With wedding season in full swing and being the token single girl at every event, it’s hard not to think about dating. Hearing all the stories about how each couple met, I started thinking about the story of how I will meet my future husband. Nothing came to mind except the insane story of how I met my first date.
This story is legen-wait for it-dary! And it’s a good representation of my dating experiences thus far. I may have a cute story when I get married of how I met my husband but my kids will probably know this story just as well.
I started dating on the older side having been too shy and awkward in high school to flirt with a guy let alone go on a date. Being the “cool girl friend” was more my thing. “She’s like a dude” was something I actually took as a compliment and was the only straw I could grab at. So when I finally had my first date I was really nervous.
First, let’s start with how I came to meet this Prince Charming. I was at dinner with a friend when I started to feel a little under the weather. We were finishing up when she got a call from her cousin who was at a bar right near her apartment. So we finished dinner and headed to the bar. I started to sweat and heard my stomach making weird noises as we got out of the cab. I decided to go up to her apartment while she met up with her cousin, Joe, and I’d catch up with them when I felt a little better.
I was so sick in the bathroom when I heard the door open. My friend had come back with Joe and a friend. Perfect. Her bathroom was directly next to her living room and you could hear everything. I was trying to get myself together but was still feeling horrible. Fifteen minutes passed then 25 minutes. I felt like I had to wait it out until they left. It was embarrassing at that point to just walk out of the bathroom after a half hour and be like, “Oh, there you guys are. I’ve been looking everywhere!”. It’s not like it was my apartment either where I could pretend I was in my room. All of a sudden my friend tried to open the bathroom door and I slammed it shut. She said, “Sorry Bev, I forgot you were here”. Then you hear men’s voices saying, “Who’s Bev?” Those bastards blew up my spot. I washed up, threw some water on my face, put the fan on. Nothing helped. I walked out so awkwardly trying my best to ignore how terrible I felt and forced a smile. Thankfully the guys were drunk and didn’t notice or care at the moment.
I was cornered on the small couch by her cousin’s friend who was talking to me an inch from my face. As he rambled on about something (I could not follow his story), I kept imagining how I must have looked- sweaty with a really uncomfortable look on my face. The guy was decent looking and nice enough but seemed like he had a screw or two loose. He reminded me of Cliff O’Malley (Lochlyn Munro) from “Dead Man On Campus”. I thought he was going to chant, “My name is Cliff. Brother of Joe. Got me some crack. Want me some hoes”. He didn’t but he did open a beer and then flick the cap directly into my friend’s eye. She was bleeding from it and he just laughed at first. Then he felt really bad and tried to help by getting her a cold compress for her eye. Instead he slammed the tray of ice cubes into her face and got ice all over the floor. On top of that my situation was not improving so I figured this was a good time to sneak out. I was trying to make my way out as discretely as possible but he popped out of nowhere as I got toward the door. He would not let me say goodbye and despite my pleading, insisted on escorting me to a cab.
Next thing I knew he was standing next to me in the elevator. I was desperately trying to act casual but I was so scared I was going to fart or vomit on him. The intense awkward silence didn’t help. As we approached the lobby he asked for my number. I felt put on the spot so I gave it to him. It was raining out so he decided to back out of the grand gesture and headed back upstairs. He opted for the “shout down the hall” goodbye because he couldn’t wait the extra minute for the elevator to come back down. I was too sick and delirious to care about how weird the past two hours had been and found myself a cab. I did not think in a million years he would contact me after that.
I was half right. He didn’t contact me afterwards until about 3 weeks later. He texted me to see if I wanted to get dinner that weekend. I was really weary about going on a date with this guy. I wasn’t sure if my instincts were right in that he was a chromosome short or I was just nervous to go on a date. His behavior was so inconsistent and I was so out of it the night I had met him that I wasn’t sure if my perception of him had been off. So I agreed to meet him for coffee and felt that was a safe first date.
The date. I arrived a few minutes late and when I finally got to the correct Starbucks, after multiple attempts, I found out that I was a third wheel on my own date. At the table was my date and a familiar face, my friend’s cousin, Joe. My date smiled and waved but didn’t get up to say hi. Joe and I had the most awkward hello. We both went to give a kiss on the cheek and had the embarrassing back and forth before almost kissing on the lips. I sat down and there was silence. I was blushing from embarrassment and couldn’t really pay attention to the conversation or lack thereof. I can talk to a wall but this was painful. Joe was trying his best to get my date involved in the conversation but you could see how uncomfortable he was being there. Who takes a friend on a date? I decided to go get coffee. All my date said was, “Cool.” He didn’t want anything and didn’t offer to get me something, go with me, or God forbid pay. So I got up and paid for my coffee. I got back to the table and sat down. The guys were talking but that faded quickly into another batch of silence. My date grumbled something about a bar. I had just gotten my coffee and wanted to finish it. Joe tried to escape but my date protested and screamed, “No!” and grabbed at his jacket. He really knows how to make a girl feel special. So Joe sat back down and we started talking again. About three seconds later my date interrupts us by pounding on the table and says, “We need to get to a bar now.” He said it around 10 times in a row until we agreed to find one.
We get to the bar and he immediately got himself a drink. Again, he didn’t offer to get me anything. I ordered a soda and he got annoyed that I wasn’t drinking. I didn’t want to pay or commit to the time it would take to have a drink so I opted for something quick and easy. It was a different location but same situation. Joe and I were attempting small talk again while my date downed drinks. He slammed the glass on the bar and goes, “What is the best thing about twenty eight year old girls?” I said, “What?” He said, “There are twenty of them.” The music had faded out towards the end of the joke so it was really quiet in the bar. People were staring and giving us dirty looks. He didn’t laugh or make eye contact, he just went back to being silent. Joe looked so embarrassed and was awkwardly laughing. I took the pedophile joke as my cue to leave. I said, “It was really nice to meet you but I have to get going.” He just replied with bye. Joe had to be like, “You’re not going to walk her to the door?” He said, “No I’m good”. Then he begrudgingly got up and walked towards the door. I turned to say bye and he was in my face trying to kiss me. Seriously?? My fight or flight reaction kicked in and I tried to flee but tripped over the rug by the door, fell and cut myself. He headed straight back to the bar and left me annoyed, injured, and with a deep skepticism of dating. I may have bled out of my knee, but I popped my dating cherry and finally was no longer a virgin to the dating scene.
My first date seems pretty on par with how my dating life panned out. My story certainly set the bar for horrible dates. Hopefully that was the worst, although I have had some pretty close seconds. Who knows, maybe at one of these weddings I’ll meet the man of dreams and have a cute story to tell my children. But for now I’ll just stick with how I met my first/worst date.
Like sex, dating gets better with time even though there are some bad experiences along the way. It’s what you make of the bad dates that determines how well the next one will go. That’s why I choose to find the humor in the situation rather than focus on how traumatic it was or could have been.
Continuing to make lemons into limoncello.