I matched with ‘Cheapskate’ on Happn, and we messaged back and forth for a while before agreeing to meet at El Rey on U Street for a few drinks on a Saturday night. I was going to a birthday party on U Street at 9, so I was in this for the long haul, and willing to drink enough tequila to make any interaction at least tolerable for three hours.
Step 1: Messages
Cheapskate’s opening line was that he “thought it was cool” that I worked for a Big 4 firm, because he’s currently studying for his CPA. EXCITING SHIT. I revisited his bio (6’4 and cute enough pictures – done) and decided to roll with it. We transitioned to text, and I quickly realized that he was the dreaded double texter. If I didn’t respond immediately he would send a follow-up, either re-phrasing what he had just said or covering with a ‘sorry if that seems like a weird thing to say’ (no, it was normal, I was just like blowing my nose or trimming my toenails or coughing or something, SORRY for not responding within THREE SECONDS).
His messages seemed normal enough, except that no matter what I mentioned – be it brunch, tequila, my uncle’s goat farm, etc – his response was “oh, I have SO MANY STORIES about that. You’d love to hear them. I can’t wait to tell you in person”…yet NOT ASKING ME OUT. Eventually I took the reigns and told him that I would be down to meet for a drink on Saturday in the U Street area. He agreed and suggested El Rey, which sounded Mexican, which implies tequila, so YUP. We agreed to meet at 6 PM.
Step 2: The Meeting
In case you haven’t heard, the Metro sucks. Especially on weekends. I was therefore not surprised AT ALL when the green line train I was taking to U Street went out of service two stops before I needed to get off. Fine, I like walking, but I was going to be 15 minutes late – which to my date was SEVEN LIFETIMES. I received the following texts on my
walk strut over (Beyonce playlist or GTFO).
C – Where are you?
Seriously where are you.
Don’t you know that it’s rude to be late?
You’re lucky that I’m not just leaving right now.
CHILL THE FUCK OUT. I’m sorry I showered and tried to look good/not like a greasy sweaty post-gym mess for you? And I’m sorry that the WMATA system was designed by low-functioning chimpanzees on an acid trip? Any last shred of me that was looking forward to this date quickly vanished, and the only thing that kept me going was the promise of free margaritas.
I finally got to El Rey, located Cheapskate at his table in the back, and noticed that he had very clearly gained a significant amount of weight since his photos were taken.
He noticed my boobs.*
This was not a great start.
*I was, admittedly, dressed like a little thot, but I was going out afterwards! I have needs, damn it!
My date immediately launched into a million different topics of conversation as I low-key hunted down anyone who looked like they could be wait staff, or at one point in their life had combined tequila with triple sec and lime juice. No such luck – this was a “go to the bar yourself” kind of deal. Cool! That’s why God invented men.
I cut Cheapskate off in the middle of a rant about how there was no good cheese in DC (FALSE, SIR) by whacking him in the face with a drink menu and half-yelling “Let’s get a pitcher of margaritas!!!! I need alcohol goggles to think you look like your pictures!!”
He was like, “sure, do you want to split the cost?”
*cue blank ass stare*
C – Why are you looking at me like that?
J – No.
C – Oh, well, it’s just that I don’t have a job right now, and my parents are charging me rent to live with them, so…
J – *dies internally; searches for escape route; prays to be on Candid Camera*
C – …ok, I’ll get this round, but you get the next!
J – *emotionally shriveled; plagued by a thirst that only a sugar daddy can fill*
FINALLY, a pitcher (more like carafe, really El Rey? $30 for this shit?!) of margaritas was sat in front of me, and I claimed the first pour. Cheapskate claimed the second… and the third… and really any time he had more than two sips of his marg he would fill his glass back up to the top. Oh yeah, buddy? Why you gotta be like that? Well, two could play at this game.
And trust me, I needed all the alcohol I could get, because then we got to…
Step 3: The Conversation
Remember when I mentioned that Cheapskate had a lot of “stories”? HE. WASN’T. LYING. I could barely get a word in edgewise, and not for a lack of trying – I think he was genuinely only interested in my body, because he never broke eye contact with my tits as he covered the following topics of conversation:
C – Yeah, I’m super into music, and usually really ahead of the curve. I knew ‘Party Rock Anthem,’ like, two months before it got big.
J – Haha, like in 2008?
C – TWO THOUSAND E-LEV-EN, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
J – Ok… so what do you use? Spotify? Soundcloud?
C – What are those? All I know is iTunes.
J – *facepalm*
C – In my frat, we used to have this thing called ‘Coning’ where we would prank each other. The worst thing that ever happened to me is I left myself logged into Facebook on my bro’s computer, and he changed my status to ‘I love Nickelback.’ It took me like, months to recover from the embarrassment.
J – Is that it? I’ve seen a lot worse…
C – DUDE. NOBODY LIKES NICKELBACK.
C – I have this one buddy, who’s like, SUPER hilarious. He says the most quotable shit. The best one is probably, this one time, he was like ‘tequila makes me weird.’ Hahahahaha how funny is that?? I should put it on a bumper sticker.’
J – …isn’t the saying typically ‘tequila makes my clothes fall off’?
C – *THRILLED SMILE, LEANING IN WAY TOO CLOSE* Oh my gosh, J! Don’t give me those ideas… at least not in public!’
J – *presses silent alarm under table*
Drinks and Bars
C – My favorite drink right now is just vodka with food dye in it. It’s still just vodka, but the food dye throws me off and makes it look cool.
C – I was at this little bar called Dan’s Cafe – you probably haven’t heard of it.
J – Oh, I love Dan’s! I was just there last Sat-
C – So, they have their drinks in these squirt bottles. Super cool.
J – Yeah, I know, I’ve been there a lo-
C – Do you want to go buy us shots? I got the last round.
C – Hey, so I’m going to Brass Monkey tonight, you should totally blow off your friend’s birthday party and come with me. I mean, I’m definitely more fun than they are.
J – ……
C – I’m running this 5K in July, wanna run it with me?
J – …………
C – I can’t wait to celebrate New Year’s with you!
J – *vomits at table*
Step 4: The Exit
Ok guys. I’ve never done this before. But, if you read ANY of the above conversations, you know that SHIT WAS BAD. Real bad. So, after shaking Cheapskate upside down by his ankles until enough money to buy myself a Corona fell out, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
Issue 1: It is very, very difficult to bring all of your belongings (coat, purse, beer) into the bathroom without seeming conspicuous.
C – What are you doing?
J – I need a tampon.
Boys NEVER question the ol’ tampon trick.
Issue 2: My conscience was stabbing my internal organs with a dull knife.
Solution: Give the three other women in the bathroom a play-by-play of the night, and ask for validation.
Woman 1 – OMG girl run.
Woman 2 – Chug your beer first though!!
Done and done.
Issue 3: Cell phones.
Solution: Use my bathroom time to block his phone number, Snapchat, and Happn account.
I’m still dreading the inevitable LinkedIn invite.
Then I took a deep breath, had one of the women keep lookout for me, and BOLTED. I beelined it to American Ice Company… and then realized that it would still be about 30 minutes until my friends got there. Not a problem. I did a quick sweep of the bar, and noticed a group of four older guys standing to my left. Jackpot. I approached them, and introduced myself.
J – Hey guys! Sorry to interrupt, but I just ran away from the worst date of my life, and I really need to tell someone about it.
Jose – I’ll buy you a beer!
All in all, it ended up being a great night, and now I have four new 30-year-old married friends, and a healthy fear of showing face at Brass Monkey or Dan’s!!