Beet Salad – Survived by Ian (Guest Post!)

From Tara: So this week I couldn’t get around to dating. I just couldn’t. My friend Ian is in town and we’re on our way to biscuits and gravy when I get a text from Sarah asking where my date post was. I became frantic, but Ian came to the rescue. As a long-time reader, he was excited to become a first-time poster. Ian is amazing. He’s the bestie to my bestie Alex, and is in Seattle for the next month. We’ve been adventuring around and when he told me this story, I knew it had to be unleashed. I’ll get back to my awful dates next week, I promise! Also for the record, Ian is dictating.

WHO: Brunhilda- names have been changed. Duh. Who would actually name their kid Brunhilda. Note: The name Brunhilda originates from Tetuonic battle maiden. Ian insists people will find this fascinating.
(Editor’s note from Sarah: In a crazy coincidence, my boyfriend and I watched Django Unchained last night, which happens to have a character named Brunhilda. Apparently Ian and I are on the same wavelength.)

WHAT: OkCupid.

WHEN: Sometime in 2013. Ian had taken a hiatus from working out at sea on high-end luxury cruise ships that attract a clientele rarely under the age of 65.

WHERE: San Francisco. The plan was dinner and drinks.

WHY: Having never actually lived in a city, he decided to dive into the online dating world. See what I did there? Dive head first? Ian works on a boat? Har har har.
THE DATE
After a few pep talks from encouraging city-savvy female roommates, Ian headed out to meet his very first online date. He was nervous, excited, and mostly curious to see how dating worked on land. For the last almost 10 years he’d only been in college dorms,  on boats, or traveling where romance consisted of flirting with someone until the point that they sneak into your bunk on a lonely night.

He saw Brunhilda waiting outside the restaurant. Pleasantly surprised that she looked like her picture, she gave him an easy smile, a hug, and no weirdness. They grabbed a table and he realized that this could be just like in the movies. He was excited! What could go wrong?

Brunhilda: “So this is really your first time dating? Like ever?”
Ian: “Prrrrrretttty much. I travel so much for work and I’m never in one place, so that makes it hard.”
Brunhilda: “And you decided to try out SF?”
Ian: “Yeah, I heard the rent is really cheap here. Thought this would be a good place to start.”(Editor’s note from Tara: I HATE 2013 IAN. CHEAP RENT??!!)
Brunhilda: “This is your first time paying rent?!”
Ian: “Yeah!”
Brunhilda: “That’s kinda like losing your virginity to a 12 inch cock…”
Ian: “… that is certainly one way to put it. I guess it’s a good thing then that I’m sharing the rent with two roommates?”

By this time he was liking her. Their profiles shared similar interests about travel, and her profile was heavy on exploring and adventure aspects. Her apparent shared enthusiasm about these things was why he had asked her out.

Brunhilda: “So you’ve been all over the world?”
Ian: “I’ve been really lucky, working on ships is a great way to get paid to see some amazing places I’d never be able to go to otherwise, like Antarctica or tropical islands in the middle of the Pacific.”
Brunhilda: “Wow! That’s so cool! Did you see polar bears in Antarctica?!”
Ian: “Haha I think you have the north and south pole confused. Where was the last place you traveled?”
Brunhilda: “Sonoma.”
Ian: “Oh! So like an hour away?”
Brunhilda: “That was a few months ago.”
Ian: “But where have you been recently, you know, further afield?”
Brunhilda: “I went to Mexico three years ago.”
Ian: “Oh. So you don’t travel that much then?”
Brunhilda: “No, I really like staying put here in San Francisco.”

Ian’s thought process at this moment: ‘So, this is my first date. Is it normal that her profile isn’t matching up? Let’s let this one slide for now.’

Ian: “So how long have you been in SF?”
Brunhilda: “About seven years, I came here right after college.”
Ian: “Wow, so did you graduate really early?”

Sidebar: Her profile she said she was 25.

Brunhilda: “Nope! Just normal graduation age!”
Ian: “So, 22?”
Brunhilda: “Yep!”
Ian: “And you’ve been in SF for 7 years?”
Brunhilda: “Oh.”
Ian: “Yeah, I’m a mathematical prodigy.”

Waiter arrives, saving the day from more awkwardness.

Turns out Brunhilda is a vegetarian and can’t decide between the special and a salad. Diplomatic and hungry, Ian offers to split a salad so she can have her cake and eat it too.

Brunhilda: “Any dietary constraints?”
Ian: “I will eat pretty much anything except for beets.”
Brunhilda: “Really? That’s so random.”
Ian: “I grew up in Australia and they use them in burgers instead of tomaaaaaatoes.”
Brunhilda: “Hahahaha! You say tomaaaatoes!”
Waiter: “Have we decided?”

Brunhilda quickly scans the salad menu and says, “We’ll have the beet salad.”

Ian: ……..

Waiter leaves.

Brunhilda: “OHHHHH, whoops!”
Ian: “Yeah.”
Brunhilda: “I just can’t believe someone wouldn’t like beets!”
Ian: “I’m sure I can eat around them.”

Their food comes out a little later, and it’s an entire plate of JUST beets. They have an awkward moment of realization resulting in shared laughter. So, despite a few red flags, Ian was actually having a good time and feeling like a real human. He was definitely confidant that Brunhilda was NOT his soulmate, but still the company was good and he couldn’t wait to report back to the roomies about the dating world, which he was now totally apart of.

