The Non-Date – Survived by A

WHO: Someone we will call John Doe, an old friend of my ex-husband

WHAT: NOT a date. Or so I thought. I told Sarah about this non-date before I went and she said, “Yeah, that is definitely a date.” She might have been right.

WHEN: Summer 2015

WHERE: A local bar on Phinney

WHY: Because he reached out to me after I had recently separated from my husband of 14 years. I thought it was nice to hear from an old friend who was technically friends with my ex.  And apparently because I am totally clueless that most guys don’t want to just be my “friend”.

THE NON-DATE
I had recently separated from my husband of many years and had been embracing all opportunities to connect with old and new friends. This guy John had reached out to me, and I thought it was nice that a friend of my ex still wanted to be friends with me. I didn’t want to have to divide our friends like we did with our kitchen utensils when we split.

So I went. I suggested we get a beer, because…well…that’s what I do with friends. John has always been a “special” friend of ours. He is in his early 30s but has never had a real job, lives with his parents, has no driver’s license because he’s had too many DUIs, and he definitely called me from his parents’ land line because they are “assholes” and took his cell phone from him.  Painting the picture of a real winner here. Thus my stance on the fact that this is ABSOLUTELY NOT A DATE!!!  

So why would I even go have a beer with this loser?  Well this is a guy I’ve put up with for years despite all of the above because he’s a nice person and we’ve been friends for 15 years. At least that is what I kept trying to tell myself. I was just being an accepting and non-judgmental person, right?

I plan to meet with him after work on a sunny weekday. He asks me to pick him up. I agreed, not exactly surprised that he didn’t have a car or any means of getting around. We go to the bar and each order a beer. I start out by asking him if he’s seen my ex recently because they had been friends for years and I was curious to know how my ex was doing. He told me he hadn’t seen him and had no intention of ever seeing him again because he’s a “bad influence.” I know my ex is my ex for many reasons, but a bad influence on THIS guy?  Not a chance.  He makes plenty of his own poor life decisions on his own.

This was my first red flag.

The waitress brings our beers and I continue with the small talk. He then tells me that he is trying not to drink any more. Um… ok. Why would you agree to go get a beer with me if you’re trying to be sober?

I felt like a douchebag for taking an alcoholic out for beers.  But oh well.

We proceeded to drink our beers and slowly some very uncomfortable compliments start flying my way. He starts with things like “You look nice today,” and “I like your dress.” Ok, simple enough. I say “thank you” and continue with the small talk.  And then it continues.  He professes his love for me and tells me how attracted he is to me. He goes on to compliment my earrings, my purse, and other things that don’t really deserve any kind of compliment.  

It’s getting awkward.

The compliment that really put me over the top was, “Wow, you have really nice wrists.” Seriously? My wrists? It just got weird. Blatantly commenting on my tits would have been less awkward.

I should have called it a day and just left, but no, I’m not that smart. Still giving this creepy guy the benefit of the doubt. Oh, past A. I didn’t order another beer for very obvious reasons. I think we each paid for our own beers, and then he asks if I want to take a walk. I say OK and we take a short walk to the park and smoke a cigarette.  He continues to pour on the very strange and unwarranted compliments.

We sit on a bench at the park while I try to figure out how to get rid of him. I lie and say I need to meet up with a friend in Everett. He decides that’s the perfect time to make his move, and he puts his hand on my leg. I physically remove it and tell him that this is never going to happen, we are just friends and will never be anything more.

I felt like I was scolding a young child for not keeping his hands to himself on the playground.

I finally took him home. For the next several months he kept calling me. Luckily he couldn’t text me because he still had no cell phone. What a winner.

I inadvertently answered one of his calls one day thinking it was someone else, so I figured it was the right time to tell him he needed to stop contacting me. He didn’t stop, but I just continued to ignore his calls.

And he didn’t do anything too disturbing until October rolled around. As I was leaving a bar after having a girls evening out with some fellow bloggers and single lady friends, he is there, outside on the sidewalk. Perhaps a coincidence, but also perhaps a very creepily planned out stalking move. The funny part is that I had just told this story to the girls no more than 2 hours earlier.  

They all realize that this is THAT guy and they all try to pull me into the bar next door to protect me from this crazy-ass weirdo who just happened to be outside at the exact moment we were all leaving the bar. Of course instead of hiding from him like a smart person, in my typical fashion (and bravery fueled by a few drinks), I stayed outside and talked to him. Again, it was like scolding a small child. I told him that he can never contact me again. Amazingly, I haven’t heard from him since.

I guess my lesson learned is that just because I’ve known a person for 15 years doesn’t mean they aren’t going to turn into a total creep and pounce on the opportunity of hitting on a newly single woman with really nice wrists.

New Year, New Technique – Survived by Tara

So, it’s a new year. I cut 5 inches off of my hair, bought some new red lipstick, and started teaching salsa classes. Creatively I’m gonna kill 2016. Now, on the personal side of 2016, I’m tired of the time, energy, and money wasted on online dating. I’m over hoping someone swipes back at me. I’m done with the games and trying to pick out my perfect person like an order of Bacon from my butcher. (Yes I have a butcher, yes he gives me discounts because I have a Bacon tattoo, no he’s not single, and yes there are about a bajillion types of Bacon out there.)

The Semi-Successful Blind Date – Survived by Sarah

WHO: Jacob

WHAT: Blind date setup by a coworker

WHEN: Fall/winter 2013

WHERE: Grass Valley, CA

WHY: Because I was single in my hometown and had been for a few years and someone offered to set me up.

Danny – Survived by Tara

Who: Danny. There is no name changing on this one. He doesn’t deserve it.

What: Real life, and the most epic meet-cute ever.

