There are first dates that go bad. There are first dates that go great. Then there are the first dates that don’t really go anywhere. One day, repeat one day ago, I had a first date with a guy. Mind you, I forgave the fact that the day before on our first half date he tried sticking a hand down my pants, I didn’t judge or even hold it against him. I figured it was a drunken lapse in judgement.
But I was oh so very wrong. Tonight I met the Animator and his boyfriend for a drink which landed us at the 9th Avenue Saloon. A complete shit-hole bar with cheap drinks. Not five feet away from me was my date from the night before, hanging all over another guy.
Initially I wasn’t sure it was him. I had to take a second, even third look to be sure. Then we made direct eye contact, he leaned in to his date to say something, and I knew it was him. The next hour I only looked from the corner of my eye, not letting them see me glancing, my date and his new date looking over every few minutes. Not only did he not feel any need to hide the date, but he was apparently rubbing it all up in my face.
I was cool, calm and collected, which took every bit of effort I could muster. I walked by them once to visit the restroom, nodding my head to acknowledge them and be polite. I have manners. They continued kissing and groping. That’s all fine, but is this what is happening when the guy never calls you back? He moves on so fast he’s practically fucking a stranger in a bar the day after?
The only lesson I learned from this is that I truly have terrible taste in guys. I deleted every phone number I’ve collected in the past year, including all text messages to ensure I can’t have any repeat mistakes. It’s time for a fresh start.