Ian: “This was really fun!”
Brunhilda: “Yeah! We should meet again, I know this great beet place!”
Ian: “Hahahahaha, that sounds perfect.”
Brunhilda: “So, I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’m having a really good time too.”
Ian: “I’m glad its mutual!”
Brunhilda: “Yeah. The thing is, I haven’t been entirely open.”
Ian: “Oh yeah?”
Brunhilda: “Yeah. The thing is I actually, umm, am married.
Ian: “WOW. I definitely missed that on the singles dating profile.”
Brunhilda: “Hahahaha. Well, my husband knows I’m here and in fact, if you were open to it, he’s back at our place and we would be happy to have you over.”
Ian: “Remember that one time when I told you this was my first time dating? That seems like a pretty big first step.”
Brunhilda, slyly winking:  “You’re already doing it with the rent. And at least it’s not 12 inches…..”

Annnnnnnnnnd scene.

Henry – Survived by Sarah

WHO: Henry, the tall, cute, single, high school English teacher
WHAT: OkCupid date
WHEN: End of 2014 or early 2015. Who can remember after all these bad dates?
WHERE: Seattle, WA
WHY: Because for a tall girl who has two English degrees and went to school to be a teacher, how many tall, cute, single English teachers are there really out there? The answer is one, and it was this guy.

Those Who Were Too Terrible To Make It To A Date – Survived by Sarah and Tara

From Sarah: Those are the kind of text conversations Tara and I have on the regs when dealing with the dregs of online dating. So this week, we celebrate the truly terrible guys who have messaged us, been matched with us, or forced upon us by Tinder.  These are the ones who usually don’t even get a message back from us, let alone a date. These are the guys with the worst of the worst opening lines, profile photos, and conversation. It might be judgey, but having to sort through this kind of dating garbage all the time begins to take it’s toll. And did you even know there is a dating app called Coffee Meets Bagel? Well, there is. And it’s terrible too. So now we are compiling them all into one post to laugh at them. Enjoy.

From Tara: In preparation of the big move and with Sarah dating someone, we have been cleaning out our dating text messages and found these fabulous gems. They are all AWFUL. Be thankful you aren’t single. Or if you are single, be thankful that you hopefully have better luck than Sarah and I. Either way, gross.

Um…thank you?

I probably could have been nicer, but he is wearing a hat that says DJ CHANCE and a shirt that says DEPECHE FUCKIN MODE. 70% match was OkCupid being extremely generous with their guidelines.

At least Ryan gets straight to the point with his photo.

“The boy next door.”

Errr……that’s a lot of face tattoos….

Oh my…

This was Chad’s profile photo. He was a real estate investor and DJ. He got blocked.

The kind of guy you want to bring home to mom.

It should go without saying, but no, ndelpecdel52, I do not.

Let’s file this guy under the “things you shouldn’t wear in your Tinder profile photo: wedding ring” category.

NEVER COMPROMISE ON BAD SPELLING.

Just your average San Francisco fella.

I’m  not sure why things didn’t work out with this fellow, he clearly has everything I’m looking for.

I’m so glad he said JK! I thought he was really going to arrest me!

Let’s file this friend under the “things you shouldn’t tell someone you have never met: you’re sterile” category.

If you want to date me, never ask me this and yes I was so mad I spelled angry wrong. So sue me.

No. Let’s not.

I hate your username so much.

To all men out there: taking topless photos of yourself in public bathrooms is never ok.

It’s spelled “would,” boo.

……………..sigh.

There is something actually medically wrong with this guy’s arm. What..on earth…

Yep, this is totally going to make me want to date you. Why don’t you throw in a free copy of Fifty Shades of Grey while you’re at it? I’m single, not desperate. Also, are they in a bath? Pool? Weird cult water mountain?!

A lovely little lesson on my fertility.

This was his actual profile photo. At least he isn’t selling himself short.

This is the kind of shit Facebook now recommends to me.

This was his actual main profile photo. What am I even supposed to do with that?

Hey guys! DON’T TELL A GIRL THIS! Also, he continued to message me about how he didn’t win, but would definitely score at another thing if I wanted….UGHHHHHH.

Does anyone know if tattie is a compliment?

Needless to say, Lord_Salad and I never made it to down dog (see what I did there?).

Honestly, being paid to date someone was one of the better offers I ever received.

See what I mean?

More things that make me never want to date another human ever. Like is this his weird harem? Sisterwives? I can’t even.

Just….no.

Quadruple no.

Does it count as breaking the ice if you screw up the joke and the other person doesn’t respond?

God gave this guy money but apparently not a face, so I guess he wasn’t that good to him.

A lesson on dating manners from this guy…

Thank you for your life story. My fancy was not sparked.

This guy is looking to see what’s out there, but what’s out there can’t fucking see him.

Aaaaand Lord_Salad came back! Thanks for not taking a hint, guy!

This is one of the most truly baffling profile photos I’ve seen. I cannot get over that fire hydrant on the right. Why is it there???

What?? Just…what??

This friend is really really good at profile photos because he is a classic man.

Thanks for ruining that line for me forever.

Is it a known fact that bodyguards are low on the creepy scale? I haven’t seen the film The Bodyguard in like 20 years, however I do remember feeling creeped out.

I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to like her comportment.

That was probably too mean of me to say, but as that previous guy pointed out, I don’t have time to mess around with the wrong guy because my fertile years are running out.

Never compromise on this guy.

As John Mayer once said, your body is a wonderland.

Kris With A K – Survived by Tara

Side Note: As  most of you have seen on Facebook, I’m leaving the bay! This is both exciting and terrifying. I’m heading north to Seattle where I will be in the same zip code as my DPIC. This means lots of things for you, our nearest and dearest readers:

1. We are going speed dating. 
2. Tara is forcing Sarah to join an adventure dating group with her.
3. There will be a YouTube channel where we drink, eat, and talk about boys. It will of course be themed.
4. Since Sarah is seeing someone, this means that there will be loads of weird double dates.
5. Since Sarah is seeing someone, this also means that she will have time to be my dating pimp.