When: Saint Patty’s Day 2011, right before the slutty summer.

Where: Inner Richmond, Ireland’s 32 to be exact.

Why: When a gaggle of good-looking boys sit at the booth behind you and start talking about Firefly and how it’s the best show ever, you can’t not turn around and join in on the conversation. Duh.

THE DATE
My co-workers and I had made shirts that said “Kiss Me I’m Tara” (although their shirts each said their own name), and we decided to take them for a spin that night. I wanted to go dancing at Buckshot, but got outvoted to get food and pitchers down the street instead. We grabbed a booth and got our drink on. Everyone was in a conversation about work things and I was zoning out, as I am aught to do when a conversation doesn’t directly apply to me and I’m tipsy. Then I heard something that totally grabbed my attention. The booth behind me was talking about the AMAZING show Firefly. I stood up in the booth, turned around, and pronounced to the booth of boys that anyone who hasn’t seen the show should be stoned. Like rocks thrown at them, not smoking weed. And yes, I did say that part too.

(Editor’s note from Sarah: that show sucks, and my dislike of it has almost ended our friendship because Tara loves it that much. If you ever meet Tara, just say Nathan Fillion a bunch of times and you will be in her good graces for life.)

The booth went silent. I realized that there were four dudes sitting there, all very cute in their own way. I went quiet because they were all cute and I had literally just YELLED at their faces about a TV show that was only on for one season. They were silent for a second, then they all screamed, “HELL YES FIREFLY!” and pulled me into their booth and poured me a beer. I was instantly drawn to a cute blondish guy to my right. He was working for KQED, had a great smile, and was nerdy funny. Across from me was a VERY hot, tall dark handsome guy who was very good looking. In my drunken thoughts I had decided that he was far too hot for me and was a little more quiet than the blonde, so I moved on. The other dudes had GF’s so there’s no need to discuss them.

We drank. We talked about sci-fi. We drank. We decided that we were all going to be best friends. We drank more. Someone put on music in the bar and we decided to dance. They took turns spinning me around and at the end of a song, they lifted me above their heads and carried me around like Lady Godiva. We decided to head to Buckshot where we drank and danced till the bar closed.

At some point I found out the cute blonde had just started seeing someone, so I had put all the dudes into the friend zone in my head. We had this epic night of fast friendship and I was so pumped to have new guy friends in my life. I was hugging my new friends goodbye with drunken promises to hang out again someday, when Danny, the beautiful tall one, asked if he could walk me home. I was totally taken aback. He had said maybe 20 words to me all night, so I was surprised. I mentioned that I lived in NOPA and it was about a 40 min walk. It was a nice night and I wanted to drunk-walk home and sober up. Sure, if he wanted to walk with me that was fine, but under no circumstances was I going to hook up with him. I made it very drunkenly clear.

Fifteen minutes in to our walk it started pouring rain. He asked if we should get a cab, and I said, “Hell no! A walk in the rain never hurt anyone!” Plus I was happy to be sobering up so I could assess him and figure him out a little. He had just gotten out of the Army, was Italian, loved MacGvyer, was living with a few of my new best friends in their basement room until he figured out what was next for him. He loved music and wine, played the guitar, and was really nice to look at.

We got to my house and we were soaking. He came inside and I found some old sweats and a big t-shirt to give him, and we hung out in my room talking until the sun came up. I learned that he was a dad. He had a kid in Italy that he saw once a year. He wanted to be a personal trainer, and when he looked at me my insides got all gooey. We passed out mid-sentence sometime around 6am on top of my sheets, me mumbling he could stay but had to sleep allllllll the way on the other side of the bed because I wasn’t going to hookup with him.

I was off work the next day, and we made breakfast when we woke up. The Princess Bride was on TV so we watched that and hung around in our pjs. We were pretty inseparable after that. We hung out weekly, making dinner, going out, wine tasting, having coffee, and binge-watching the ENTIRE series of MacGyver. I overlooked the fact that he had no job, that he was weird about talking about his family, and the whole being a dad thing, because he would call me at work just to say hi and play me a song he learned on the guitar. He was passionate, romantic, and hot. Neither of us had had the “talk,” but we were dating only each other and enjoying how easy and nice it was.

Meanwhile, I had become quite good friends with the blonde guy. The three of us grabbed drinks regularly, double-dated, and had a pretty good thing going on. It was now late summer and Danny and I had been dating for over 4 months. I was getting ready to move from the NOPA house to a new pad in the Lower Haight. Danny and I had plans to move all my stuff. He was renting a truck and planned on driving over with it on a Friday morning. I had everything packed and ready to go. I had already moved my boxes to the street so we could move things fast and get on with our day.

I called him to see his ETA. It went to voicemail. I left a message. I called him again 20 min later. Voicemail. I sent him a text message. I called again after another hour, just wanting to know if he was safe. I had a horrible fear that he and the truck where crashed in a ditch somewhere. After 2 hours, I officially started freaking out. I called the blonde guy. He hadn’t heard from Danny, but said if he did he would call and let me know.

So there I was. Alone. Stuck on the street with boxes, a couch, a bed, EVERYTHING. I mentally went through my list of people to call, and I had no one. Everyone was either working or didn’t want to help load and unload boxes. I was sitting on my stoop sobbing, totally overwhelmed,  when my phone rang. It had now been 4 hours since Danny was supposed to show up.

It wasn’t Danny. It was blonde guy.

