8:22 pm: I try the roll. The avacado falls out of my mouth. He laughs. I feel something on my face. Yep, that’s soy sauce. I ask him if I still have soy sauce on my face. I wipe my face, feeling something wet.
9:20 pm: I stand to go to the bathroom. Did i mention there are white tablecloths at this restaurant? There are. I get up, taking the table cloth and my water with me. Water glass down. The table is soaked. He laughs. I run away.
9:24 pm: I come back, the table cloth/my chair is too wet to sit down. He makes a joke bout me making a scene. I leave without sitting again.
Honestly this is the only really entertaining part of the date. I think I was more worried about having a nervous reaction to shellfish than what would happen on the actual date part of the date.
I don’t want to bore you with the rest of the details. We ended up getting a night cap at another bar, which is almost ALWAYS a good idea on a Tuesday evening. And that’s all she wrote. To be continued…?
Full disclosure: this date was not a result of Bumble. I chose the restaurant because it has 65 craft beers on tap or something ridiculous. Do i like craft beers? No. Did that sway my decision? You bet your ass not. Is this just drinks or dinner? No idea. Timeline below:
Answer: “The Prisoner of Azkaban
6:45pm: I eat a full italian dinner because i’m not sure if this date is drinks or dinner so idk wtf i’ll be eating.
7:03 pm: He is running late. I’m standing in the restaurant. Do i order a drink? No i’m awkward and weird so I stand there on my phone.
7:07 pm: We get a table, thank god I didn’t get a drink or else he wouldn’t know what to do.
7:10 pm: installment loans – Ohio I ask the waitress what her “favorite” is… she replies “favorite what?” I have no answer so the boy says “draft beer.” There are 65. She probably suggests the most expensive one. We order 2.
7:12 pm: We stare at our menus. Both of us are looking at them but not reading them. I realize i’m not reading, just waiting for him to decide. It takes us 15 minutes to decide to order chicken on a stick and “pork belly tacos.” Such a lady, very romantic.
8:45-9:45 pm: I pee twice from chugging pints of beer. I don’t remember what we talked about because I had to pee so badly the whole time.
9:50 pm: We go down to the T. He is going downtown, I am going uptown. A decision is about to be made as we stand in between platforms.
pm: He told me he had a great time and wants to see me again so I chalk it up as a successful date.
It is my hope that you read this blog and learn from my awkward encounters with the opposite sex primarily by way of Bumble dates. At the very least you can treat this as an example of what not to do when meeting strangers (Hi mom and dad, shout outs to the general rule of childhood about not talking to strangers).
Last week, two boys randomly reached out to me about taking me out for drinks/dinner. Naturally I said yes to both and now I have a date tonight and one tomorrow due to scheduling issues. Both are in Southie. Good idea! ). Whatever appeases my conscience. Here goes nothing… #prayforme
How did this guy wind up in scenario where his roommate was a nerd rope addict? And how bad was this said addiction? There a big difference between finding 2 nerds in your carpet after halloween versus finding double digits of nerds in your carpet daily in the middle of the Spring. I need more information for this to not seem as fucking random and weird as I think it is.
Ok, now back to the purpose of my story – I’m showing these cringe-worthy drunk texts to a friend and I make the crucial mistake of handing him my entire phone. He starts scrollin and laughin, laughin and scrollin, and as you may be able to guess from bullet number 2, an audio message of a man’s laugh (my dear friend) is sent to this poor soul who made the mistake of drunk texting me. I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna not show my friends. I can’t handle these requests to grind at Ned Divines alone… I’m just a kid.
Although the Spanish boy in question did not make a move, he did Facebook IM me the next day, asking if he could bring me back a present from Morocco after he visits his mother. I tell him no. He doesn’t understand. This is the end of my Spanish romance. See screenshot below for further details.
9:00 pm: The Celts win. Everyone is happy. We hug. Didn’t get on the kiss cam. Pretty bitter about it.
Although it may seem like I’m starting out as a “player” I feel like they’re probably doing the same thing, so I feel don’t owe them anything (right?
8:10 pm: A girl starts taking pictures of him. He says, “stop taking pictures of me.” It’s his roommates girlfriend. Cue awkward smile. I then pretend nothing happened.
