddy.

...and then I really wasn't having it and let a little bitchy side out of me.

I guess all I really need to say about Stephen is that if you're going to be a player, get your game on straight, bro.  As my good old friend from Jamaica (just think of the phrase with the accent) with a wife and girlfriend with two different phones says to me "play on playa..."

xox C