Blonde Guy: “Hey Tara…”
Me: “DUDE. WHERE IS DANNY! Who tells a girl they are going to help them move and then DOESN’T SHOW UP??!”
Blonde Guy: “Umm, so Danny called me. And if this was anyone other than you, I wouldn’t even get involved. But you’re my friend and I want to continue to be friends, and I’m just so sorry.”
Me: “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??”
Blonde Guy: “He’s not coming.”
Me: “Yes, I have realized that. Is there any reason why he won’t call me to tell me himself?”
Blonde Guy: “Umm, not really. I think he realized that things were on the verge of getting serious with you and he decided he couldn’t deal. In fact, that is actually what happened. I thought you deserved to know because he isn’t going to call you.”
Me: “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Never once did I say anything about the future. There was NO talk about boyfriend girlfriend. I never put any pressure on him to be anything more than a guy that I liked to hang out with and have sex with. NONE.”
Blonde Guy: “I know, Tara, I’m sorry. I can’t believe he is’t going to at least call you…”
Me: “FUCK HIM. This is total bullshit. HE WAS SUPPOSED TO RENT A TRUCK AND HELP ME MOTHER FUCKING MOVE. I could care less about him wanting to dump me, but WHO FUCKING BAILS LIKE THAT?!!! WHO DOESN’T CALL OR EVEN FUCKING TEXT!!!! ALL OF MY WORLDLY POSSESSIONS ARE ON THE STREET WAITING FOR HIM AND A GOD DAMN TRUCK! I CAN’T EVEN GO PEE! SOMEONE MIGHT STEAL MY SHIT!!!!!”
Blonde Guy: “I could come over after work to help. I just thought you should know. I’m so sorry Tara.”
Me: “No, I’ll figure something out. Thank you for telling me. I know you are friends with him too. I appreciate it.”

I was so pissed I couldn’t even be heartbroken. A friend finally called me back and we moved all my stuff with her car, 8 trips and 30 feet of rope later.

Blonde guy and I stayed friends. Danny disappeared. We never talked about him. Right before Halloween, blonde guy set me up on a friend date with his sister Elizabeth, proclaiming that we were probably going to be best friends because we were so similar and fun. We had a slightly awkward coffee date and exchanged numbers. I got a text from her a few days later asking if I had Halloween plans. I wanted to party, get drunk, and have a ridiculous evening. She was totally in and said she’d be at my house in full costume in 15 minutes.

That is the best kind of post-breakup friend a girl could ask for.

Elizabeth would fill me in every once in awhile on Danny rumors, and soon I forgot he even existed.

Flash forward to the present, 4 years later. I’m catching up with Elizabeth over drinks. We’re chatting about her brother and she asked if I knew that DOUCHE Danny was dating her brother’s ex girlfriend. The very same one he had started dating seriously on Saint Patrick’s Day all those years ago. Such a weird small world we said, and we cheersed to the only good thing that MOTHER FUCKER DOUCHE ever did for me, which was bring Elizabeth and I together.

The next day I got to work and it was a beautiful day. I decided to talk a walk on my lunch break around 4th street where I work, get a cup of iced tea, and sit and people watch. As I rounded the corner I noticed an SPCA booth of kittens and puppies getting adopted. I was about to head over when I saw a tall guy on his cell phone looking at kittens.

My heart dropped to my stomach and I realized it was him. Danny. THE MOTHER FUCKING ASSHAT. I wasn’t sure what to do. It had been 4 years, but obviously I was still angry. So I decide to take the high road. If by the time I got to the booth he was still there, I told myself I would be the bigger person and be civil.

He got off of his phone, walked around the booth, and hugged a frumpy girl. I heard her squeal, “OOOOO can we get one??”  He laughed, put his arm around her, and said, “Maybe someday babe,” and they started walking TOWARDS ME. We made eye contact, and the color and smile drained from his face. I was about to say something, when he grabbed the girl, abruptly turned her around, and started SPEED WALKING AWAY FROM ME back to the animals.

I stood there, in the street, sipping my iced tea, speechless. By the time I could shake myself out of my surprise, they were gone.

What are the odds of me running into not one, but THREE guys in the last few weeks that I had dated?! I’m taking it as a sign to GET THE FUCK OUT of the bay and never look back. Sure I’ll come back to visit, but I’m done. Never again Bay Area. I can’t do it anymore. You’ve broken me.

Never Compromise on moving to a new town and starting the fuck over again. Hasta la Vista Bay Area, Seattle, here I come.

(Editor’s note from Sarah: YEY!! SHE’S MOVING TO SEATTLE!)

The Architect – Survived by Tara

Disclaimer: This is an OOOOOLLLLDDDD dating story, but I was in the Lower Haight today and ran into said ex-date. So enjoy.

Who: The Architect turned Torah-Dad, to be explained later.

What: Meet Cute! Real life!

When: About 3 years ago

Where: On the bus on my way to work.

Why: I was living in the lower Haight and usually walked to work. I was running late and decided last minute to hop on the bus to work. It was packed to the brim but a handsome guy stood up and offered me his seat.


THE DATE
We smiled, I sat down, and handsome guy stood over me. The bus lurched, he fell on top of me, and we laughed. Turns out he was an architect on his way to day two of his new job. He had a great smile and a friendly casualness that had me grinning ear to ear. We chatted for a few minutes, and he asked if I wanted to grab a drink that night after work. I was so shocked by his forwardness that I found myself giving him my number before I could think about it. My stop was next so I headed towards the front of the bus and ran right into a young woman in a wheel chair.

Me, mortified: “Oh my gosh! I am SO sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!:
Her: “Oh hunny, don’t even worry your pretty little head. I can see you were thinking about other things.” (she nods her head back towards the Architect.)
Me, blushing, turning to see if he noticed my total fail at a graceful exit: “Hahahaha, right? I’ll just exit out the back.”
Her: “GIRL it’s your lucky day. You can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to ride down the wheelchair ramp on a bus. Hop on!”
Me: “Ummm- uhhh, okay?!”

