Stupid, Natalie: My Most “Interesting” Dates of 2010

January 1, 2011

And by “interesting”, I mean bad.

As 2011 approaches, 90% of blogs will feature some sort of exciting “best of 2010!” lists. Most people make lists at the new year of the best movies they saw or the best albums. Since I’m a whore, I put together my most interesting dating stories for your viewing pleasure. Read at your own risk, aka, if I’ve dated you, you’re liable to be included. I’m also probably not going to say nice things about you if you were an asshole, cause I’m starting to become comfortable saying mean things on my blog again. Yeah, watch out if you cross me. It isn’t libel; it happened. I would also like to preface this post by thanking the internet for bringing the following crazies into my life.

– The Bald Guy – There was this guy who was pretty great on paper. There were a few things I overlooked just for the sake of giving someone a shot, and he asked me out and I said yeah so it was on. He agreed to come to Williamsburg (I offered to meet him in the city and he insisted… he lived in Kensington – born and raised) and I took him to my favorite bar near my house. Some people would think it was a bad idea, but I find if I don’t tell them it’s near my house (everything is close in Williamsburg) getting home is never an issue, even if I’m toasted.
It was a cold Friday night, and I waited for him outside on the street near the bar. He settled on taking a car (again, not my idea) and arrived 2″ shorter than advertised; I always get the “wow, you’re tall” but it’s always way more fun when in the back of head I’m going “Yes, especially because you’re short.” He was also bald. Well, shaved. Like shiny. Ugh. It was a real turn off, and then he told me it was freshly shaved. He definitely had hair in his pictures. Note to men: Do not shave your head right before you go on a date. Especially if it’s 25 degrees out (no joke) and then don’t wear a hat. Duh.
The bar was crowded, and we pushed to the back and shared a small table with another group of people. We sat down and he immediately whipped out a fake cigarette; He informed me it was a vapor cigarette and proceeded to start puffing away inside of the bar. People started to stare and I asked him to stop. He kind of ignored me, stating it was “legal,” and started asking me question about religion and politics, which was awkward, and then on to my favorite sexual positions. Classy. At least buy me a drink first.
He then talked about himself, attempted to smoke his fake cigarette some more (something I DID finally put the kabosh on) and then reference things on my dating profile (yeah get over it) as if he had memorized it word for word. Sure, I’ll review and reference something and ask you about it, but I’m not going to say “I like that you wrote this…” and make it some sort of internet creeper compliment. He decided to fill every awkward silence (there were a lot) with one of these statements, and this caused me to drink a lot more just to keep from breathing and subsequently vomiting.
I excused myself from the catastrophe and went to the bathroom and texted my wonderful roommate of the time. He was out at a party with some of his friends and knew I was out on a date and wanted to check in with me. I told him I was having a miserable time and I needed saving. Immediately. He suggested I tell my date I needed to go pick him up from this party because he was too drunk and that I shouldn’t feel bad because it wasn’t a lie, he was really drunk. Back in these days I would feel really guilty if a date didn’t work out and I didn’t want to see the person anymore. (Unfortunately, the moment when I came to that realization happened within the first 45 seconds of meeting this guy.) I laughed and said I would try that as a last resort.
The bathroom line was taking forever, so I decided to ask the girl in front of me what she would do if she was on the worst first date of her life. Without hesitation, she volunteered to pretend to be an old friend of mine and absorb us into her large party of people until I could fade out and run away. I felt like it was a bit mean and definitely couldn’t just DITCH this guy, but I praised her for her kindness.
I went back to Sir Baldy and found him making conversation and showing off his fake cigarette/vapor stick with another group of people in my absence. In that moment I wish I had just bailed altogether, hightailed it to the door and around the corner to my apartment before he could realize I wasn’t coming back, but I’m not a quitter (STUPID, NATALIE), and knew I had to end it myself. He asked if I was hungry (I wasn’t) but I decided getting out of the bar would maybe push things towards finishing early. On our way out the door, we passed my new friend from the bathroom line. She “recognized me” and jumped straight into our act squealing my name and giving me the biggest, most authentic hug I had ever received from a stranger. I laughed and thanked her and we left. Always gotta look our for yer fellow females.
I took him to a pizza place around the corner (he wanted a sit-down restaurant, and I dodged that request by saying I wasn’t hungry) and he ate and talked about how shocked he was that I wasn’t hungry at 9:30pm; he then shared that he eats every two hours in order to maintain his muscle mass or some shit. I kept glancing at my phone nervously and mentioned having to pick up my drunk roommate from a party (I was getting desperate). Sir Baldy said he would come and help me carry him him home. I assured him it wasn’t necessary, and just said I needed to be getting home.
I don’t remember how I escaped, but I did, running as quickly as I could in the opposite direction, texting my roommate that it was finally over and I was alive. Worst date of my life to date. The guy actually felt good enough about how it went to ask me out again, which made no sense in my mind. I ignored the text and went about my life and tried to forget about it permanently.
Lesson learned: When there isn’t any chemistry, there really isn’t any chemistry. If the person makes you feel like vomiting from the get go, they will probably make you feel that way all night. Run as fast as you possibly can.