Lucky YOU! Lucky ME?

Anyway, since I’m moving, on a budget, living on friend’s couches, and working like a crazy person, I don’t have the means to date at the moment. So instead, I’ve been getting back in touch with friends and  reminiscing abpout the past. I recently had dinner with an old friend, Wes, and remembered this goodie, and then SAW HIM ON THE STREET YESTERDAY. Ugh. The universe is telling me to leave.

WHO: Kris with a K (REALLY!?? who does that!!!)

WHAT: OkCupid

WHEN: Sluttly summer, 2011. We went on 5 dates.

WHERE: San Francisco, the Mission and Lower Haight to be exact.

WHY: He loved to dance. Also, he had a full head of hair, said he was taller than me, and oh right, HE LOVED TO DANCE. I’m not sure if some of you know, but I love to dance. Not just a little step touch and shoulder shrugging at a bar, but I LOVE to dance. I majored in dance in college, I know “Thriller” and “Beat It” by heart, I used to dance in a tour Salsa company, I teach couples first dances for weddings, and I am a fairly good burlesque dancer. So when a guy says he loves to dance, I’m not only interested, I’m instantly planning our future.

THE DATES
He was smart. And he knew his dance lingo. I was so shocked after our first couple of messages. He knew about pirouettes, he knew the history behind ballroom dancing, and could do the basic Salsa step. I was smitten. We set up a date for coffee on a Friday afternoon around 4pm.

Now, for our male friends who are dating, this is the smartest first date you could plan. Coffee around 4 means you can hang for an hour and if she’s crazy, you can then make up an excuse and leave. If you are totally feeling each other, you can move on to dinner or drinks, and the night is your oyster. So, I was totally okay with this.

He was there early. A plus! He was, in fact, taller than me (shocked!), and he was cute. Like boy next door cute. Wholesome and the kind of guy who makes you think about the future without even knowing you are doing it. I knew I liked him the moment he smiled.

Kris: “Tara? You look amazing! I love your top. Anthropologie?” (This was long before I worked there, but I was already a crazy Anthro shopper.)
Me: “Yes! Thanks! How’d you know?”
Him: “I’ve got a sister.”
Me: “So Kris with a K?”
Kris: “I wanted to be unique, you know? Change things up a bit, so I changed it when I was 15.”
Me: “Oh, cool. I’m just Tara. With a T.”

We chatted a bit, and he had a great smile. He was smart, charming, and very handsome.

Me: “What kind of hobbies do you have Kris?”
Him: “So, I know this is going to sound totally weird, but I love to dance. I’m a ballet dancer and one of the principal dancers in Sacramento. I’m auditioning for the Nutcracker!”
Me: “Oh! That is so cool! I’m a Salsa dancer. So you’re really into ballet?”
Kris: “I know what you are thinking, and I’m totally into girls. In fact, how about we grab dinner? You are super fun and really pretty, so let’s get food and keep chatting.”

He was really easy to talk to. We had dinner and then drinks and then he walked me to my bus stop. I wanted him to kiss me. I gave him every single hint, and still nothing. We had hung out for 7 hours. That totally warranted a kiss. Or at least the promise of a kiss at our next date. He had tickets for Swan Lake next week. Would I like to go? Ummmm Duh. My bus came and there was a quasi-awkawd kiss cheek hug thing and a promise to call me later in the week to confirm.

Which he did. He called and we talked for an hour. We made plans to get pizza before the ballet, and I was so excited. Here was a guy I could talk to about one of my favorite things and he understood. He got it.We went to Little Star for dinner, where I randomly ran into my childhood best friend Wes who I hadn’t seen in over 18 years. Dinner was great, and we had AMAZING seats at the ballet, and I was smitten.

I have this weird habit when I see dance shows. I can’t keep my legs still. My feet move in time to the music and I often find myself swaying in my seat. He did this too. He grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear, ”Do you imagine yourself dancing? That’s why I can’t sit still either.”

Never once did my gaydar go off. He had totally convinced me that he was a straight, ballet-loving male. But four dates later, we still had not kissed.

I was officially baffled and over it. It had been 5 dates, dinner, drinks, movies, games, etc., and every night before we said goodbye, it was a kiss on the cheek and a hug followed by me rushing to get to my bus. I was done. I needed at least a little make out session. I was all for taking it slow, but this was just painful.

So on our 6th date (YES 6 dates without ANY KISSING, and this was almost 2 months!!!! UGHHHH!), we were getting ready to say goodnight and I couldn’t take it anymore.

Me: “Kris with a K, I think you should come over.”
Kris with a K: “Oh! Um, wow, well, I have rehearsal tomorrow.” He had gotten the lead in the Nutcracker.
Me: “I’ll set my alarm, You should really come over.” I cuddle up to him, getting real close.
Kris, putting his hands on my shoulders: “That is a really tempting offer Tara, but I have to pass, Rehearsal is early!”
Me: “Wait. Seriously? It’s been two months. We’ve been dating and you haven’t even really kissed me. Are you just not into me? Cause that is totally okay, but I just don’t want to waist both of our time if this isn’t going to go anywhere.”
Kris: “No! You are beautiful! I love hanging out with you! I just have to get up early!”
Me: “Okay, so when are we going to take this to the next level?”

I cringed at having to use the gross “grown up” lingo.

