Dude #16 & Dude #17

(yep, a 2 in 1 entry)

Full disclosure: I’ve recently realized that not all dates make for an interesting story to tell. So I’m combining here because Dude #16 is one of those. We had been talking for a while. We had a date set just after Christmas but he had to postpone because he wasn’t feeling well. When we did meet, we got a cup of coffee, walked the open-air mall a little bit, sat in my car when we got too cold to be outside, and had a conversation. It was a perfectly lovely conversation. We’ve had a 2nd date. We get along well, have good chemistry and will continue to see each other occasionally, when schedules allow. See what I mean? A good date, just not an interesting read.

My date with Dude #17 happened just last night. It’s actually been a while since I have done any writing for this blog, so I specifically sat down today to write out the last two entries so I could get to this one.

It starts off in the usual way; we had been talking off and on for a couple weeks. I was out running errands on a Friday afternoon when he asked if I had plans for the evening. I said I did not and he asked if I wanted to meet for a drink. I said sure, I’d be up for that. He asked what I like to drink and I said wine or bourbon, but I’m not a big drinker and typically only have one drink when I’m out.

Once again, I suggested we meet somewhere between us, as he lives about an hour away (incidentally, it seems like 99% of people on these apps live at least an hour away from me). He insisted upon driving out to my area. Okay, I’m fine with that.

He asked if 8:30 was okay. In retrospect, I should have asked if we could do it earlier. I had been up since 7:00 in the morning and I could have predicted that I’d be tired by then. But he was the one driving out here, so I thought it was reasonable to let him choose the time.

He also picked a place. Local to me, yes, and somewhere I had never been before. I was curious about social-distancing and other covid precautions but couldn’t find any information. He agreed that if we got there and it was crowded, we would go somewhere else. Okay cool.

So he texts me when he’s on his way, with an ETA of 8:45. Okay, that’s fine. It’s recently snowed, it’s windy and roads will be drifty in places, it might be slow-going. Driving carefully is a good idea.

I arrived at 8:50 and texted “I’m here. It looks crowded”. He responded (I hope using hands-free because safety matters) that he’s still on his way. “Go in and grab a seat” he says, “on the bar”.

It is generally my habit to wait in my car until my date actually arrives (ever since being stood up on my first two dates) but I agree. From outside it looks like the bar is pretty full though and I don’t want to be that close to a bunch of people.

So I go in and talk to the host. I tell him that I’ve never met my date before and that he wants to sit at the bar, but I’d really rather not. I ask if he thinks I can get away with saying the bar was full. He suggests I take a look and let him know if I’d like a table.

As I get closer to the bar, I can see there’s a spot available here and there, but it’s pretty full. Honestly, I’m not a big fan of a packed bar even in the best of times, so this is not even remotely appealing to me. Meanwhile the tables are spread out nicely, so I go back to the host and ask for a table and he seats me.

I text Dude #17 that the bar was too crowded for comfort so I got a table. Shortly after 9:00 he texts that he is walking in, so I tell him exactly where to find me. A solid 10 minutes later, he’s still not there. So I text again, “did you get lost?”. A few minutes pass and I’m seriously considering tipping the server for bringing my water and leaving.

I should have done exactly that.

Eventually he replies “No”.

Me: Are you here? I’m still at the table.

(couple minutes)

Him: I am here.

Me: Are you going to join me?

(couple minutes)

Him: At the bar getting a bourbon for you.

Me: Aw, thanks. We do have a server though.

(couple minutes)

Him: Ok fine coming

So he arrives with his beer. He looks nothing like his pictures. I get up to greet him, noticing that he’s wearing bad cologne that is bound to give me a headache after a while, and we sit down.

The server comes over. She asks if he has a tab at the bar for the beer or if he closed out. He doesn’t seem to have any idea what she’s talking about. She clearly explains the possibilities of what might have happened at the bar, and he’s able to verify that yes, he paid for it.

I order a bourbon on the rocks. He tries to tell me what kind of bourbon I should get.

I’m officially annoyed.