I stand behind her and the bus driver lowers us VERY slowly. I turn and look at Architect and wave. He’s laughing (at me?!) and yells, “Until tonight!”

I push my wheelchair friend onto the sidewalk.

Her: “Pretty fucking rad right? You meet a hot guy on a bus and you get a ride on the ever-so-exclusive wheelchair ramp. It’s your fucking lucky day! Go get ‘em tiger!”
Me: “Yeah! Youre right! It’s gonna be a good day!” We high five and I head to work.

He calls me an hour later. CALLS ME. I was so shocked I almost didn’t answer. We make plans to go to a bar in the lower Haight around 8pm. I find myself incredibly excited and call my sister.

Sister: “That sounds amazing, however did you forget we have plans tonight?”
Me: “What? Fuck. Right. You wanted to take me to Hog and Rocks. I forgot. Can we rain check?”
Sister: “NO. I was going to surprise you but I invited Jordan, that guy that I work with that I told you about? He’s short but super hot and you guys would totally hit it off.”

Now, in case anyone is keeping score, you will find that I have already written about Jordan (see blog post Jordan). This is in fact the same guy. 

Me: “Can’t I do both? I’ll come have a drink with you guys and then go off and meet the Architect.”
Sister: “Fine, but Jordan is amazing and he’s way better than a dude you met on Muni.”

I book it over to Hog and Rocks after work and Sister is there with an incredibly dapper and very handsome fedora-wearing guy sitting next to her. I’m taken aback. Maybe I should cancel Architect and stay? Jordan has a charming smile and I’m still waffling as he hops off his stool to hug me. He’s exactly my height with the hat on and I decide that since the Architect is taller, I’m going to stick to my original plan (never compromise). Sister introduces us and I jump right in on my meet cute date story so Jordan gets the hint that I’m ditching out. He buys a few rounds of drinks and I’m tipsy as I look at my phone to call a cab.

Jordan: “You should stay. This guy is going to turn out to be lame, I can feel it. Stay and have dinner with me.”
Me: “That is a very kind offer, but I’m not the kind of girl to bail on a guy last minute.”
Jordan: “You’re beautiful and charismatic. You deserve someone more exciting than an Architect.”
Me: “Well, my dapper friend, that is what dating is all about. Finding out. Exploring. Thanks for the drinks and I’m sure I’ll run into you later.”

Later that night Jordan got back together with his GF, moved in with her, and then 2 years later I fell into silly lust with that cocky bastard.

Okay, the date:
We met in front of the bar and he was as cute as I remembered. The bouncer looked at my ID and smiled. He grabbed Architect’s ID and looked at it, looked at the Architect, looked at me, then at the ID again.

Bouncer: “Yeah man! Get it! Congrats dude! Right on!”

Architect ushers me into the bar, grabs us a table, and orders beers. Reminder that I’m 3 very expensive cocktails in and my filter has disappeared.

Me: “Um, what was the bouncer saying to you?”
Him: “What? Oh nothing. It’s not a big deal.”
Me: “No really, what was that about?”
Him: “It was my birthday yesterday, so he was probably just wishing me a belated birthday.”
Me: “Oh! Happy birthday! Cheers!”

We chat for about an hour and I realize that I’ve had about 3 beers but neither of us has gotten up to go get any of them.

Me: “Wait. Are these magic beers? Where do they keep coming from?
Him: “Oh, well I was here last night for my birthday. It’s my favorite bar. The bartender knows what I like so he just keeps ‘em coming. I love having a local bar to go too.”
Me: “Fun! Was it a big birthday?”
Him: “Um, no, nothing out of the ordinary. Just some friends came out and we had some beers.”
Me: “What number did you celebrate? I’m turning 29 this year.”
Him: “Ummm do you want another beer?”
Me: “No, I’m good for now. I love birthdays! Did you have a cake? It’s not a real birthday unless you have a cake. I love cake.” (Can you tell I’m getting drunk?!) “Come on, tell me how old you are. I already told you my age.”
Him: “Um, well see, the thing is, I, uh, just turned 21.”
Me: “I’m sorry. I think I heard you wrong. Did you just say you were 21? Like born in the 1990’s and not able to drink until YESTERDAY?!”
Him: “Right, see this is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you would freak out. Look, I’m super mature for my age. And it’s just a number. You aren’t that much older than me!”
Me: “Do you know who Alf is?”
Him: “Sorry, who? Is that a friend of yours?”
Me: “Do you know what I mean when I say I’m MacGyvering up a plan?”
Him: “You mean MacGruber? Like from SNL?”
Me: “No. Like MacGyver. The TV Show.”
Him: “Um, you’re totally overreacting. This isn’t a big deal. We’re like 7 years apart.”

So I’m a little drunk and obviously making a bigger deal out of this than needed. But he doesn’t know who ALF AND MACGVYER ARE!

Me: “You don’t know who Alf and Macgyver are! You were probably raised on turkey bacon and prefer the “New Age” Ninja Turtles with the weird anime faces. I have to go. You are toooo young for me.  Wait. Does this also means that you are still in college?! ARE YOU AN INTERN?! DO YOU EVEN HAVE A REAL JOB?!”
Him: “Tara, you are screaming. Stop. Seriously, you are being ridiculous. I skipped a grade, so yes, I graduated college. I do have a real job. I have an apartment, and I’m rad. So shut up and deal with the age thing.”

At some point I had stood up and was going to walk out, but then he kissed me. Like realllllly kissed me. Like pushed up against a wall and kissed. It was hot and it totally shut me up.

Him: “So. Are we done with the age thing? Can we go back to my place?”
Me: “Totally. Done. Shutting up. Lets go.”

We leave the bar and the bouncer high fives him.