Kris: “Um…”
Me: “See?! I think you like hanging out with me, we’re both into dance, and you love having someone who gets that. I do too, but I also want to make out with you and maybe get naked if it goes well. See this? (Pointing to myself) THIS WANTS TO GET NAKED WITH YOU SOMEDAY. Are you sure you aren’t into dudes?”
Kris: “Ummm well, here is your bus, I’ll call you!”

Kris never called me. Which is fine, because I was over it. Again, I am all for taking things slow, but 6 dates was too far.

Flash Forward 6 months.

I’m walking home to my house in the lower haight after a REALLY long night of drinking. There are two cute guys holding hands walking about 15 feet in front of me. They are carrying groceries and talking about who was cooking what for dinner. They stopped to kiss each other and one did an amazing pirouette and I realized it was Kris with a K. HE WAS GAY! Before I could do anything about it, they fell into step with the world and disappeared.

Flash forward 5 years to Tuesday, aka yesterday.

I’m moving my shit from my bestie Jill’s house to my other bestie Alex’s house. Cause I’m still couch surfing until I move to Seattle on the 18th. I was moving all my millions of clothes into Alex’s house on Arguello when I hear, “Tara?”

I’m in ripped jeans, unshowered, glasses, and covered in piles of my clothes. I turn around and am face to face with Kris with a K.

Me: “OH! Um, Kris! With a K!”
Him: “You were the only one to call me that, lol.”
Me, awkward giggle: “Uh… How are you? I haven’t seen you since you wouldn’t kiss me about 5 years ago.”
Him: “Right, about that. I always wanted to call you and thank you really.”
Me: “Huh?”
Him: “That was the turning point for me. You called me out and I realized that I didn’t like women. I’m gay. I’ve been with my partner for almost 5 years. We’ve just adopted a baby girl! I live about 6 blocks from here!”

Me, speechless.

Me: “Wow, amazing.”
Him: “Have you found someone? You look great by the way. I love the grunge/grandma look you have going on.”
Me: “No, single. Moving to Seattle because there is literally nothing left for me here.”
Him: “Well, good luck! Nice seeing you! Thanks again! You changed my life!”

That makes the 2nd “ex” I’ve run into in 2 weeks. #nevercompromiseongettingthehelloutofacity

The Architect Part 2 – Survived by Tara

WHO: The Architect turned Torah-Dad. To be explained later.

WHAT: Meet Cute! Real life!

WHEN: A few years ago.

Where: On the bus on my way to work.

Why: So if you’re just tuning in, I’ve drunkenly gone home with a 21 year old that I met on a bus (see The Architect post from last week). When I write it out like that, I realize what an awful life choice I made. We’re going to fast forward to the next morning.

THE DATE
I bolt upright in bed and realize I have no idea where I am. I look around and try to get my bearings. I suddenly remember with a doomed feeling that I just slept with a 21 year old. I also realllllly have to pee. I throw on the first thing I find on the floor, my shirt and undies. I tiptoe out the door and down the hall, quietly opening doors and cursing every time I find a closet. Finally I find the bathroom, pee, and talk myself down out of the hysteria that comes from sleeping with a guy born in the 90’s. I fix my hair and open the door, and run smack into someone.

Me: “Oh! Uh, sorry. I’m terribly clumsy early in the morning.”
Tall guy: “Uh sorry. Who are you?”
Me: “Oh! I’m Tara.” I pull my shirt down over my undies, suddenly realizing that I’m not all that covered.
Tall guy: “DUDE! ARE YOU BUS GIRL?!!!!”
Me: “Sorry?”
Tall guy: “YOU ARE TOTALLY BUS GIRL! You are way hotter than he described you.”
Me: “Oh, uh thanks? I’m gonna go… uh nice meeting you?”

I run back down the hall and the Architect is awake.

Me: “Oh, hi. I met your roommate.”
Him: “Oh fuck. He’s a total douche. I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves, I hear whispering, and Architect comes back in.

Me: “Well thanks for last night, I’m gonna go.”
Him: “You aren’t still being weird about the whole age thing are you?”
Me, totally being weirded out by the age thing: “Oh! No, over it. I just have to go to work.”
Him: “Let me take you out to dinner. How’s tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at your work.”

I look around his room and see Beatles records and framed pictures of faraway places. I decide that I need to ignore the age thing and say yes.

Me: “Okay. tomorrow.” I grab my things and bolt out the door.

I’m telling my coworker, Cantwell, about the Architect the next day as we’re closing the store. As he’ s yelling at me to stop stressing over the age thing and get over it, the Architect walks in. I introduce him to Cantwell and leave them to chat as I grab my stuff to lock up. I’m turning out the lights when I hear Cantwell shriek, “YOU’RE TORAHDAD69?!!! TARA!!!!! OH MY GOD COME HERE RIGHT NOW”

Cantwell: “Remember I was telling you about my roommate who got matched up with Torahdad69 on OKcupid? And how she messaged him because it was such a random name and she had to know why someone would pick it?! THIS IS HIM!!!! You’ve been the best inside joke between me and my friends for like months! So, Torahdad69, tell me why you picked the name.”
Architect turned Torahdad69: “Um, well I’m Jewish and my friends all think I act like a Dad and I just picked a random number. Tara, you wanna get going?”
Me: “Um… right. Cantwell, I’ll talk to you later.”
Cantwell: “I can’t wait to tell my roommate I met Torahdad69. This is the best story ever.”

We walk in silence on the way to the restaurant. I’m not sure how I’m feeling. I’m still weirded out by the age thing, and now that I know Cantwell is on the phone laughing with his roommate about him, I’m ashamed to admit that I’m totally over it. The whole situation. Gone is the hot guy that threw me against the wall in the bar. The only thing I see now is a 21 year old “dad” and I can’t imagine ever kissing him again.

