Date Stats
My Outfit: Short black and pink cotton sundress, black flip flops
His Outfit: Jeans and a T-Shirt
Day: Wednesday
Time: 8.00pm-9.30pm
Overall Rating: 1/10
After a never-ending string of finance guys talking at me about stocks and mergers, I decided to shake it up. One of the Tinders I was chatting to was a medical student. He had a topless photo (in the least aggressive way possible… he was on a hike, takin’ it all in with a ‘gee getta loada this view’ sort of look on his face) and I noted that he had an amazing body. Also, he was enthusiastic about nature (a good thing I suppose…?)
In the build up to our date we were texting back and forth quite a bit and he was absolutely hilarious. He said really offbeat, weird things that made him seem funny and a little wild. I was really excited to meet him.
I was, however, mildly put off by his suggestion of meeting at Wood and Ales, a grim looking pub on 14th and 8th (a depressing dead zone that I struggle to call Chelsea) but I figured that he was on a med school budget and couldn’t afford to go anywhere nice… where are the finance guys when you need them?
Pointedly, I put on a ‘casual’ outfit and walked over. From outside it looked like a cheesy tourist venue that lures in customers with bright colours and false promise. The inside was dingy with fluorescent lighting, horrible Irish music playing disproportionately loudly to the three customers sitting dejectedly around the bar and there was beer all over the floor and tables.
Med Student was already there, sitting at a table with a beer. He was even more attractive in person but I was so annoyed by my surroundings that I only noticed this begrudgingly. We shared awkward hellos that I could barely hear over the Irish jigging and I sat down. He didn’t offer me a drink so after a stony silence I said, ‘Well, I’m just going to get myself a drink’. Perhaps remembering that he was on a date and not in the student halls he suddenly leapt up and took my order.
I told him I’d like a glass of wine then tried to ‘smile sweetly’ (but probably glared maliciously) and asked if he wouldn’t mind telling the bartender to turn the music down. He looked a bit taken aback, as though he hadn’t even noticed the loud and terrible Irish music (HOW?)
If I’m going to spend an evening sitting in puddles of old beer, I draw the line at concurrently becoming deaf at the hands of an Irish jig.
There was decided tension when he came back to the table with my wine. Clearly he was not the type of person who asks bartenders to turn the music down and clearly I was not the sort of person who enjoys sitting in puddles of beer. We had zero chemistry (despite his very nice biceps) and all I wanted to do was go back home and watch Netflix.
So began an arduous game of ‘who can small talk the longest’. I’m very competitive but it was hard to win with Med Student who was putting up a great fight, small-talking my ear off about his subway commute.
We both finished our drinks and it was clear that neither of us were enjoying each others company but a sense of dating-etiquette-awareness and a fear of social awkwardness lead us to order another drink.
With the second drink came a more blatant dislike for each other. He started to tell me a story that began, ‘So you know when you’re out and you start a dance circle with your buddies…?’
After staring at him for a moment I said, ‘No, I have literally never started a dance circle. I would be mortified.’
He glared at me and I glared at him and together we threw hate at each other with our minds.
He then said, ‘Yeah, well, my buddy is bad at talking to women so we start dance circles to help him hit on hot girls’.
I can’t even…
I downed my wine and said, ‘Shall we?’.
As we walked to the subway station he told me all about the various subways he planned to take home and then we stood awkwardly outside the station for a brief second before he tapped my arm and said, ‘Well… we should do this again sometime’.
The tap-arm-and-express-false-intentions-to-hangout-again is MY ‘see you never’ move, buddy.
I said, ‘Yeah definitely, that would be great’.
Finance guys, I’m sorry I doubted you.
Tinderella 