What’s Worse Than A Bad First Date?

profile  woman in a shade of a silhouette with phone, isolated on a white background

For well over a year now, I’ve vented about horrible first dates, ridiculous men, and the neurotic world of dating that I’ve survived since I started this random journey. I never expected to find something even more challenging about this experience. Bad dates? Pfft. I got this. Great date that didn’t end up as a one night stand? What the heck is that all about. Let me go back to the beginning.

So there I am, trolling POF because what else do I have to do on a Saturday? A username caught my eye so I texted him to ask if he’s from Pittsburgh. He said no, he just likes the Steelers and we kind of went from there. We talked for a few hours and agreed to go out. I didn’t want to go to a bar where I wouldn’t be able to hear anything so we went down to the water front. It was great, relaxed. He made me laugh, we know some of the same people… grew up in the same area etc. He’s employed, has his own place. Nothing stood out as bat shit crazy, all night long.

We stayed out until 3 in the morning. He didn’t try to kiss me, so I of course spend half the night lying in bed wondering why. Then I berate myself because I’m a forward thinking female, if I wanted kissed, I should have kissed him. What is this, the 1800s? Then as I’m about to fall asleep he texts me to make sure I got home okay and that he had a good time. All I could think of was:

shavefirstdateI shaved my legs, and didn’t even get a kiss. I’m gonna need you to bring your ass back out so you can finish the date properly. What did I text back? Me too, sweet dreams.

I’m more neurotic after this first successful date in months, than I have been with the characters I’ve previously written about. There really is no pleasing me. Let me dress up, but don’t comment on my chest I hate that. I want you to treat me with the utmost respect,  but for fuck sake kiss me good night. I want you to be smart, funny, engaging, sincere, mostly-honest, and in addition to all that, have shoulders that I can’t help but touch.

Basically I want the big fucking white whale of men, and no, I will not call you Ishmael.

Oh but really the date went well, and I’d like to see him again. We texted a few times today, so I wasn’t too bat shit crazy for him I guess.

Or he has a think for bat shit crazy who knows.



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