We have dinner and I pay because I’m feeling bad that I’m about to tell this kid, I mean guy, that I’m not interested. I’m mustering up the courage to break it off gently when he says, “So, I did some research. I googled Alf and watched a few episodes of MacGyver. And I have to say, both are terribly shitty shows. There is no way Macgyver could have done any of that with a bobby pin. I call bullshit. And Alf?! What kind of creature is it? I don’t understand. I much prefer MacGruber.”

Oh hellllll no. No one insults Macgyver. Ever.

Me: “Well, this has been an educational few days. Happy belated birthday and please don’t call me again. This obviously isn’t going to work out. I have to go be anywhere other than here. Um, okay thanks bye.”

Flash forward to today in 2015. I’m walking to my car after brunch and I’m digging around my bag to find my keys. I drop my purse and my water bottle rolls out. It rolls down the street and gets picked up by a guy in a sweater vest, glasses, and messenger bag.

Me: “Oh thanks!” I reach for the bottle.
Him: “You’re welcome. Wait. Do I know you?”
Me, staring at him: “Ummmm maybe?”
Him: “Yeah, you look really familiar.”
Me: “Oh shit. SHIT. You’re Torahdad69!”
Him, sighing” That was a terrible online life choice I made. I remember you! Are you still into role playing?”
Me: “Sorry, no that wasn’t me. We met on a bus and went out after your 21st birthday.”
Him: “Hmm, really? That chick was a hot mad-men curvy brunette.”
Me: “Yeah, that was me.”
Him: “No, that woman had a huge ass. Don’t get me wrong, you’re cute, but I remember her butt.”
Me: “Right, that ass is still behind me. Hasn’t changed. I’m gonna go. Glad to see you grew the fuck up.”
Him: “Hey are you single?”

Human Phil – Survived by Sarah

WHO: Human Phil. You might be thinking, “Aren’t all the guys you go on dates with humans, Sarah?” That point is actually debatable as I’m not totally sure they are all actually human beings, but you’ll find out why I have to specify that this guy was a human shortly.

WHAT: OKCupid date

WHEN: A few weeks ago

WHERE: The Hi-Life in Ballard, WA

WHY: Because of all the single. Sigh.


THE DATE
I first started talking to this guy on OKC like 5 months before we actually went on a date. To his credit, he continued to reach out to me every time I ghosted off the app. I had met Navy Guy (see previous blog post My Person) back in March and had an on and off thing with him for a few months. Every time Navy Guy ghosted me, I reluctantly re-downloaded all the stupid apps and started messaging people to keep myself from losing my shit.

So Human Phil was one of the guys I would randomly and sporadically message and he always replied. We didn’t have much deep conversation, but he seemed to have his shit together. His main profile photo didn’t really do anything for me, but some of the others seemed to be better photos and he seemed cute. His profile said he was 6’3” and since he kept responding after every disappearance I made, I kept him around in my message inbox.

So, shit finally ended with Navy Guy and ended badly. I hopped back on the dating train to keep myself from totally derailing emotionally, and Human Phil and I made a plan.

Now, the curious thing about online dating is that most of the apps don’t make you list your actual name. So unless you think about it ahead of time or they offer it up, you suddenly find yourself going on dates with people who you realize you don’t know how to address. Several times I’ve sent a text to someone like an hour before meeting them that says, “So this is really embarrassing but I just realized I don’t know what your name is.” Online dating is the worst.

So Human Phil’s name on OKC was c5run. I had no idea until morning of our date what this guy’s name was. I know it seems weird to not have asked, but it’s just something that slips your mind when all you’re doing is typing to people. They don’t even seem like real people anyway until you meet them. The morning of our date, he sends me a message asking if we are still on for that evening. He also mentions he never caught my name and says his is Phil.

This might seem shallow and lame, but I was immediately turned off. My cat is named Phil.

If you’ve never seen the show Modern Family, you’re really missing out. There is a character named Phil who I have long said I want to find a real-life version of to end up with. There’s an episode where Phil and his family go to a dude ranch and he dubs himself Buffalo Phil, which is what I named my cat. I’ve had said cat for about 4 years and was not looking forward to dating someone with the same name. That just feels creepy. That’s like a level of crazy cat lady you can’t recover from.

Human Phil lived downtown but said he loves Ballard and agreed to meet me in my neighborhood. I picked a restaurant that s inside an old firehouse and has a decent happy hour, and reluctantly drug myself onto the bus to go meet him there. I wasn’t really feeling excited and it was a Sunday evening and I was tired. Monday was coming and I had things I needed to get done.

Human Phil was much more attractive in person than in his photos, which rarely happens. We had decent conversation and hung out for over 2 hours. He was from Arizona and had moved here two years earlier. Bla bla bla. None of it was particularly memorable, but it wasn’t awful. It was mildly enjoyable.

At one point he told me about his dog and said, “I’m a really bad pet owner,” and I was immediately turned off. You should never be that and you should never tell someone that.

We had some appetizers and beers and he paid for everything which was a nice change. We exchanged phone numbers and made tentative plans for the following week. When we walked outside, he gave me a hug and kind of tilted side to side as he hugged me and said LOUDLY in my ear, “IT WAS NICE TO MEET YOU SARAH!!”  

After our first date I wasn’t totally sure I felt like dating this guy, but at least he wasn’t terrible. For our second date, he suggested a place in Fremont and I headed over there after yoga. I texted him to let him know I was running about 5 minutes late, but he didn’t respond. I walked as fast as my little long legs could carry me, and saw him getting off the bus about 30 seconds before I walked inside.

Yes, I was late. But at least I made the effort to let him know I was going to be late. He didn’t seem to feel that was necessary on his part. It rubbed me the wrong way for some reason. I should have taken it as an omen.