He orders another beer even though he’s barely into the first one and pulls out money to pay. The server politely explains that she can just bring a check when we’re finished. Bless this girl and her patience.

As we start talking, I notice that he has terrible breath and makes an uncomfortable level of eye contact. When I was young, I used to joke about the fact that there’s a fine line between eye contact and the piercing stare of a psychopath. He was on the scary side of that line for sure.

So my guard is up but I’m trying to make pleasant conversation. When I ask him a question about himself, he mostly just answers it and then stops talking.

After I asked him about his work, he asked me what I do. I explained that I’m a Coach and what I do in my work with my private clients as well as for the school I work for. His response was essentially that I couldn’t possibly be qualified to do that.

Now I’m even more annoyed.

Searching for a topic change, I comment that my bourbon is really good and I’m happy with my choice but will still only be having one. He’s now on his 3rd beer.

I’m not having fun. I’m increasingly uncomfortable. I’m not getting good vibes, and my intuition is telling me to formulate an exit strategy.

I excuse myself to the restroom. I still don’t want to just leave, and it would be weird to take my coat along to the bathroom, so I just take my purse and my phone. Once safe inside the ladies’ room I look to see who of my friends is online according to Facebook messenger. I am lucky to have a long list of friends who I’m confident would have my back. I pick someone who lives a time zone earlier than me and doesn’t have little kids, so even if she’s not actually online at that moment, I’m unlikely to wake her or anyone else in her house.

And for the first time in my life, I ask this favor: “Can you please call me in like 20 minutes? I’m on a date that I’d like to get out of sooner rather than later. I was thinking I could tell him a friend slid off the road and needs me to go sit with her kids ’til she can get home.”

The response comes almost immediately. “Sure. 20 minute clock is ticking.”

So I compose myself a bit and go back out. When I arrive, there’s a 2nd bourbon on the table, even though I had about 1/3 left of my first one. Remember, I had specifically told him that I would only be having one.

He said that the server had just brought it without asking.

I don’t buy that for a second.

The only reason I drank anything more was that I knew I’d be leaving in a little over 20 minutes. Worst case scenario, if I’m roofied, I’ll be safe at home when it hits. It’s less than a 10-minute drive back to my house. Yes, women think about these things.

Plus, you know, its good bourbon. And more importantly, I’m trying to present as if I intend to stay for a while, not that I know my phone’s going to ring. So as I continue to attempt to carry on a conversation, which is at this point very one-sided, I continue to sip as if all is normal.

When my phone rings, I say “oh I need to take this, excuse me a minute” and walk away from the table to talk briefly with my friend.

When I hang up, I tell him my story and apologize, saying I really have to go. She would do the same for me in a heartbeat. He tries to convince me to stay and finish my drink, but I point out that her kids are old enough to be home alone, but not comfortable with it once it gets late, and it’s late. Plus if I finish that drink, I won’t be okay to drive.

Him: Well then come back after. It’ll be what like five, ten minutes?

Me: Um, no. It’ll take me a while to get there and then by the time she gets home… plus it’s already late. I’m sorry but I really have to go.

He stood up and hugged me goodbye and that was incredibly uncomfortable too.

I left, called my friend (hands free) and left a thank you message along the way, and was home safe a few minutes later. 0.01% of me feels bad for bailing on him after he drove all the way out here, but 100% of me is certain I did the right thing.

My personal safety comes first and I will always trust my gut instinct. I recommend anyone reading this do the same.

Well over an hour after I got home, he messaged me (back in the app, not texting — not sure what that’s all about, but whatever) that he was home. I thanked him for letting me know he was safe, said I was staying “here” for the night and going to sleep. At least that was not a lie.

This morning I had another message asking “Staying where?”. Was he not even paying attention? Anyway, I have not replied to that one. If I hear from him again, I will thank him for coming all the way out here to meet, let him know that I didn’t feel the chemistry I was looking for, and wish him well.

I cannot stress enough how grateful I am to have remarkable friends who always have my back, even from 100s of miles away. Hell, I have friends on the other side of the world who would have made that phone call if I had asked them too. Hopefully all of my friends know I would do the same for them.

I am indeed a very lucky woman.