My first date of 2014 was terrible.
We’re going to call this guy the Most Boring Man Alive .
He sent me a message on OkCupid and he was decent looking and had a job. While I used to have dreams of falling in love with someone rich and handsome, at this point, I’ll take mediocre and employed. This guy met those two criteria. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about him because he could barely hold a conversation but I agreed to a date hoping that he might be better in person.
He suggested that we meet at a place in Hollywood that claims to make the best burgers in the nation. Obviously I wasn’t going to turn that down. So I drive out to Hollywood after work on a Thursday night (which was super pleasant – nothing gets me more pumped for a date than heavy traffic, terrible drivers, and a touch of road rage) and end up sitting through 2.5 painful hours with a guy who looks nothing like the mediocre pictures in his profile (and not in a good way).
When we get there the waitress tells us it’s going to be at least an hour and a half before we get our burgers and I tell her that’s fine because I am happy to wait to taste the best burger in the nation.
Then my date starts talking and I immediately regret agreeing to wait.
He started off by telling me how he used to be a cop and this year was the first year in a long time he didn’t have to work on New Year’s Eve since he works security now. He tells me that at least he got tons of interesting stories out of it. “Tell me one!” I insist. Silence. Apparently by “tons” of stories he meant “none.”
Okay… Then I ask him to me ANY story. So he starts telling me how when he was a cop in Colorado he had to chase a baby bear. Sounds like an exciting story, right? No. Somehow this guy made a story about an adorable baby bear into a painfully long and boring story. Maybe the lack of enthusiasm was obvious on my face, so he tried to follow it up with a story about how he was involved in a high speed chase. Sounds exciting, right? Wrong again. Somehow a high speed chase story got turned into a lesson about how “not any cop can use a speed gun – there’s a course with 40 hours of training and…” shoot me now.
I begin to tune him out and start to kinda wish that the Upstate NY Lover/Hater from New Year’s Eve would call or text me when suddenly I hear the word “ex-wife.”
I’m sorry, what? How does this keep happening to me!?
I try to change the subject by asking why he moved to Colorado and back. “It’s personal,” he tells me, “I mean, unless you want me to tell you.”
“Nope. I’m fine.” I blurt out.
“Okay, I’ll tell you” he says like he’s giving into my pressure.
No, please don’t. Oh you’re already starting to talk about your ex-wife. Awesome. I got to hear all about how he dated her through college and got married. How she started ignoring him. How he would try to give her love and affection by rubbing her shoulders and telling her she was doing a great job getting her MBA.
“I like tile floors,” I interrupt.
Yep. That’s right. I was so bored with his story about his ex-wife that I decided to just randomly start talking about tile floors because I thought tile floors were more interesting than everything he was saying.
|This is my tile floor. I like it. I also like my purple couch.|
“Oh me too!” he tells me. “I have tile floors. Well, I used to. I live with my dad now. I’m not poor, but you know, since the divorce…”
And we’re back to talking about his ex-wife for another ten minutes.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
“I like dogs.” I randomly state in the middle of his fascinating story about his ex.
“Oh me too. I have a dog… well, I used to have a dog, but since the divorce…”
NO FUCKING WAY. HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY NOT GET THE HINT?!
Finally he gets off of his ex and starts talking about gun rights. Oh goody. What an amazing first date topic!
Then he says something about how he thinks only trained professionals should be able to carry guns because otherwise “all these crazy people shoot everyone.”
At this point I may have jumped down his throat about his stereotyping people with disabilities and perpetuating stigma about mental illness and violence. Blah blah blah. I basically just get in my disability rights mode and verbally bitch slap him all over the restaurant.
When I finish he’s dead silent and I’m thinking that maybe he’s processing everything I just told him, but then he comes back with, “Every police department requires officers to go through a psych exam. I’ve taken three psych exams and I’ve never failed one!”
ARE YOU KIDDING?
First, that’s how you respond to my lecture on disability rights? Second, are you bragging about passing psych exams? That’s seriously a bragging point for you?
Oh wait. It gets better.
His next topic? “What’s your stance on abortion?” Hi, you know we’re on a first (and last) date, right?
Then he tells me he’s not really “in the business of making babies” (did you really just say that?) and he’s not in the position to have a kid right now (no shit –you live with your dad). He concludes with “So I know what I’d do if I got a girl pregnant…” (who the fuck are you getting pregnant? No one is ever going to sleep with you!) “…I’d make her get an abortion.”
“Except you really don’t get a say in it,” I remind him.
“If it’s my baby I do. I don’t care what they say about women’s rights or whatever.”
Oh cool. Nothing is sexier than a man who doesn’t respect “women’s rights or whatever.”
No wait – it gets even better, I promise.
Next he tells me, “well, actually, I hope this isn’t a deal breaker for you, but I’m not sure I want kids at all.” You think that’s a deal breaker for me? You think I want to have kids with you now?
Dear Lord let this date end.
My cheeseburger finally comes and I eat it as fast as possible (ps. It’s a good burger, but not best in the nation) and I’m ready to sprint back to my car when the waitress asks “Do you want key lime pie?” Dammit woman! I want out of this date but I can’t turn down pie!
|Looks like an average cheeseburger. Tastes like a slightly better than average cheeseburger.|
After I eat the pie I’m trying to get out as fast as possible but of course he insists on walking me to my car.
As soon as we get outside he decides to light up a cigarette that smells like the potpourri that my grandma keeps on the back of her toilet. You smell like smoke and my grandma’s bathroom. Yum.
Then he sees my car. “Oh you have an Equinox!” Yes, I know. I bought it.
“Did you know you have a remote start?”
“Umm. Yeah. I’m aware. I never use it though.”
“Oh I can teach you how to use it!”
Seriously? I know how to press a button. There’s a difference between not using something and not knowing how to use something. Oh my God just go away.
Then he tells me, “I had a really good time with you. This has been one of the most intelligent conversations I’ve had in a long time.”
Umm… I barely talked. You talked about your wife the whole time. I talked about dogs and tile floors, but you’re right, this probably is the most intelligent conversation you’ve had in a while.
I respond by saying “thanks for the cheeseburger.”
“No problem. I had a really good time.”
“Thanks for the pie too.”
“You’re welcome. I had a really good time.”
Okay. I get it. You had a really good time. But I didn’t, so no matter how many times you say it to me, I won’t say it back. Go the fuck away.
“Goodnight.” I open my car door.
“Goodnight. I had a really good time!”
That’s it. I give up. I’ve run out of responses. So I just got in my car and left.
Decent looking guy online asked out. He turned out not to be decent looking (the internet lies) and was super boring. He revealed he has an ex-wife and told me her life story. His other talking points included gun rights, offensive statements about people with disabilities, bragging about passing psych exams, abortions, and not caring about women’s rights. He also smelled like my grandma’s bathroom.
1. Never agree to an hour and a half wait on a first date.
2. The internet lies about how pretty some people are.
3. My tiles floors are a more interesting subject than anyone’s ex-wife.