I had been basically sprint-walking for several minutes in the very hot sun, and the restaurant was really stuffy inside so the sweats came on. What a good look. It was extremely crowded for a Thursday night so we sat at the bar while we waited for a table. I was dying of thirst but Human Phil wouldn’t stop blathering on about one thing or another. After 20 minutes I was finally able to break in and say I was going to go order a beer. He looked miffed and stood off to the side so I could order.

I asked what he wanted, and Human Phil said, “Oh, nothing. I can wait until we get a table.”

Um, ok.

I asked if he wanted some water, and again Human Phil said, “No, I can wait until we get a table.”

I was growing more annoyed by the second.

We finally got a table and about 2 minutes after we sat down, someone announced that trivia would be starting in about 15 minutes. I’m not sure if you’ve ever tried to have a conversation while trivia is going on in the same room, but it’s near impossible. You just end up silently sitting there listening to the questions and whispering the answers to each other even though you aren’t playing.

So that’s what we did. We had lame conversation until trivia started, and then we listened to trivia until we left. Everything he said was annoying me. The things about him I’d found interesting on our first date had dissolved. We had discussed bus lines on our first date, going over in detail which routes and which stops are the worst. We somehow did this again on our second date. It wasn’t even an interesting conversation the first time around, so why it was being revisited again was beyond me.

I jokingly said, “We already talked about this last time. I guess we have nothing left to talk about.” But I was only 1% joking and 99% serious.

Once trivia started, I was relieved not to have to talk to him anymore. Which worked out well because he got far more annoying. Turns out he is a know-it-all who has to be right. Every question they asked he would tell me my answer was wrong and his was right and then whenever he was right he would point at me and say, “I told you.”

I find super competitive people to be a total turnoff. I am not competitive at all and losing at something doesn’t really bother me. There’s a lot more I couldn’t probably tell you about this guy, but what’s the point. So I mentally checked out and ate my food quicker so I could leave  sooner.

We split the bill and headed outside. Someone must have been looking out for me, because his bus was pulling up right as we walked outside. He hugged me and I was like, “Go or you’ll miss your bus! Bye!” He ran across the street and I happily listened to a comedy podcast to help me get back to a non-annoyed place while waiting for my bus. He texted me half an hour later, “Got it!” I waited until the next day and wrote back, “Nice.” And we never spoke again.

I like cat Phil a lot better anyway.

Peter – Survived by Sarah

WHO: Peter

WHAT: OkCupid date

WHEN: July 17th, 2015

WHERE: Summit Public House, Capitol Hill WA

WHY: Because I had decided OkCupid was officially the least worst dating app. And this guy’s profile was pretty funny. And funny has never steered me wrong before…oh wait…

THE DATE
This guy had made plans with me two weeks ahead of time, which is some impressive dedication. I can barely plan what I’m having for dinner tonight, let alone plan to get a beer with someone in two weeks. But his profile was well-crafted and he seemed to be non-creepy. And luckily he checked in a couple days before said beer-getting to remind me.

I didn’t want to go, but I am one to keep my commitments. Even when I don’t feel like it. Like, at all.

I’d been on a wildly successful date two nights earlier, and I had plans the following week to see that guy again. So I didn’t feel like going on a first date I could already feel was going to suck. But I went anyway because I didn’t have anything better to do. I had been debating with my co-worker earlier in the day about this guy’s photos. Every single one looked like a completely different human being, so I was incredibly unsure of what he looked like.

I had my aunt and uncle’s car for a few days, so I fortunately got to drive myself to this weird place this Peter guy had picked. I ground my way through traffic and got there right on time. I texted him to let him know I was there, and he said he was “200 seconds” away. I liked that response and wrote back, “That’s accurate timing.” Maybe I would like him after all.

Wrong.

This guy strolls in and looks less than zero percent like any of his photos. One of his photos showed him as a surfer blonde who was sort of balding but looked really laid back, one showed him with a giant head of luscious jet black hair and super pale skin looking like a 12 year old, and so on. None of them prepared me for who walked in.

Peter’s profile said he was 32, but the person that walked up to me looked to be about 45. He looked like one of those 40 somethings who is trying to still keep a stranglehold on his youth but failing. He was wearing these big plastic glasses and I couldn’t tell if they were supposed to be hipstery, ironic, or just stupid. He had on a button-up shirt that was checkered, but all the checkers were clown colors like bright orange and red and yellow. It was overwhelming my retinas. And then this shirt was tucked into full-on dad jeans with a leather belt. Like the bad jeans Obama wore that time he threw that baseball pitch. And on his feet were hi-top Converse that were the ugliest color I have ever seen in my life. They were like baby diarrhea brown.

It was an intense ensemble.

He walked over to me and at first I sort of recoiled. Since he looked like none of his photos, I thought he was some rando coming over to talk to me. As I was getting ready to say I was meeting someone, he stuck his hand out and said really over-enthusiastically, “Hi, I’m Peter! Nice to meet you!”

Since his name and arrival time seemed to line up with who I thought I was meeting, I assumed this was the same person. I wanted to leave immediately, but I shook his hand and we walked over to the bar to get a drink
Peter: “Wow, you’re tall.”
Me: “Yep.”
Peter: “Like, really tall.”
Me: “Um, I know that.”

Silence.

Me: “Thanks?”
Him: “You’ve been working on that your whole life?”
Me: “Um, well I stopped growing in like 8th grade. So no.”

A word of advice to humans in general: don’t tell tall people they’re tall. They totally already know.