– DJ Wheelchair – I met this guy on a dating website and he seemed pretty interesting. “Exiled nightlife socialite/dj” was kind of the label which he gave himself, which intrigued me because you probably have to do something pretty outrageous for that ish. But nothing seemed too out of place and after a few emails, I agreed to happy hour. Then, on a casual review of his profile, (and a google search of his name which lead to several articles about him) I realized that I had missed a HUGE note in his profile. He had a serious degenerative illness and was wheelchair bound. I accept 90% responsibility for this misread because it was pretty much in bold letters three times. (I actually blame desperation and laziness, and this guy just a little bit, because saying that you’re 6’4″, but not being able to stand up ever, seems a little unfair.)
There was a lot of concern and rumblings from the peanut gallery over this date… a lot of judgement, actually. Everyone seemed really confused why I agreed to go out with him; I’m an equal opportunity dater, and we seemed like we had some things in common so who was I to discriminate against him for being in a wheelchair? I thought that was kind of mean just to NOT go out with him based on that reason alone. Several people expressed concern for the long term (before I’d even gone out with him once) and my response ran something along the lines of that if we were meant to fall in love, we would, and I would worry about the logistics later.
He turned out to be an asshole. Just another case of me ignoring very obvious red flags.
He started by moving our date 2 hours back right before I left the house. Yes, it was a wheelchair-malfunction related delay, but I could have been given more than a 10 minute warning. We met for drinks at a fairly well known bar in our neighborhood. He spent most of the time talking about himself, primarily bragging about how much money he made off of a lawsuit and how he is a nightlife personality in another state (he called it “exiled socialite”.) For someone who was as wealthy and well versed in dating as he implied, I was a little surprised that he didn’t offer to buy me a drink. I was kind of bored, with him going on and on about everything he did, and I could have called it a night, but I agreed to post-drinking sushi and figured maybe he was just nervous and couldn’t stop talking about himself (I do that sometimes… obviously), so off we went. The sushi restaurant was okay, mediocre at best, and we ended up going halfsies (didn’t offer to buy… again. Insert awkward check moment here), but after realizing that I didn’t have enough cash, I agreed to buy dessert (frozen yogurt) if he covered dinner. Stupid, Natalie.
He continued to talk about himself all through dinner and dessert, and lets just say when I walked with him to a bar where he was meeting some friends and his brother (who happens to be the member of a band I REALLY like) I immediately said goodnight and turned on my heel and headed back to my apartment.
I unintentionally ran into him a few times in our neighborhood and warded off casual invitations to bars where he was DJing, and over a month later he asked me out, formally. Instead of just saying “no,” and being the dick I can become if you poke me too many times, I gave him a hard time about not paying for ANYTHING, and then said I wasn’t really interested in doing it again. Stupid, Natalie.
I haven’t seen him since.
Lesson learned: Read the profile. Spot the crazy red waving flags. If the date sucks, don’t agree to parts 2 and 3. Stupid, Natalie.

