I’ve been single for a year now, dating one to three times a week. I’m pretty tired. Here are my top ten worst, ranked, in my opinion, from least tragic to most.
- I have a non-negotiable height requirement of 6′ for all of my dates, because I am 6’2″ in heels. This is a controversial request that fills my OkCupid inbox with insults from short guys. What I haven’t ever specified is a weight requirement. I should have, because last week, my date weighed 29 pounds. It’s a hard thing to spot in solo pictures. There was nothing to compare him to. If he had posted a pic holding something like, a Snickers bar, I would have realized that he needed both hands to support it, and that date would never have happened. But really, what would that guy be doing with a Snickers bar? My thigh was bigger than his torso. Also, he asked me come to Brooklyn on a weeknight rather than meeting me in Manhattan. I forgave him once I met him, because I realized that his body didn’t have the caloric strength to make it across the East River.
- Bald in the back. Long hair in the front. It was a seriously unique mullet. He was also sweaty and spit on me every time he spoke. I had my friend text me with a fake apartment flood and bolted.
- Most definitely gay. So gay that we should have switched outfits. He talked a lot about how women were only interested in him for his money. In my imaginary world, I gave him a big, gay, friendly hug, and sprinkled magical come-out-of-the-closet strength on his head. In the real world, I let him buy me three $18 cocktails at Hotel Griffou and then wished him all the best.
- An Asian dermatologist with a very thick accent that I was unprepared for. I briefly considered changing my no-phone-calls-before-a-first-date rule, but my hatred for the telephone ultimately won out over my awkwardness around accents that prevent me from deciphering what’s being said. I was able to understand him when he said with a creepy smirk that he needed to perform a full body skin check on me. And I’m sure that wasn’t the first time he’d seen a woman head for the door.
- I walked into Max Fish and scanned the crowd for someone matching the pictures I had seen online. I didn’t see him, and I was five minutes late, because I like to arrive second; I hate waiting for people. I texted him “I’m here.” He texted back, “I am too, right behind you in the blue shirt.” Interesting. The guy in the pictures had brown hair and the guy behind me had gray hair. I’m not positive it was even the same person, and if it was, those pictures were fifteen years old. This was my first bait and switch. I was intrigued and amused. Would he acknowledge the discrepancy? No. Instead, he told me that he caught a mouse in a sticky trap that day and had beaten it in the head with a baseball bat to kill it, because he thought that was “the humane way to go.” Then he launched into a story about bedbugs. I had, by chance, received four texts and two calls since I sat down, so I drained my drink and told him that I had to go deal with a work emergency.
- Super serious dude. When someone puts out the vibe that they are incapable of laughter, the comedienne in me gets very nervous and goes over the top with jokes and dramatic arm gestures to win them over. I pulled out my best material. I may as well have been performing at a funeral. I was a rubber chicken to his lump of coal. I got drunk and made out with him. He friended me on Facebook the next day which is, in my opinion, one of the worst parts of dating – all of those useless Facebook connections. I already have too many people to stalk who actually mean something to me. Now I’m obligated to check in on guys that are practically strangers? Of course, when I’m depressed, I look them all up and imagine that one of them could have been something special.
- A silver fox. He started crying at the table while telling me an incredibly sad story about the death of his child, and concluded by saying that he needs someone to love him because he doesn’t love himself. I told him that it didn’t work that way, that he had to flip his philosophy and love himself first. As we said goodnight outside of the restaurant, he asked me if I’d email him an “assessment of the evening and what I felt about him.” I agreed with all of the sincerity that I could muster while knowing I was lying.
- I asked a guy I’d been out with twice before to go to a concert at Prospect Park with a group of my friends. He accepted the invitation and asked me to have dinner at his place first in Crown Heights, which is a mighty rapey neighborhood for a girl from the West Village. I was proud of myself for trucking all the way out there alone, but I started to get angry during the walk from the train that he had no regard for my safety. As we entered our second hour of waiting for his friend to prepare dinner, I mentioned that we were late for the concert, and he said, “you should just go by yourself.” A trip to the ghetto left me hungry and dateless.
- Great body; good energy. We had a six hour date in which he said things like “when you see my house,” as in, you will be seeing me again. He asked me to go skiing with him the next day. With his kids. And as weird as that was, I took it as a compliment and politely declined. I admit that I’m not yet a pro at spotting red flags. I asked him if he had been to the tenement museum because it was on my list of things to do and he said, “no, let’s do that on our next date.” We made out a lot and he tried repeatedly to come home with me. Luckily, I had prepared for this by not shaving my legs, which is what I do to prevent myself from getting naked on a first date. He never called me again.
- Beyond cute. He looked like the kind of guy I had always hoped to date but I didn’t think I would qualify for. I enjoy a fashionable hipster ensemble, but he needs to be hygienic beneath the facade. Not only are these types hard to find, but they are almost never tall, and this one was. I was encouraged. We went from a bar to a restaurant to another bar to his apartment, which was the most perfect single boy pad I had ever seen. In my imaginary world, he became my boyfriend the moment I walked through his door. In the real world, he kissed me. I didn’t know that it was possible to kiss that badly. It became very clear to me why he was single when every cell in my body screamed “NOOO!” and I couldn’t even pretend that I wasn’t horrified. After the embarrassment of calling a car service at 4 a.m. from some random dude’s house, I added a rule to never go home with a date before kissing him. That night was a complete adventure in duh that I replay in my head, disbelieving what an idiot I am. I was all “Wow, I am the luckiest girl in the world, I found the only great guy left in NY!” and then life was like “Hi, hello, get a grip, you are still so friggin’ gullible, ha, this is just too easy!”
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