Him: “I live right around the corner….”

To be continued…

“Oh, Baby” Chris – A Guest Post Survived by Rebecca

WHO: “Oh, Baby” Chris

WHAT: A real-life date with a bartender I met at a cool little tiki bar in town

WHEN: A few years ago

WHERE: Florida

WHY: Because I’d just gotten out of a 5 year relationship
THE DATE
It was the first date I went on after being in a five year relationship.  So, granted, I was very nervous, but excited and hopeful.

I met Chris at a cool little tiki bar here in town.  He was a bartender, and anyone who gives me a drink is usually someone I enjoy talking to.  He was about 6’5″, so I was automatically attracted to him (duh).  Tall, dark, and handsome? Why the hell not?!

The introduction went something like this:
Him: “Here’s your drink.”
Me: “Thanks!  Who the hell are you, and are you single?”
Him: “I’m Chris, and yes.”

Somehow we ended up with phone numbers exchanged (may have had to do with the multiple delicious pear ciders I consumed that afternoon and more me forcing my number upon him, but whatever), and had a nice little text convo for the next few days. During these discussions, I learned he lived on a sailboat in one of the marinas in town. How romantic and pirate-y! I imagined a fabulous boat docked in front of one of the best sunset spots in town and thought I was winning.

It was a little different than I imagined.

The invite to come and have wine on his sailboat and watch the sunset sounded fabulous. More like faaaaaaaaabulous!  I love boats and wine and sunsets and tall dudes!  Right on!

Nope.

The text came about 30 minutes before I was to meet him.

“Don’t forget a sweater for the dinghy ride.”

I’m sorry, dinghy ride???  My pirate fantasy went from sexual to more of a refugee situation.  Apparently he was not docked at the marina, but moored in the middle of the bay.

But I decided what the hell?  Might as well go. Sounds safe…

I met him and was promptly ushered to a small rowboat (nope – no motor) in which I had the most uncomfortable fifteen minute ride to his sailboat. Kind of an ok boat, but I was a little unnerved watching my quick escape from someone I had never met slip away into the distance. I am not good at rowing boats, so I was now his captive until he rowed me back to shore.

We actually had good conversation and drank some decent wine, which obviously led to a makeout sesh under the stars. About two minutes in he leans over me and whispers, “OH, BABY” in my ear. Like, creeper whispers. And couldn’t you wait a little before the sexual whisper? And never use the term, “Oh baby?”

I responded with, “Who the hell are you?! Justin Bieber?!” Which makes no sense as he is about twice as tall and twice as old….but could one be any creepier?

He got super offended, and I then had to ask him to kindly row me back to shore. He grudgingly obliged, and if I thought the row out to the boat was unnerving, this was way weirder.

And then it started to rain. Hard. With lightening and thunder. Because obviously.

So, I gave him an awkward hug goodbye and made the soggy walk to my car. Before I left I advised him that he should probably not be rowing in a thunderstorm. I think it showed I cared a little? I really was just channeling my mother, father and every adult I have ever met.

I saw him a few more times at the bar, and couldn’t hear anything but “OH BABY” in my head and started laughing too hard to order every time, so I had to find a new place to drink.

Thank God there are so many bars in the world.

Frenchy – Survived by Tara

Sidenote from Tara:
While lounging on the beach in Thailand with no wifi and about 4 coconut cocktail drinks in me, I passed out for some vacation napping and then woke up remembering three dates from my past. They had been shoved down in my subconscious only to have resurfaced after being drunk. And sunburned. Sigh.

WHO: Frenchy. He had some other yummy-sounding French name but I can’t remember it.

WHAT: I’m fairly certain it was an OkCupid date

WHEN: I think it was 2011 but my timeline lately has been way off.

WHERE: Night Life at Academy of Sciences, then a bar, then his house, then my house.  You would think these were 4 dates. It wasn’t. It was one.

WHY: He was French. He had moved here a year before and he oozed sexy man-ness. At least he oozed it via messages. He was sarcastic, tall-ish, muscle-y, and laughed at all the weird American words I liked to make up (man-ness, ginormous, Radicalturbobadness, etc.). He bought tickets to Night Life and met me at my apartment like a gentleman. He was older, about 32. (I love that I thought that was old back then, seeing as how I’ll be 32 in November.) He also seemed like a “real” man. I was stoked.

THE DATE
He met me at my apartment. I wasn’t ready yet, so he came in and asked for the wifi password to check directions. When I moved into my NOPA house in SF, my friend Ben Red was helping move heavy objects. He very seriously mentioned that we should call this The House of Ass, since all of us girls had rocking booties. When I installed the internet, the pressure to name it was so overwhelming that it became House of Ass. Six years later it hasn’t changed. I tell Frenchy the name and he straight up giggles. What manly man giggles like a school girl?

Anyways, we walked to Nightlife and had a good time. We headed to a bar, and he charmed me with both French phrases and French wine. All of a sudden it was 2am, the bar was closing, and I was in no shape to get home. He said he lived around the corner and offered to make me his “famous” grilled cheese, and then he’d get me a cab home. I’m a sucker for food and I was oddly into this guy. Nothing seemed wrong with him, so why not?

We step outside and he lights a cigarette.

Me: “I thought you said you didn’t smoke?”
Him: “I don’t, just one when I drink wine. My place is just over there.”

He kills the cigarette, we head upstairs, we eat grilled cheese, we find ourselves in bed a little later. Feel free to fill in the blanks. After a bit he lights another cigarette. We’re naked in bed, and he’s smoking.

