I am trying to get back into dating in 2018 because I feel like I haven’t been “putting myself out there” enough lately. However, whenever I think a person looks nice, I have a flashback of The Date.
I met this dude (who shall remain nameless) on Tinder, and he seems really awesome. His profile seems genuinely sweet, and he lists interests in feminism, kink, and tattoos—what more could a girl want?
We meet up at a restaurant that only serves chocolate-related foods (his choice) for dinner. He looks like his pictures (yay!) and is wearing a quirky pineapple-print shirt. I was so hopeful.
We sit down and the waitress asks us if we are ready to order. I start to speak but he cuts me off to order chocolate fondue for two. I guess that’s what we’re having. Whatever, it’s free right?
Wrong. After the waitress walks away, he looks me dead in the eye and says “I always split the bill on dates because I’m a feminist”. What.
But at the time we were both university students, so I thought it was reasonable that he didn’t want to pay. Besides, any dude that isn’t completely thrown into a tizzy by the word “feminism” must be ok.
So the date goes on, and we are having some decent conversations about normal topics while we wait for the food. That is, until I casually mention that I’ve been dabbling in burlesque dancing.
His face lights up, and he says “You like burlesque? I have a leather fetish!” As if those are at-all related.
I firmly believe that people should be allowed to do whatever they want, as long as it’s consensual, so I’m not writing this to kink shame. But that guy proceeded to launch into a very long and detailed explanation of all of the leather fetish gear he had in his apartment and which were his favourites.
That’s when the waitress came to serve our food. He didn’t even pause.
When he was done cataloguing his collection to me, I said something along the lines of “wow, that’s a big collection” or something equally redundant in an effort to switch the conversation to another subject.
He changed the subject alright. To deeply invasive questions about my sexual preferences.
Have you ever noticed that you don’t realize how loud someone is speaking until they are asking you if you enjoy the use of nipple clamps in a chocolate restaurant?
Every time he said “butt plug” I cringed a little harder. I finally cut him off at said “your profile says you play guitar, I’d love to hear more about that!”
He takes the bait and starts telling me about how he travelled all over North America with a band for 4 months. Finally, the cool guy from the profile was coming out!
Like, literally coming out. Suddenly he wasn’t talking about music anymore, he was talking about how on one night during the tour he had his first gay experience with one of the band members. Apparently it was very tender.
He asked if I was offended by his bisexuality. I informed him that I wasn’t, because I am bisexual as well.
As a woman, it is never advisable to tell a man that you are bisexual because this will instantly and inevitably trigger an alarm in his brain that sounds like: THREESOME! THREESOME! THREESOME!
You bet this revelation put a big grin on this particular man’s face. Filled with regret, I sat across the table waiting for the inevitable.
And then something even weirder happened. He asked me if I wanted to be in a triad relationship with him and his long-distance sub.
He explained that he was a dom (unsurprising, given the leather fetish) and she was a sub, and I could be whichever I want. Hmm, great offer, but noooooo thanks.
This date had derailed enough at this point, so I flat out told him I wasn’t interested. He took this to mean that I was not interested in that particular relationship scenario, so he offered up another option.
He asked if I’d be willing to consider a triad with two dudes.
I entertained the idea for a hot minute because logically two boyfriends is better than one.
I asked him if he had a dude in mind. He said that he didn’t, but that we could date other dudes together or he would be willing to go find one on his own.
He also suggested that if I wanted to test it out, his roommate would be down for a threesome if I went home with him that night.
I was starting to get serial-killer vibes from this dude, so I didn’t want to upset him. I said something needing everyone to get tested because I’m allergic to latex and can’t use condoms.
His face dropped and I thought it was because he didn’t have test results at the ready so I wouldn’t be going home with him.
Turns out he didn’t need test results, as he loudly announced (to all the unfortunate restaurant patrons) that he has herpes and from how he described it, he was in the middle of a pretty severe breakout.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t finish my food at a restaurant.
We paid the bill (split equally, of course) and he walked me to my bus stop.
I’m standing there thinking about how I’m going to swerve the goodnight kiss that is sure to follow this extremely weird evening, and he starts asking me about my tattoos, particularly the one on my sternum (under and between my boobs) that is partially visible in some of my Tinder profile pictures.
He asks if he can see it. I’m wearing a shirt with a high neckline. There is obviously no easy way to show him.
He just stares at me, waiting for a concrete yes or no answer.
I look around, flash him, and then get on the bus—where I promptly unmatched him.