Dating in New York 1.0

I met a guy at a club when I was still in college and after talking to me throughout the entire time there (ugh), he bought me a single red rose. I thought, over the top! But, then again, all women rant about how chivalry is dead, and this is a clear example of how it might not be.  Thus, I accepted it gratefully and he decided to go in for the full mouth wet kiss. No.

Months passed before I contacted him to finally accept his date offer (on his yacht, I might add) because I had to get back in the dating game after a breakup.

He went to school roughly thirty minutes from me, so I thought, I’d drive to him and he would drive us to see Moneyball with Brad Pitt. Wrong AND the yacht date offer had passed, as it was now late November and cold.  After bumper to bumper traffic for two hours, I finally arrived at his apartment.  He fit his very long body into my Audi shotgun…huh?  He immediately proceeded to hold my hand (we hadn’t seen each other for at least five months), he talked non-stop and I didn’t care because I’m again in traffic, and he refused to give me directions to the closest movie theater.  After I paid $14 for parking, arriving ten minutes late, and sitting in the absolute front row of the theater, the hand-holding has yet to subside.  I was friggin pissed.  

All of these cumulative bumps in the road were not even the reasons as to why I declined a second date.  Here is why:

Him: “So, I told my mom I was going on a date, and guess what she said?”

Me: “What, that she couldn’t believe it?”

Him: Confused, “No, she said ‘with that lovely girl Victoria?”

Me:  Stale face.

This woman remembered my name from when I saw her son half a year ago for all of maybe two hours in a club?  No.  Then I took a moment to realize that he had mentioned his mom in our conversation at least six times.  Bye.

'Mock if you want, but I feel a connection with my mom.'
cartoonstock.com

This was my second ever date; I was 21.  With the ease of speaking to people you don’t know, but might be interested in, through Facebook messages, Twitter direct messages, Instagram direct messages, online dating forums, chatrooms of all types, and even texting; how can anyone even remotely expect the opening of a door or the pulling out of chair anymore?  I understand we are in a serious and almost unprecedented economic downturn, however I still staunchly believe that the first date, should be covered by the man (and if you’re in a homosexual union, I would assume whoever did the asking out does the paying).  I also believe that if I have to pick up another “man” in my car for our date, I shall shoot myself.

“We’re in College, so, you know…

I can’t really afford to pay for both our movie tickets,” this guy said over the phone twenty minutes before we were to meet at the movies.  I rolled my eyes as a response and hung up.  Is this real life?  YOU asked ME out! If you can’t afford it, come up with another idea!  We women are down for more creative ideas than dinner and/or a movie; we understand that it’s expensive.  WTF.

The movie started at 9pm.  I got there, after even driving to the wrong theater twelve miles away, at 8:55pm.  I’m all about punctuality, not only is it a form of respect, but let’s get more to the point, I love previews.  After seven texts back and forth about where in the movie theater I was located, he plopped down next to me at 9:45pm. Is this real? Although I don’t remember the exact movie, I do know it was something thought provoking like Inception.  The end of the movie arrived and…now what?

We got to my car first and he sits shotgun.  Fine.  We argued about not only the movie, but about how my imagination was lacking and a variety of other flaws that I must so obviously have in this guys opinion; for an HOUR!  We never spoke again; he even unfriended me on Facebook.  

#Severe.

Friend Vibes

I had been waiting, seated, curbside for my best friend to arrive; we were headed to an NBA draft party for my very good friend and his acceptance onto the Brooklyn Nets and so there are tons of excited fans bopping about.  I was the soberest person I knew at this point and was simply entertaining myself by judging those around me. Nothing unusual here.

An attractive black man sidled up to me with two of his friends, expecting me to be curbside drunk and depressed.  After realizing I was simply sitting because my heels were killing me, he handed me his card and said he would be right back.  Whatever; I pocketed the card.

As my homie walked up to me, so too did this guy from the opposing direction.  He offered to put us in the VIP section of Cielo club — challenge accepted. The entire time at this place, my style is cramped because he’s attached to my hip. Cockblock city. It got to be so much so that a group of my friends who had finally gotten to the club actually asked him to leave so that I could party with my girls.  Yipes.

Regardless, I accepted the idea of a date.  Later that week we met at an independent theater in the city.  He asked if I could buy him a water at the bodega…fine.  We met, we approached the ticket taker and the amount was $26.  He threw down a twenty and just waited…so I threw down a ten and he …took the change?  I said nothing and gladly accepted the Baked by Melissa boutique cupcakes he bought for me.  Compensation? 

On the second date, he asked me to pick him up since it’s “on the way” to the MET.  My car began to overheat and we had to open the windows, sweated profusely, and found absolutely no parking; I was pissed.  Why am I even driving? This city has the best public transportation in the nation!  He decided we should drive even further downtown, into the Meatpacking district and get some Thai.  Fine. He ordered his food + alcohol and I did the same.  The bill was $70.  He threw down $50 and asked “do you mind?”  What am I supposed to say?  Other than the fact that the friend vibes were way more evident than any other vibe, I still decided to fade away from this situation and eventually (I think), he got the picture.  Sex and the City really steered me wrong here.

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