Me: “I thought you said you only smoke one?”
Him: “I did, this is the same one from earlier.”
Me: “I watched you put it out.”
Him: “Nope, this is the same one. I saved it. Also, I’m French. I always smoke after sex.” He leans in to kiss me. “It’s a compliment.”
Me: “That’s a new cigarette. I watched you take it out of the pack and light it. I’m literally laying next to you.”
Him: “You’re just in a sex haze and aren’t wearing your glasses.”

I get up and gather my things. I’m sobering up and decide a walk home may suit me perfectly.

Him: “Look, I’ll put it out, don’t leave.”
Me: “No, it’s okay, I need to head home anyways.”
Him: “It’s 6am. Come on.”
Me: “It’s nice out, sun rising, I’ll walk.”
Him: “At least let me walk you home.”

We head out and as soon as we hit the street, he lights another cigarette.

Me: “Seriously?”
Him: “I promise you, it’s the same one. They are these long-lasting French cigarettes that last ages, kinda like me.” Giggle, giggle, giggle.

Now I’m officially over it. He was ridiculous. And he giggled again. This time like a weird old man.

We get to my house, and I struggle opening the door. I forgot that I had a pile of old costumes that I was going to give away blocking the door.

I turn around to give him a wave or half hug because the smoke smell is so gross, and he is LIGHTING UP ANOTHER NEW CIGARETTE.

Me: “I just saw you light that brand new cigarette. In the future when you say you don’t smoke, you are totally lying.”
Him: “Seriously, mon cherie, you need to wear your glasses. This is the same one from earlier tonight. Maybe you need to get your eyes checked again. Hey! What is that shiny green thing? Are you tossing this stuff? Oh! Hot pink tights?”

He starts pulling out my old Salsa costumes and old dance stuff, and proceeds to PUT THEM ON. Somwhere in the pile of sparkle he looses his cigarette.

I look at him wearing my tub top as a skirt, and he PULLS OUT A PACK OF CIGARETTES, takes one out, and LIGHTS A BRAND NEW ONE.

I just stare at him.

Him: “It’s the same one, I swear. I only smoke one. Can I have this stuff?”

I throw the bag and him out, slam the door and lock it.

Him: “So I’ll call you?”

China Steve – Survived by Sarah

WHO: His screen name was China Steve because he had gone on a work trip to China and in the middle of his trip had written his POF profile. It seems like there might be way cooler things to do in your downtime in China, but maybe that’s just me. You should also maybe not include this information in your dating profile, but again maybe that’s just me. Maybe some girls like boring oversharers with no life. 

WHAT: Another gem from Plenty of Fish, and my first date since officially splitting for the last and final time from my ex whom I also met on POF.

WHEN: Two days ago (June 23, 2015)

WHERE: We both lived in the same neighborhood and he suggested a bar I hadn’t been to that supposedly had good beer and food.

WHY: Because breakup, heartache, desperation not to return to singlehood, bla bla bla.

THE DATE
The thought of dating again made me physically ill. It had only been a week since my breakup and I wasn’t by any means over it. I had zero closure as he had basically fallen off the face of the earth after pledging his undying love to me. But I know my mental limits fortunately and I know when I’m about to start emotionally spiraling. So to avoid coming unglued I plowed ahead and reluctantly downloaded all the dating apps again.

If ignorance is bliss then denial must be the best medicine…right?

I was not excited to go on this date. But I was excited to try a new place in my neighborhood as I don’t go out that often these days. Over the previous two months I had flown to CA five times for various wedding events, so I was slightly strapped for cash. I made a quick dinner at home after yoga and then headed out to meet China Steve.

Pro online dating tip: When you are only committed to a drink, it’s easier to leave faster. It also saves you money.

The bar was in a lovely tree-shaded section of Old Ballard. The weather had been unreasonably hot for Seattle, but under the shade of the trees it was actually nice. I got to the bar and saw they had all the windows open and it looked like a breezy, hip little place.

Well, I was wrong.

I walked inside and was hit with a stifling wall of dead hot air. The place was stagnant and I should have taken that as a bad omen of what was to come.

The guy was…an engineer. I’m not sure how else to describe him. He didn’t quite know how to dress, he had uncomfortably terrible social skills, and his teeth were terrible. He wasn’t even close to looking like his photos. The cherry on top was the coin he was wearing on a lanyard around his neck.

Before everyone gets all up in arms, I know there are some well-adjusted normal engineers. Some of them are even my friends. But let’s face it, all of the engineers who are on dating apps are not the ones worth dating.

This guy didn’t know how to engage in conversation, he only knew how to answer questions. He gave me nothing back. It’s exhausting to do all the interviewing on your own, and at some point I just gave up. Whenever things got silent and uncomfortable, I just started riding it out. Waiting. And so did he. What a bore.

He had just come back from a month long work trip to China and I asked him about it. He told me he’s been there twice and is really well travelled.

Me: “I love traveling. Where else have you been?”
Him: “Nowhere else outside the U.S., just China twice.”
Me: “Oh…did you get to go anywhere else while you were over there?”
Him: “No, I usually just went to the office and hung around my hotel on my off-time.”
Me: “Oh…”

He mentioned that he goes on road trips with his friends a lot.

Me: “Oh cool, where do you guys go?”
Him: “Well, I really want to go to Yellowstone and Yosemite and all the national parks. But I always just go where everyone else is already going, so we’ve gone to the same place in WA three years in a row.”
Me: “Oh…”

I drained my beer fairly quickly in the gross sticky air of the bar that rivaled the heat outside. Washington people don’t know how to deal with any weather outside of a 10 degree bracket from 65 to 75 degrees. Snow plows and air conditioners don’t exist here.

He sure seemed to be taking his sweet time finishing his beer.

The waitress came over and asked if we wanted another drink. I did not.

China Steve did not take the hint, and took his sweet time perusing the extensive beer list. Then he finally just ordered what I had had.

