App: OkCupid

Name: Derek*

Date Location: Swanky bar in Herald Square known for its well-crafted cocktails

Location Review: 3.5 Stars-Nothing too too amazing considering the prices

Date Duration: 1 hour

What Happened:

Prior to our date I was on the fence about Derek. To start, after he had asked me for my number on the app he called me almost immediately. Sir, I don’t know you. Don’t call me. I chalked it up to a new experience and maybe it’s just a quirky thing. We texted the whole weekend, he seemed normal, and we went out for drinks later that week.

When I arrived at the bar, I kept looking up at every guy who walked by. Then a young man walked up to me and it was clear that he was my date. Now, I understand with online dating things get hairy when it comes to meeting in person. Some people look like their photos, some not so much. He fell into the latter category. Just overall, not my jam. But I thought, “Hey, Laura you’re being a judgmental asshole. Stop being a bitch, this guy could be fucking fantastic, and get your ass inside.”

We took the 2 seats at the end of the bar with him being on the outside. He worked in advertising, was born and raised in Queens, and was the founding father of his college’s fraternity. Despite looking good on paper, within about 10 minutes I was already done. To start, he had a voice which gave the “I live with my mom” vibe. Then, he kept touching me constantly and put his arm up as to almost block me into my seat so I couldn’t leave. He kept scooching closer to the point I was sitting on the woman in the next seat over. Then, he makes an awkward joke about us not only dating in the future but getting married.

But what sealed the deal was a conversation about ice cream. He asked what my favorite was, I asked him his, and then he proceeded to shit on my flavor. So much to the point that when he got up to go to the bathroom he said I needed to “think about what I had done”.

No. Just no. Upon his return I scooted out so fast as he asked when the next time he’d see me again would be. Because I’m an asshole I left it at “We’ll figure it out”. As soon as I got back to my apartment I deleted our chat and blocked his number. …after sending “the text”*. Not my proudest moment.

You win some. You lose some. Rack em up, let’s play again.

*The Text: The message you send after a date that went poorly or to end things with someone you went out with a few times. Messages can range from “It’s not you, it’s me”, “I’m just so busy right now…”, “I need to work things out with my ex”, and “I think you’re a serial killer”.