– The Actor – I met this gorgeous funny guy who invited me over for Futurama and a bottle of wine which seemed far to innocent to be true. We had a lot in common so I figured a casual first date would be easy, considering we both had trouble shutting up and the chemistry was easy enough. We met at a wine store near his house and picked out a bottle of wine… He was an actor and a bartender and knew quite a bit about wine (I do not) so he did most of the work… I ended up buying the bottle, thinking that gave a more casual vibe than two people sitting around drinking a bottle of wine on a couch. I was thinking it was too good too be true… spending the evening with a kind hot, funny, guy who seemed to be really into me… annnnnnd it was. For some reason things moved a little more quickly than I expected. Yeah we were making out, it happens, but the next thing I knew I was getting the head push. YEAH. THAT head push. Are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I was so shocked I called him out on the behavior, and I’m not sure if he panicked because I said something or if he was actually serious, but he said something like “what do you mean no head on the first date? we’re not going to have sex either?” He was serious about it. In my head, I started to blame myself thinking I totally gave the wrong impression, but maybe I just like to make friends too much and enjoy spending time with people with shared interests. Apparently a bottle of wine translated to “LETS DO IT”. I said thanks for the lovely evening and walked home.
We didn’t speak for months and then out of the blue he started gchatting me or something and asked me out again. I called him out on the bad behavior and he basically said that’s how he rolled and if I wasn’t cool with it, I should peace. I was a little flabbergasted because HE was the one coming on to me again, and I proceeded to tell him to fuck off (in not so many words) and blocked him off the list. Woof.
Lesson learned: I have to learn how to speak man. Apparently it’s a bit more difficult to pick up than I thought.

– Momo – The wonderful internet let me stumble upon this tall, dark, and handsome guy who had this crazy awesome job as kind of the idea guy for Momofuku Milk Bar. This means he got to travel around, eat food, and come up with new treats and ice cream flavors. Apparently this job takes a lot of time, and when we discovered the new milk bar was 30 seconds away from my house, I invited him over to watch Jimmy Fallon or something after work. He agreed, and promised to bring treats (my roommate and I were thrilled.) He even offered to pick me up in the milk bar truck and drive me home from work in the city.
He came over and brought LOTS of treats (far more than I expected.) including part of this crazy cookie that they had created for a charity function with gold flakes in it. We actually had a nice time, until he gave me this whole spiel about how he feels he can meet someone one night and fall in love and then be out of love with them the next day. This whole discussion made me put up this big old wall that was aimed at keeping him from making some sort of move on me that would make me like him and then he would just bounce out into the night and I’d never hear from him again. Pathetically, we fell asleep and nothing really went beyond a snuggle. I decided not to let it happen, although chemistry implied it could, just because I wanted nothing to do with this ridiculous new age perspective on love and lust and commitment and blah blah blah NOT HAVING IT.
I think he actually just used me for the proximity of my apartment to his job. It wasn’t the first time I had gotten this feeling from someone I had dated… the earlier draft of this included one Mr. Yo Gabba Gabba Bushwick who would stay over (if at all during our brief encounter) only on weeknights… because I saved him 20 minutes on his commute… unfortunately he’s not even remotely interesting enough for this essay… although I’m sure his name is incredibly intriguing.
Momo disappeared from the face of the earth after that night. I was willing to pace myself and get to know this guy, but no more of these one night hooplahs. A week or so later, he responded to my text with “who is this?” I passed him on the street when he was in the momo truck and waved. He looked right at me as if he didn’t recognize me and started the truck.
A few months later I got an email: “Can I come over again?” I wanted to email back “I moved.” but then I just decided no email was better than some sort of weirdo email trying to explain why I wasn’t feeling it. He emailed me again after that, and as tempted as I was to email him back, my roommate stopped me and pointed out no amount of free momofuku milk bar was worth putting up with a weirdo for.

Honorable mention: the rapper that invited my girlfriend out with him and another rapper… to a strip club… in long island.
it never happened, but it would have made a reaaaaally good story.



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