to help me get through the evening. I had learned a lesson the last time. People aren’t always going to be exactly who they say they are, and maybe that’s okay. I had to look at myself here and decide if even my own profile on the app made me out to be exactly who I was, and not just the parts of myself I wanted people to see.
Ten minutes went by and Brandon still hadn’t shown up, but I didn’t feel bothered yet. Ten minutes could mean that he was stuck in traffic, and not necessarily that I was being stood up.
At the twenty-minute late mark, I sent Jon a text message, “Brandon still hasn’t shown, remind me why I am doing this again?”
“Relax,” he responded. “He is probably just running late. Take a lap around the bar. Maybe he is already there waiting for you too.”
“Valid point,” I typed back and then stood to see if I could find him maybe sitting at a table behind a pillar or in a dark corner. Maybe he was also sitting nervously, thinking it was me who was standing him up.
I walked to each corner of the bar and looked around in all the crevices that could potentially be hiding a patiently waiting patron. I checked my app and didn’t have any messages from him. Maybe I was being stood up?
I walked across the bar once again and then down a hallway that led to the restrooms. I wasn’t really sure what my plan was at this point but I thought it was worth a shot.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw him though. At first, I wasn’t completely sure, but when I saw the glasses I just knew. At the end of the hallway was Brandon, pushed up against the wall, another man pushed up against him, their mouths connected and hands running all over each other's bodies.
Maybe I should have shown up earlier than right on time. Maybe he got bored waiting. Once again, and without my control, my eyes rolled and I deleted yet another potential suitor from the dating app.
Date Three
I wasn’t going to make the bar date mistake again. If I was going to go on a third date, it would be for lunch, in a well-lit restaurant. Or maybe even coffee. No more bars, though, I told myself. And that’s what I told Alex when he messaged me and asked me out on a date.
He sat across the table from me at a lunch spot I’d never been to but the patio seemed nice enough for a first date. He smiled and told me about how his morning had been so far. How he too had been on some bad bar dates and understood wanting to meet in the daylight.
I felt at ease to be completely honest. Alex was easy to talk to. He had a nice smile with shiny white teeth. He wore casual clothing and was an elementary school teacher. And I mean, who was nicer and easier to get along with than someone who teaches small children?
“How long have you been in the city?” he asked me.
“For three years now. Moved here from Indiana and I don’t think I’ll ever go back.”
“I totally get it. I moved here from California…things move to slowly there. I need the high energy and bustle.”
“I understand. Indiana is suffocating at times.”
The patio was starting to get busier as the official noon lunch hour was approaching, but we didn’t mind. Stuck in our own little world of conversations about life and work and the hilariously bad dates we had been on.
“So what do you do for fun?” He asked me.
“I like going to concerts. Movies. I try to travel a few times a year to a new place. I might drink too much wine alone in my apartment, but I won’t make that a definite trademark of my personality just yet. I love scrabble.” He was smiling with approval. “What about you?”
“I also like movies and concerts and travel. I go to the gym daily to start my day. Do you go to the gym?”
“I don’t have a gym membership. I mostly go for jogs around Central Park for exercise.”
“I see,” he said.
Something about the way his tone changed rubbed me the wrong way, but I shook it off. I was in no way out of shape, as if that should even matter. I mean I wasn’t incredibly fit like he was, but I wasn’t unfit either.
“I’ve enjoyed getting to know you today,” he said. “I think you're cute and sweet and obviously very intelligent.”
“Thank you,” I said smiling. “I have enjoyed this too.”
“I’d like to see you again, but I do think you should consider getting a gym membership. I usually only date healthy, fit guys.”
I was dumbfounded. Unable to put together a sentence in my head. Was I that out of shape? Enough that someone I had just met would feel confident to point it out to me? I mean honestly, did I care what he thought? No. But that didn’t make his statement any less appalling.
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t realize I was unhealthy and out of shape?”
“Well maybe you’re not unhealthy, but you could definitely stand to be more in shape.”
“Uh…” I tried to string words together but my brain was at a total loss. I pulled out my wallet and laid cash out on the table to pay for my meal and drink. “I, ah, I hope you have a nice rest of your day, okay?”
“Oh, I have offended you haven’t I? I mean it in a nice way I swear to you I do.”
“I’m okay actually. Thank you though,” I said and once again my eyes rolled as I walked away from another horrible date.
I pulled my phone out, and instead of only deleting Alex, I hard-pressed the app and deleted it from my phone altogether.
I woke late the next morning to a text from Jon, “What time can I pick you up for the party today?” I forgot I had committed to going. It was Sunday. I wanted to lie in bed all day.
“I can be ready in an hour,” I said knowing I could get ready in thirty minutes but needed a little more time on my pillow.
“Okay. How did your date go?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I typed and hit send.
I sat down in the shower while the hot water drowned me. I felt stupid for thinking that after almost four years of dating no one, that I could jump right in and find the love of my life. Is that even what I wanted? Maybe I was just looking for some excitement. If that was all I was trying to find, I had definitely found it.
When I got to the party full of people who were Jon’s friends but only casual acquaintances with me, I didn’t feel like socializing. I had changed my shirt at least four times that morning, and still I didn’t feel comfortable in my skin.
I sat alone in a big chair in the corner of the room and people watched. I admired how everyone seemed to feel comfortable. How everything flowed, and I wished I could just do the same.
A boy in funky blue pants and a t-shirt approached me and sat on the arm of my chair. “Hey there,” he said confidently. “What’re you doing over here all alone?”
“Oh,