Peter plunked down his card for both our beers and told the bartender to open a tab. Poor guy, he really thought I would be staying for another drink. I thanked him and said he didn’t have to pay for me, but he insisted. Which was nice, I’ll give him that.

He was a nice person. He didn’t seem like a total creepy weirdo like some others I’ve met. He had a job, he seemed to have friends, and he definitely had a personality. But it was that third thing that I wasn’t too keen on.

He was friendly and outgoing, but in an almost abrasive way. To his credit, there wasn’t much awkward silence during our date. But all the talking wasn’t necessarily good.

Everything he told me was boring as fuck. And I don’t say that lightly.

He had written on his profile that his office allows dogs. There was a group of adorable dogs at the bar we were at, so I mentioned the office dogs. Peter then launched into a significantly long lecture about said dogs.

He told me the name of every dog that comes into his office.

He told me the names of every dog’s “mom and dad” who bring each dog to the office.

He told me THE WEEKLY SCHEDULE of every dog that comes in. What days, how long they stay, etc.

No, I am not joking.

He told me THE HYGIENE OF EVERY DOG that comes into his office.

And this was only like 10 minutes in.

He told me he had only been at his job for two months and that he had spent much of the week just doing math.

If there is one thing that can make a conversation totally thrilling when you first meet someone, it’s definitely going into detail about all the math you did that week.

I promise I’m not just being a judgemental wench, this guy was boring as shit. And it was a weird juxtaposition to how loud his shirt was and how exuberantly he talked. He even had a really animated face, sort of like a Wallace and Gromit claymation character. But unfortunately none of that could overcome the boring.

He was from Kansas. Spoiler alert: all his stories about Kansas were boring.

Largest ball of twine? Boring.

Super flat and nothing to do? Boring.

The Royals aren’t in Kansas? No one cares, except Paul Rudd. He loves the Royals.

Kansas is better than Missouri? Whatever. And is it? Is it really? They both sound boring.

I mentioned I had just seen Wicked and asked if there was any Wizard of Oz stuff in Kansas. He very seriously said, “The Wizard of Oz has NOTHING to do with Kansas.”

I calmly pointed out that, while I was aware it was likely not actually filmed in Kansas, every part of the movie that isn’t in Oz TAKES PLACE IN KANSAS. I told him that I meant is there any touristy Wizard of Oz stuff, because that seems like a thing they would have. He said no.

Fine. Whatever. I literally couldn’t care less.

I was barely able to contain myself every time he launched into a new topic. I kept rolling my eyes every time I took a sip of my beer and facepalming myself.

We briefly discussed how easy it is for people on the internet to get irate and rant about things and attack people because it’s anonymous. He informed me that he spends a lot of time doing that on board game forums.

Let that just settle into your brain for a hot second.

Yes, board game forums. He told me that’s what he spends most of his free time doing. He rants and raves at people on BOARD GAME FORUMS.

After a Liz Lemon-worthy eye roll, I asked him which games he is on forums for.

Him: “There are literally tens of thousands of board games.”
Me: “Ok, but which one? Like Monopoly?”
Him: “Yes, Monopoly is a board game.”
Me, stifling my raging hatred of him: “Yes, I know that. Which games do you go on forums about?”
Him: “I guess mostly math games.”

Oh, brother.

I’m so sorry if you thought this story was ever going to get interesting, because it doesn’t.

Him: “You know how you can play chess against a computer?”
Me: “Um, yes.”
Him: “Well there are other games you can play against a computer.”
Me: “….”
Him: “Well there’s this math game that performs at a level higher than the smartest human bla bla bla I can’t remember what else he actually said because I was too busy rolling my eyes.”
Me: “…cool?”
Him: “Bla bla math games etcetera. And one time I spent 3 hours playing checkers online against someone simply because we were in a stalemate and the other guy refused to forfeit so I did too.”
Me: *staring at a dog nearby*
Him: “Then I went and anonymously talked shit on him on the forums.”
Me: *I wonder if that dog has as involved a schedule as those office dogs.*
Him: “So that’s how I spend a lot of my free time.”

I kept yawning, and he still kept talking. At some point he went to the bathroom and I texted Tara, “OMG HELP HE IS SO FUCKING BORING.”

Our drinks had been empty for like 20 minutes and I hadn’t been able to make an exit. Finally there was a brief pause and I was able to say, “I hope this isn’t rude, but I’m really tired. I had a long day at work and have to get up early tomorrow, so I think I’m going to go. Sorry.”

He looked sort of surprised, which is shocking because I don’t know how he could have thought things were going well.

I said, “It was nice to meet you,” and gave him a hug because I’m too nice to tell him he bored me almost to tears and it really wasn’t that nice meeting him.
He said, “Well, you have my number so text me when you want to hang again.”

I nodded and walked away.

Two days later, after I’d blocked him on the app we met on and deleted his number from my phone, he texted me. I deleted it again because it was still boring. Sorry, guy.

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?”

The Teriyaki Guy – Survived by Alexis (Guest Post)

Note from Sarah: Alexis is my upstairs neighbor. She has an awesome boyfriend now who is also my upstairs neighbor, but before she met him she was in the same boat as Tara and I. Isn’t it nice to know that some things like online dating never change and will always remain awful?

WHO: Teriyaki guy

WHAT: OkCupid date

WHEN: 2009? I was 20… or maybe 19

WHERE: Bellevue/Redmond WA

WHY: I was lonely and wanted “experience”

 

THE DATE
Disclaimer: I love food.

I guess you could call me a closet foodie. I am a fat kid on the inside and I love flavorful food. Since 2008 I’ve become a hobby baker and an experienced home cook. I once made 100 dozen cookies for a Christmas party for my mom, which made me realize how much I LOVE baking and that I am damn good at it. Yep. I make and eat lots of good, high-quality food.