It was agony waiting for him to finish that beer. I got up and went to the bathroom just for something to do, and when I came back it almost seemed like he had more beer in his cup than when I left.

At some point we talked about Adam Scott. I mentioned I really enjoy him and that a friend I went to elementary school with just wrote a movie Adam Scott starred in. (Shameless plug: Everyone go see The Overnight)

As soon as that last sip hit his lips, I stood up impatiently. We walked outside and I hugged him briefly. I mentioned the requisite “let’s totally do this again” thing and walked off.

He texted me the next morning and said, “Adam Scott did a Reddit AMA last night. It was the perfect opportunity for you to ask him all your nerdy fan questions.”

Having no idea what Reddit is and zero desire to speak to him again, I sighed and deleted him from from my phone.

But I still really like Adam Scott. It’s too bad he’s not taller. Or married. Or someone I will ever probably actually meet due to my crippling inability to ever play it cool around famous people. Oh well.

The Night of Two Dates – Survived by Sarah

WHO: His screen name was North by Northeast, never got his real name. You’ll see why. #internetdating

WHAT: A Plenty of Fish date that turned into The Night of Two Dates. You’d think that was a good thing, but you’d be wrong.

WHERE: It started with a mexican restaurant I’d been wanting to try in my neighborhood that had outdoor seating and boasted great cocktails, and ended with a severely overpriced hipster bar with designer cocktails in way-too-small glasses that was also in my neighborhood and had a nice outdoor patio.

WHEN: last night (June 24, 2015)

WHY: Because I’m living in some pretty deep denial about a recent breakup and the only thing keeping me sane is staying busy and not being alone. So for this week I had lined up dates three nights in a row. If you keep “casting your line,” you’re bound to eventually catch a good fish…right? See what I did there with the fishing euphemism? The guy was from Plenty of Fish, get it?

I’m running out of dating whit.

THE DATE(S)
So the Sunday before the date, I’d cracked open an egg with two yolks. Then on Tuesday I’d eaten a cherry with two pits. I joked that I had a date coming up that would probably end up being twins, while secretly hoping the universe wasn’t giving me some awful sign that I would be bearing twins. Crisis averted, I am not currently bearing anything.

Also, I did not end up going out with twins. I ended up going on a date where the guy never showed. I was stood up. It was my first time, and let me tell you it feels really great.

The guy and I had made plans on the previous Friday to meet at the restaurant on Wednesday at 7pm. We had just been messaging via Plenty of Fish and hadn’t exchanged phone numbers yet, and his profile didn’t list his name. I messaged him when I got to the restaurant and let him know I got a table for us outside. I waited 20 minutes while obsessively checking my phone every 2 seconds. No response from him, and he never showed. I could see the door from where I was sitting, so I don’t think he showed up and left (the nightmare assumption of every person who has ever been stood up).

I had already eaten dinner so I was just planning to get a drink, and I’d already told the waitress three times that I was waiting for “my friend” to show up to order. So after sitting there pathetically for 20 minutes, I made up some excuse about how “my friend” was all the way across town and wasn’t going to make it and I had to go meet her but would be back on another day. The waitress definitely didn’t believe me and she said annoyedly, “That’s fine, life happens.” She cleared the table before I even had time to stand up from my chair.

Out of sheer desperation to not totally hate myself and feel alone, I convinced someone on tinder to meet me that evening at 9pm. I have no memory of what his name was, but we’d had really great conversation for about a week before, and he kept saying he swore he knew me from somewhere.

But why I’d tried so hard to get him to meet me is a little baffling. After all our great Tinder conversation, he’d ended it by saying: “I would love to get a drink. But I’ll be travelling for a bit next week and not sure when/if I’m coming back. So there’s that.”

That’s a direct quote.

I wrote back “Ok, well if you ever come back and are up for it, let me know.”

He said “Surely.”

What the hell. How does anyone ever end up together?

So out of desperation, I message him on Tinder and say, “Any chance you’re free tonight? Just had plans cancel.” He said he was and we made a plan.

He was from CA as well and claimed that he “worked as a professional artist.” I found out later that meant he was a 3-D animator for Microsoft, so much less dreamy than it sounded. He also mentioned he was 6’2” and tattooed, but when I saw him in person the only tattoo I could see was a small yin yang on his wrist. And he was definitely closer to 6 feet. In person he informed me he was a hippie and did yoga, but that he loves trance music.

SIGH.

He was not a hippie, he was from Willits. He was a fake transplant wannabe hipster hippie who was wearing a t-shirt with some sort of video game graphic on it. And he had that stupid sorta Elvis-y swoop to his hair that hipsters have.

He ordered a Manhattan. He claimed not to know what Bing is, even though he works for Microsoft, but he did know the episode of Friends where Ross wears leather pants. He said at some point, “I’m sorry about your plans getting cancelled,” and looked at me like I was the most pathetic thing on the planet.

He mentioned more than once “going the other way” and “switching sides.” When we talked about leather pants (why were we talking about leather pants?) he said he will only wear them when he “goes the other way” and that they “will have to be assless.” I had a really strong feeling he wasn’t playing for my team, if you know what I mean.

He was sort of condescending and not very funny. He didn’t understand when I was being sarcastic and he thought I was being “super defensive” when I said I’m not a vegan. I wasn’t, for the record. We also discussed how great it is that Amazon delivers every Prime order within Seattle in one day instead of two now.

Him: “Soon there will be drones showing up all over the place.”
Me: “Having a robot show up at my door sounds really creepy.”
Him: “Well you should get over that. It’s 2015 and robots are the future.”

