Un-Date Action

While I was grabbing coffee before class, a cute enough, well built guy came up to me. We chatted a little and I gave him my number. He seemed normal enough. He called and we organized to meet up at the grad students’ lounge and head to a party the following Wednesday. I don’t like house parties but I figured I’d try to be open minded. And birthday parties are always kind of festive, right?

When I arrived at the lounge, he was sitting by the fire. Half asleep. Lovely. He woke up and proceeded to pound three beers (to my one glass of white wine) and then insisted we do Jager Bombs. Then he began a monologue about industrial music. For the record, I am a slummy hipster. I don’t like industrial.

After texting incessantly while we sat there for about an hour, he announced that we had to leave for the party NOW. We rushed into a cab and headed off. He stopped at a liquor store, and asked me to pitch in for booze because he was “broke.” Perfect. Then, after some detours, we finally found the house (he’d copied the address down wrong). At that point, he realized he did not have enough money to pay for the cab.

I paid and tried to remain optimistic. I realized that we were in an icky part of town that I did not know well but still I was ready to party. We entered the house and there were a grand total of four people there. They were trashed and wanted snacks. So my “date” and the two girls left for the store, leaving me there with the host, who regaled me with tales of his recovery from meth addiction and his former penchant for visiting prostitutes.

When the others got back, I escaped to the restroom and texted eight different friends telling them to call me and pretend to be my roommate. My friend A graciously obliged and informed me that our pipes had burst. You see, since she was not good in a crisis, I had to go to her. I got in a cab and got the hell out.

But before I did that my companion for the evening walked me out to the cab.

“Is this a date?” he asked.

“No, it’s not,” I replied affirmatively.

He proceeded to assure me that he would call again.

My response?

“I wouldn’t.”

April 2nd, 2009 in Cheap Bastards, Drunk and Disorderly, Un-date Log, Why Didn't I Say Something?, WTF?

Comments (4)

airica angelJuly 31st, 2009 at 1:29 pm

a. this wasn’t a date. you made no date plans. you asked him to meet you somewhere and then accepted a party invitation.
b. since it wasn’t a date, why wouldn’t he ask you to chip in? perhaps since you hadn’t agreed to or referred to it as a date from the beginning, he just thought you wanted to hang out.
c. why didn’t you tell him you didn’t like parties? don’t agree to go somewhere then complain because you went. if you agreed to go to a party, it stands to reason he thought you’d enjoy being there, getting stoned, and drinking, like people do at parties.
d. did you tell him you don’t like industrial, or just sit there whining in your head because its not your type of music?
e. he isn’t responsible for the conversational choice of others. get up and walk away.
f. if he had to ask if it was a date, it means you didn’t make it clear to him what your intentions were. “let’s hang out at the lounge and hit a party” is not making a date. it’s hanging out.
g. instead of calling your friends and lying, you could have told him you just weren’t having a good time. i’m willing to bet he would have apologized or offered to take you somewhere else. if he was that much of a jerk, he wouldn’t have walked you to the cab, or asked whether or not it was a date. he wouldn’t have cared.
h. you just sound like a shallow ditz.

MichelleAugust 17th, 2009 at 2:09 pm

i. And the above commenter sounds like he likes industrial

Communication is a two way road. Sometimes people get shocked into silence. Being in a seedy side of town next to a former meth addict doesn’t actively loosen the lips. Also, not everyone get stoned and drink “like people do at parties.” Some just visit. Others have only dinner.