Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down…
Wait, not quite. But it is a story, as The Amazon puts it, about the Hindenburg of Third Dates.
This date seemed promising enough. I’d met The Giant (not to be confused with The Amazon!) on OKCupid, and he was witty, flirty, and really quite attractive. A few weeks ago, we met up for our first date, and 90% of the signs were good: he got extra points for a creative first-date activity and for appreciating my shoes. 10% of the signs, however, were yellow cards. 1) He ordered a blended margarita. Yes, we were eating cheap Mexican food at the time, and yes, margaritas do go particularly well with enchiladas, but: dude, I am judging you on this drink choice. 2) There was no goodnight kiss, despite a fair amount of tactile flirting throughout the night.
Now, I am a tall lady, and I was extra-tall that night due to a particularly bad-ass pair of shoes. (Think 6’1”.) And for the first time in my life, I was on a date with someone who was so significantly taller than me that I was physically unable to instigate a goodnight kiss unless a stepladder had been involved. I got in my cab, chalked the lack of kissing up to shyness on his part, and considered it a good date.
Second date: dinner, drinks, walk through a lovely park. There is still no goodnight kiss, which is beginning to confuse me.
And now the epically bad third date approaches: The Giant has said “come to my new apartment, and I will make you dinner.” This, to me, is Proving Ground. 1) I am coming to your home, and very likely there is a couch in your home, which means that the height disparity between myself and The Giant can be negated by a seated position. 2) The Giant is cooking for me, and he knows that I am something of a badass cook myself, so he must be aware that some kitchen skill is necessary to impress.
I arrive with a rather nice bottle of wine, and realize that “I’m making you dinner” has turned into “I am ordering pizza, and oh by the way, we’re sharing it with my roommates.”
Roommates, who, though I’m sure are lovely people in their own right, thought nothing of continuing to hang out with The Giant and myself for the entire night. The Giant had clearly failed to apprise them of the fact that this was a Date (I assume a simple “Nada is coming over for dinner, so can you perhaps leave us to the living room tonight?” would have been sufficient). Roommates who immediately snag the only side-by-side seating in the living room by taking over the couch, leaving The Giant and myself seated in separate chairs on opposite sides of the room.
(The pizza ordered by The Giant, by the way, was really pretty crappy.)
As the four of us: myself, The Giant, and his two roommates! sit down to watch a movie, The Giant grabs his laptop from the table. I assume he is going to shut it down and charge it, but oh no. He cozies up to the laptop and spends the next 150 minutes alternating between typing on the laptop and texting on his phone. I realize, about 20 minutes into this show of indecorous behavior, that I may as well be hanging out in a fraternity house circa sophomore year of college.
And yet, post-movie, in a strange display of chivalry, The Giant offers to walk me home. Perhaps now will be the point at which he apologizes for making zero effort whatsoever towards this date, yes? He will have a heartfelt explanation as to why he is wearing jeans and a well-worn white t-shirt (and not even a “I put this on for the date and have not worn it all day and stretched it out” t-shirt!), why he substituted subpar takeout pizza for the promised home-cooked dinner, why he has treated this evening as another night at home with his computer and his roommates?
As we walk toward my apartment, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and continues texting.
This cannot go on. I call him out on it, as gently as my insulted dignity allows, and he offers a half-assed apology: “I know it’s rude, sorry.” If you know that this behavior is rude, why in god’s name do you continue to do it?
The date ends at my front gate with no effort towards a goodnight kiss, thank god. If he’d tried to kiss me after that Giant Fucking Fail of a date, I’d have laughed at him.