During one of the moments where he was discussing “switching to the other side,” I mentioned that Seattle had painted 11 crosswalks rainbow in Capitol Hill earlier in the day. He told me I am a poser because I didn’t see them in real life but instead got the news online. He even put his head in his hands and shook it.

I was counting the sips in his drink until I could leave. He was drinking his bullshit drink with all the speed of a sloth. My $13 drink was gone in about 5 sips as it was served in a half-full champagne glass. The waitress came over and asked if we wanted another drink, and I quickly said, “No, I’m done, thanks.”

The idiot across the table from me paused and sort of sighed. While staring at me he said to the waitress, “Oh. Well, I was going to get another Manhattan please.”

I dug my nails into my thighs under the table. He sort of smirked at me. He did everything “sort of,” which is obnoxious as shit.

He didn’t think it was endearing that I tend to exaggerate numbers, which I do quite often. Examples: “It was 400 degrees,” “There were a billion people,” etc. He couldn’t tell when I was joking and he was just all around the worst. I mentioned I should probably go soon. He said he was going to stay when I left, and then kept blathering on about something or other.

Finally around 10:20 I said I really needed to get going.

Him: “But it’s early. You’re not that old.”
Me: “Well, I have to get up at 6 tomorrow for work. So I’m gonna go.”
Him: “Ok.”

He still had half of his second snobby drink sitting on the table.

Me, trying to be nice: “I feel bad leaving you here when you still haven’t finished your drink.” I may have put some emphasis on “still.”
Him: “I’ll manage.”
Me: “Well, I need to go inside because I haven’t paid for my drink yet.”
Him: “Ok.”

He stood up and I went in to hug him and he said, “What are you doing?”
I looked at him confused and said, “I thought you were staying?”
He looked annoyed and said, “No, I’m leaving. I can at least walk you out, geez.”

I stomped ahead of him and paid for my drink, no offer from him.

Me: “Aren’t you going to stay and finish your drink?”
Him: “No. What am I going to do, walk you out and then run back in?”

We walked to the corner and thankfully we both were headed in opposite directions from there. I gave him a limp hug and patted his back.

Him: “Oh, I just get a pat?”
I glared at him and said, “What? I hugged you.”
Him: “Well Sarah, I’m sorry I’m not what you thought I’d be.”
Me: “Well, good luck in all your endeavors. See ya.”

And the stupid night of two terrible dates finally came to a stupid end.

Max Fox Part 1 – Survived by Sarah

WHO: Max Fox. And yes, that is his real name.

WHAT: Craigslist date

WHEN: early 2007ish

WHERE: San Francisco

WHY: Because he was a musician and cute and tall and a musician. I’m only human.

 

THE DATE 

Oh, Max Fox. What a saga. Here comes part 1.

 So this guy was a musician, obviously. His emails were funny and charming and subtle, which was a lovely departure from the gratuitous filth men had been sending me. Oh, Craigslist. Oh, 2007 Sarah.

Max Fox and I emailed back and forth for a couple weeks, witty banter a plenty. We tried to make plans but could never quite line up our schedules, and then he invited me to come see him play a show. Isn’t that every girl’s dream? What is it about musicians? This was my first foray into the field, and I was falling for it hook, line, and sinker. The show he was playing was in a venue that doubled as a Laundromat and a coffee shop/bar. I enlisted my roommate Karen to come with me just in case he was a serial killer.

Karen and I headed to the show fashionably late, which in the real world is simply late. The band was already playing so we stood in the back trying to figure out which guy Max Fox was. We had seen a vague photo of him on his band’s MySpace page, but it may have been angled or blurry. This was 2007, after all. Nobody really had all these snazzy iPhones that take professional quality photos. And yes, I am old.

Nevertheless, my roomies and I had all decided he was cute enough to warrant meeting in person. And did I mention he was tall and in a band? Karen and I decided that the hot guitarist was definitely Max Fox, and we spent the next hour watching him. We were getting excited because he was hot and talented and seemed to sort of like me, at least enough to invite me here.

After the show, we sort of hung around in the back awkwardly waiting for people to begin dispersing. I can’t remember now how things went, but I think Max Fox finally walked up to me. He was definitely not the hot guitarist, but he was the still fairly cute tall bassist. Once I adjusted my brain to like this person rather than the other one, we chatted a bit.

My other roommate’s boyfriend was having a party that night, and I invited Max Fox to join me there a bit later. He and the band had to pack up because the “Laundrobar” was closing, but he agreed and I gave him the address.

Karen and I headed to the party, and I was pretty elated. I had never done actual dating before, and this was my first encounter from CraigsList that seemed like it was going to go well. If my memory is correct, I waited like 2 hours for Max Fox to show up. I was starting to think he wasn’t coming so I was a few drinks deep by the time he finally called me and said he was lost. I yelled at Karen across the party that I was going to meet Max Fox (yes, you have to say his whole name every time because it’s fun) and ran outside. 

He sauntered up the sidewalk out of the dark and gave me a hug. Musicians, am I right?

We decided to go for a walk, and headed into Golden Gate Park which was just a few blocks away from the party. I can’t remember if Max brought a six pack with him or if we stopped and bought one, but we eventually ended up on a swing set in the park drinking a six pack.

We talked and talked for hours and it was amazing.

We had so much in common, and he was sensitive and interesting and seemed to really like me. And we both owned typewriters, which made the nerdy writer in me so happy. It was one of those magical first encounters you see in movies. On swings. It was all the special garbage that romance is made of.

We had already exchanged phone numbers and we both said we definitely wanted to get together again soon. He drove me back to my apartment and I thought for sure he would kiss me. 

Spoiler alert: He didn’t. 

And over a month passed and I still hadn’t heard from him.

But then….stay tuned next week for the thrilling conclusion!