So, I met this guy on OkCupid. I had been on a few dates from this website and had gotten the idea that dudes only use it for sex. I had only been sexually active for a few years, so I was still exploring. Several times I’d been shut down for trying to take my OkCupid dates to the next relationship level.

How naive.

So I finally decided I was no longer opposed to using the site the way guys were.

Teriyaki guy was hot and I definitely wanted to used him for ‘experience.’ He immediately asked for my phone number and I gave it to him. We’d talked from 11-1am multiple nights in a row. I loved that he just wanted to spend time talking to me, that he made me laugh very hard, and I felt like we really got each other.

I suggested we meet each other, but he lived all the way on the East side. He worked at the Costco over there and not at corporate, which should have been a tip off. Costco pays well and has great benefits, but it’s a meh job and he seemed pretty content. No interest in moving on eventually.

Regardless, whatever he did sounded boring. I’ve always been ambitious, even if I fail and make a fool of myself in the process. I keep my expectations high and always strive to be better.

I felt pretty comfortable with Teriyaki guy, so we decided to meet at his place in Bellevue, 30 minutes away from my house.

Really smart, I know.

I showed up at his place and he immediately led me to his “room,” which was more like a converted living room with French doors separating it from the rest of the house. He only had two pieces of furniture: a mattress on the floor and a dresser. He said he had just been burned badly from a girl he met online. He said things had moved too fast with her, so he just wanted to take things slow with me.

Well I didn’t want slow. He was hotter in person than in his photos, and he was ripped. I wanted to make out.

But I was also really hungry. He suggested we go get food since he only had Pop-Tarts, and he wanted to save those for breakfast. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted a Pop-Tart, but I was more excited to leave his house. I was also really excited to go to a sit-down restaurant and do the date thing.

But instead he drove us to a nearby teriyaki place.

Ok, totally not what I was wanting, but he was really bossy and insistent about it. I ordered first and got regular teriyaki (duh) and paid for myself.

This guy ordered teriyaki WITHOUT THE SAUCE.

In case you are not aware, you cannot order teriyaki without the sauce as the sauce is the only thing that is teriyaki. Without the teriyaki, you are just ordering plain dry meat.

But naive Alexis plowed on. We grabbed the food and went back to his house. On the way I asked about the no sauce thing, and he said that’s the way he likes it. He told me he didn’t really care about food and if he didn’t have to eat again in his entire life he wouldn’t mind. He said he sees eating as a chore and a waste of his time.

WTF.

We ate on his floor bed and had a good makeout session, despite his comments about food. Shortly after that he said he “didn’t feel the chemistry,” and since he was obviously still butt hurt about the last online chick I left. He said we should hang out again and maybe go bowling because it would be a good “friend activity.”

I said ok and thankfully never talked to him again, even though I still don’t understand how he didn’t feel the chemistry between us. Looking back, maybe he was just using me because he was lonely too and needed someone to talk him to sleep at night.

But in the end, who cares? HE EATS HIS TERIYAKI PLAIN.

The Pringles Guy – Survived by Tara

WHO: A medium-height guy with arms, legs, and a full head of hair. That’s all I rememeber. Probably cute? Doesn’t matter at this point.

WHAT: OkCupid

WHEN: A few years ago..it’s hazy.

WHERE: Madrone! Amazing spot in the Nopa/Lower Haight ‘hood. They’ve got a deer head on the wall with shotguns instead of antlers. My kind of spot. Also, they have a cucumber cocktail that is one of my favorite things to drink ever. The end.

WHY: The defining factor of this gentleman was the fact that he liked to dance. He mentioned Motown Monday in our emails and said he thought we should grab a drink and get our dance on. It has been near impossible for me to date a guy that likes to dance, so I said yes REAL quick.
THE DATE
At the time, I lived about a 5 min walk from Madrone. We decided to meet in front and as I crossed the street, a normal-looking dude wearing a giant puffy jacket smiled at me.

Jacket: “Tara?”
Me: “Hiya!” (Hug) “Shall we go grab a drink?”
Jacket: “Yeah! This place makes a great Vodka on the rocks.”
Me: “Huh, okay?”

We sit at the bar and I take off my coat, order the amazing cucumber drink rather than a vodka, and start the interview…I mean date. He’s from So Cal. He’s got a family. He has a job. Blah blah blah. I realize that I’m a little bored and that he hasn’t taken off his jacket. It’s warm inside, and the DJ just starts throwing down some jamz. It’s getting harder to hear my date and I really can’t figure out why he is still wearing a down jacket.

Me: “Wanna put your coat with mine?”
Him: “What? You wanna glass of wine?”
Me: “No, DO YOU WANT TO PUT YOUR COAT WITH MINE?”
Him: “Nah, I’m okay. Let’s dance.”

He grabs my hand and we head out onto the dance floor. It’s packed and after a few songs I’m sweaty and I can only imagine he should be too. He’s still wearing that giant jacket.

“OH THIS IS MY JAM!” he yells when some oldies song comes on. He unzips his jacket and does a slide step away from me. He reaches behind him and looks like he’s trying to tuck in his shirt. He pulls out TWO PRINGLES CANS. AND HE STARTS SHAKING THEM.

“EXTREME BBQ PRINGLES! EXTREME!” He starts shaking them in front of me like maracas, pops them open and starts eating them, handing them out to strangers on the dance floor. I eat a few and they are, in fact, EXTREME. But I can’t get over where he had them hiding. I cozy up to him wondering weirdly if there were more. AND THERE WERE. HE HAD ANOTHER CAN TUCKED INTO HIS BELT.

At least this date fed me.