Confession: I don’t go on a lot of dates. In my friend group I’m the perpetually single one. So much so that the last time I had an actual boyfriend I was asked on Facebook, by a girl whose wedding I was in, if it was a joke. When I do plunge into the pool of dating, it generally isn’t terrible, and overall, I get the draw. However, 2015 brought into my life the worst date I have ever been on. The story goes as follows.
As with every fairytale love story, our meeting was under the heavy influence of alcohol due to the open bar at a D-League basketball game. With front row tickets to the action, not only we were close enough to see the “dance” team bust moves, but our position also made us prime targets for the team’s mascot. Flash, as we’ll call him, was all over our group; posing for pictures, tossing us free stuff, and generally encouraging our drunken behavior. After the game, a guy approached us asking how the pictures turned out and once the confusion and feeling of being creeped out subsided, we put things together. Flash was invited along to our next stop for more beverages where we exchanged phone numbers. And the next day, following my apology at not remembering any of our previous conversations, we set up plans for a date.
Things started out fairly normally for a first date, considering the guy clearly had more confidence beneath the mask of his mascot costume. But then dinner arrived and the trouble started. Now, of course I consider myself a catch, but when your date is telling you a few bites in that he gets butterflies when he thinks about you, the warning signals start to flash. (You’re welcome for that one) Between conversation about his video game podcast and his passion for superheroes, I was invited to watch him at a game the following weekend. To sit in a private box at that. With his entire family. Ya know, 5 days after officially meeting the guy. Oh, and did I mention that his father also used to be a mascot?
It was then that I started laying it on thick with anti-relationship talk to try and calm the fire. Or more specifically, catch some of the butterflies I had unknowingly released. Apparently it was ignored because dinner ended and he asked me what we were doing next. Live band karaoke was the clear next step. Minimal talking and a chance for him to “impress” me with his vocal chops. Will his talents never end?!
His name was called and he asked me for a kiss good luck. Denied. A kiss on the cheek? Denied. He settled for a side hug. I don’t remember what his song choice was because thankfully one of my friends showed up and I gained a sympathizer. And no, I hadn’t sent the bad date bailout text. As luck would have it, my off and on hookup happened to arrive moments later. He was a touch drunk and when he greeted me, he kissed me and proceeded to tell me that I could do better than the guy I was on the date with. Seconds after, Flash approached to wrangle me back to my beer and his company. Not knowing if he had witnessed the kiss, I decided honesty was the best policy and approached the topic.
I’m not sure if you’ve had the experience of seeing a nerdy hipster explode with hatred and literally jump out of his seat to go fight someone, but boy, is it fun! Flash was physically shaking, asking me to calm him down while I explained that fighting my friend is not the way to my heart. Personally, I thought my patting of his hand was plenty of reassurance that things were going to be ok. His response was to tell me that he would protect and defend me like his own family. How dare that guy have the nerve to kiss you when you were obviously on a date?! Check, please.
One would think the hint would be taken by this point, but good ole Flash still asked to come up to my apartment when he dropped me off. Round two of no’s and side hugging. I suppose points for trying? Nonetheless, the terrible evening was over and I obtained a quality story to entertain my friends. Oh, and some free basketball tickets before I cut off communication. Because I’m a semi-terrible person.
That was in March, and a couple weeks ago Flash reemerged and found me on social media. Ironically, some friends and I had tickets to a basketball game a week later where he found me and used hand signals to tell me I broke his heart. Four girls laughing hysterically couldn’t have helped his ego, but he still texted me a few days afterwards saying he saw me and asked to take me out again. I’m told that love never dies, and my next basketball tickets are set for mid-January, so I suppose we’ll see if this never-ending saga continues. Until then, here’s hoping that 2016 is a slam dunk! Or at least filled with less bad puns and even less bad dates..
Image via YouTube