Something happened a few weeks ago. I’m not proud, but in the interest of total candor, I’m going to tell you about it anyway.
I got super drunk.
But that’s not the part that causes some shame.
In my drunken state, I met, made out with, and accepted a date with someone who was not at all my type.
And then I forgot his name and had to ask my friend the next day. I also had to ask him where I left my dignity.
But at that point, I had already accepted a date with this somewhat unknown person whom I didn’t actually remember, and I’m either incredibly stupid or true to my word, so I went.
On this date, I didn’t disclose the fact that I had forgotten this person’s name, but I was very honest about the rest of it: which was that I didn’t remember anything else about him. He seemed fine with this. Which seemed odd to me. But, whatever. So we had dinner, and it was relatively painless. He told me about himself and let me know that he was some kind of environmental professional, which is fine for him, but all I could think was, “Oh no. We have nothing in common.” Not that I don’t love the planet or whatever, and I recycle when it’s convenient for me, but I don’t love the planet, you know???
Also, he had a beard. And rode a bike. And loved camping. And didn’t eat meat. In my mind, these things qualify him to be a hipster. But what do I know? And let me be clear that I don’t have anything against hipsters, per se, but they’re just not generally the type of guy I go for. So.
We had the dinner and that was fine, and as I said, he was super nice. Then a couple days later, I received a follow-up text. So nice, right?! How was my week going and would I like to grab a drink later? Well, I was not available “later,” so the next day was proposed. I agreed. To be honest, I’m not sure why because I knew at this point that he wasn’t for me, but since he was such a nice guy, it seemed like the right thing to do.
The next day–date #2 day, just 3 days after date #1 day–he texted to propose 2 date ideas. Acoustic show or comedy club. I was mortified. This was like a real date. With plans and times and tickets and pressure. My co-worker had to talk me down. Now, if I had been into the guy, I might have been more into the whole real date thing, but as I said, he wasn’t my type. Still, I didn’t want to be rude and bail, so I agreed to the acoustic show and told myself it would be ok.
And it was! I had fun with said vegster! But I could tell he was pretty into me, and I . . . as much as I wanted to like such a nice guy . . . just wasn’t feeling it.
So I went home thinking that was the end of it for me and that I would have to tell him so. But the next day he texted wanting to go out that weekend. We’re going on 3 dates in one week!!! Commence next freak out/talking down cycle. I explained to my wonderful, patient coworker that I wasn’t interested in him, even though he was very nice, and didn’t think I should go. But he said it was fine to go and hang out, I just needed to tell him that he was coming on too strong with the 3 dates in one week, and I wasn’t ready for a relationship (all true facts).
Now, I still question whether or not date #2 or date #3 were a good idea because, really, if you know you’re not interested after date #1, you probably should not go on more dates. But I was trying to give the sweet vegster a chance! However, I realize date #3 was probably a horrible idea.
Anyway, I went. Date #3 was a long one. There was a very tiny car and a trip to the zoo and a lovely patio dinner and drinks on a rooftop deck. Serious date. Which, if it’s going well, is a great thing. But if it’s only going well for one person, gets somewhat uncomfortable. To shorten up an already long story, I chickened out and did not tell vegster that I wasn’t into him.
A week passed. No texts or calls or date invitations. Granted, he knew I was traveling for work, but still. I thought I might be in the clear. But then, a date invitation via text. It was time to shut it down. And, true to form, he was perfectly understanding and nice about it.
So why did I go out with this perfectly nice person several times when I knew I wasn’t interested? Was I just being nice? Avoiding confrontation? Trying to let myself like the nice guy? I’ve no idea.
That, my friends, concludes this edition of Melissa’s adventures in dating.