I was at the bar, because that’s usually where I am, and I was on a date when I realized, oh, look, isn’t the person standing next to me that guy I went on a date with last year? You know, the one who showed up wasted, then got more wasted, and as I was nursing my first drink, he told me he loved me and we should be together forever, but he was still too wasted to even…make out. Yeah. That guy. He’s standing right next to me. He probably knows I’m here. He’s probably standing right there for a fucking reason. Because he knows I’ll see him standing there, eventually, and what he wants to know is: will I stop talking to my date to say hi to him? I don’t. But my date goes to the bathroom, so you know what time it is. Time for this guy to sit down in my date’s chair (how fucking brazen) and act like he hadn’t seen me sitting right there. Cool move, dude. So we chop it up. I’m cordial. It’s a bar. NBD. My date comes back. This guy makes a big deal about, “Oh, sorry, I’m in your seat” and then he chats it up with my date, too, which is, like, whatever, okay, you’re really trying to cool guy my date right now, so I shoo him away after what feels like a polite amount of time so I can continue my date with a man who is not so drunk that I’m uncomfortable to be seen with him in public. Y’know. Unlike that other guy. Eventually, it’s time to go, so I go to the bathroom and my date waits for me outside. As I go to the bathroom, I see some other random guy I went on a date with last year (same time, different guy), wave hi and dash to the bathroom because I have to pee, okay. When I go outside, that guy is talking to my date and another person I’ve never seen before. I’m ready to go, but that guy blocks my date, turns to me, and proceeds to tell me that he’d been thinking about me, and he’d been thinking about calling me. “But you didn’t,” I respond matter of factly. To which that guy responds, “Oh, I can see you’re on a date now, I should have called you.” Like I make my dating decisions on a first come, first serve basis. I don’t. “So, like, what would happen if I called you?” he asks, to which I respond, “TBD” which in retrospect probably wasn’t what I should have said. I should have just laughed in his face but I didn’t feel like putting that much energy into the conversation so instead I said, “We’re leaving,” and abruptly booked it down the block until my date catches up because what kind of brazen bull shit was that? Like, dude, hello, we’re in our 30s, that whole ‘Imma steal your date’ thing is pretty fucking tacky, and that’s coming from a woman who mastered that art ten years ago. I know from doing that time and time again exactly how tacky that is. I know exactly the type of person who can get stolen off their date: a disloyal one. I don’t wanna be around disloyal people. I don’t want to be a disloyal person. I have too much self respect to be like that (nowadays). So I hoof it over to Ruby Room, where I lose very badly at pool while also having a good time, et cetera, et cetera, and the next day I wake up to a text message from that random guy who was DJing that reads something like ‘Good to see you last night. I can tell you don’t really like me.’ Like, what the fuck is this shit? Did God run out of self respect when he was making 90% of the men out there? I didn’t even fuck either of those dudes. Could you imagine what would have happened if I did? Oh, the fuckery that would have ensured. Thank god I’m a better judge of character these days than I was when I was in my 20s. Cuz, Jesus Christ, guys, calm the fuck down. If I didn’t fuck you then, I’m not going to fuck you now, and it’s not a judgment of your personality and your worth as a human being, it’s just that I wasn’t into it, and that’s it. Sucks for you that you missed my slutty phase, although, nah, that’s probably for the best because I was dealing with some really misandrist attitudes back then that resulted in me experimenting with cruelty in my romantic relationships, and you know already a lot of people got their feelings hurt. Things are much better this way. I’ve learned how to be an adult about this whole dating thing. So can you please stop punishing me for that?
Published by ablogaboutthedevil