A Series of Unfortunate Dates: Lessons in Red Flags and Self Respect

Fuck, I forgot this one's name, so let's go with Joe. Why not? I was about 19 years old at this point, and I was out on a typical wild weekend. Pre-gaming in the car and putting those fake IDs to good use in Fort Lauderdale nightlife. I was dressed in a tight black dress that was too short and wedges that, much like me, were way too high. My friends and I were having a blast, dancing in the crowd, our bodies swaying in Living Room, a tightly packed nightclub that still existed circa 2010.

We got up on the speakers and stages around the club, shaking our bodies on those 808s without a care in the world.

Amidst the pulsating energy on the dancefloor, we were dancing within our group circle when I unexpectedly felt a pair of hands on my hips and an unfamiliar body pressed against me. I was more than happy with this new sensation.

He turned me around, and I was face-to-face with him for the first time. He was hot, about 5'10, with blondish hair and emerald green eyes. Plus, he was dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting polo shirt that showed off his abs.

I went along with it, grinding my body against his. I let my inhibitions go further when he went in for the kiss, and I reveled in it. Our tongues danced as our bodies moved together on the dance floor. It was hot, and I was really into it.

After making out and dancing, we exchanged numbers and parted ways for the night.

We spent the next few days flirting over text, hard. We were excited to get together again and go on an actual date.

The naive girl in me had some concerns, as always, but most were assuaged before our first date even happened.

Will he think I'm pretty?

Does he think I look like my picture? Better? Worse?

For once, I didn't need those thoughts popping up since we had already met; it eased some of my fears. It was much easier to flow into a natural conversation, and I knew that Joe was already attracted to me.

Right?

So, the first date started in my area; he drove down to take me out to dinner, as men should do. Upon first seeing each other, there was no awkwardness, which was a rarity. It was excellent; we spent hours talking about ourselves, getting to know each other, and learning more since little talking happened at our first meeting.

We ended the date with a sweet kiss, and future dates with him seemed promising, which had me totally excited.

The second date was odd, I went to him this time, and we decided to go to Duffy's sports bar for dinner. It was, again, a good conversation, but this time, he was acting off. He left the table on multiple occasions to take phone calls outside. He wouldn't hint at an explanation for any of it and certainly would not answer the phone anywhere near me. Red flag, a serious red flag that I should've noticed right away.

It was weird… Who was he talking to?

Why wouldn't he pick up the phone around me?

Weird, but maybe he just had some personal matters… Whatever, I'll let it go.

After dinner, we went back to his place and hung out. While watching sports in bed, one thing led to another, and we were getting hot and heavy. I was still a virgin, so I slowed it down quickly and kept it to just making out and a high school-style hand job.

He seemed a little annoyed by the end of the date regardless; he walked me downstairs to my car, pressing me up against it as he kissed me passionately.

Now, on the third date, if we can even call it that. I was excited because things were going well, despite the sketchiness of the last date. It was about 6 in the afternoon when I got a text from Joe telling me he would be around Blue Martini and asked if I would meet him there because he wanted to see me.

I was reckless and eager about love and didn't care how often I threw myself into the ringer.

I happened to be with my friend Gabby when I got the text, and for some reason, she insisted on coming to spy on my date. She thought it would be fun for her to observe, but mostly she was just bored.

We drove about 20 minutes, and I arrived 45 minutes after his initial call, under the impression that he would come around the same time.

My cherry red BMW swerved into the parking lot, and I found a space within seconds; I practically jumped out of the car, rushing excitedly to get to my date. Gabby went her way, which was across the street from the restaurant. I got to Blue Martini and found him almost immediately. However, I was bewildered when he had already had two drinks and two appetizers.

I had gotten myself ready, driven down in record time, and he was already at this point in the meal?

How is that even possible?

Despite the confusion, I sat down with him and asked if he was still hungry since he only had apps. He told me he wasn't hungry "but would share something if I wanted to" and ordered more drinks for himself. This date was not going well; I was pretty pissed off but tried to make the best of it since I had already gone there. I couldn't fathom what the point of inviting me was.

It was going much better after I loosened up and relaxed into the date. Sure, he was a little bit drunk, but I had convinced myself that he was fun and sweet. Clearly, I wanted to overlook the blaring red flags.

I excused myself to use the bathroom during the date. I must have been gone for maybe 5 minutes. During that time, I was hyping myself over the date and thinking about the future potential of this guy.

As I was making my way back to the table with a massive grin on my face, it fell quickly when I saw Joe's hand on the waitress and her giggling as she pulled her phone back out of his other hand.

I was mortified. Did that happen in front of my face?

He is drunk, so it isn't out of the realm of possibility.

But, what the fuck. Who does that?

Not only had I seen it, but my fears were validated when Gabby texted me about seeing the entire thing from her spot across the street… I guess her coming wasn't the worst idea in the world.

I was on the verge of hyperventilating - Who does that shit? I thought things were going well.

I had no idea what to do with my thoughts or what I saw, so I pretended I didn't see it.

Joe kept taking down drinks and progressively got more drunk as time passed. Meanwhile, I had to hold back a grimace as the thought loops kept going off in my mind. I wanted this date to be over already. I swallowed down the food we ordered and the drinks in front of me faster than The Flash.

The millisecond we finished eating, I shot the same waitress a dirty look and asked for the check. She brought it to our table, her hand staying a little too long on the table and her eyes lingering at my date an uncomfortable amount. Neither of them had any shame I was sitting right there, for fucks sake.

At least pretend to give a shit.

They didn't.

Now quick recap: he texted me at the last minute to go on a date; I arrived in record time, and he was drunk and full by the time I arrived. He then hit on the waitress and exchanged numbers with her while I was in the bathroom and flirted as the check came, right in front of my face. This couldn't get any worse.

Why do people ever think that? It feels like every time someone utters the words "things can't get any worse," the world goes out of its way to prove you wrong.

All of a sudden, it was time to pay. The bill was well over $100, and my part was $20 at most. I watched as he pretended to check his pockets for money or his wallet. His blank expression told me all I needed to know as he searched for it.

He apparently had forgotten his wallet somewhere. Now I somehow got stuck with this huge bill and a drunk asshole. I was beyond pissed off.

I begrudgingly paid the bill because we faced no other choice, and as soon as she brought it back, I signed and stood up. He leaned in close to me and tried to kiss me as we parted ways, but I pushed him away and turned around without a word.

I met Gabby in the parking lot, and we started gossiping about the date's events. We were disgusted but also couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Surprisingly, he texted me just a few minutes after we left.

"Hey, are you mad about something? You acted weird when you left."

I couldn't believe the fucking nerve. Was I mad about something? Fuck yes, I was mad about something. I was very fucking mad.

I would be justified in thinking that he didn't forget his wallet or simply asked on that date because he realized he had forgotten his wallet and couldn't pay for the meal and lured me there under the pretense of a date just to have me pay.

Who dares to ask a question like that after a night like that? So, I un-fucking-loaded everything into a text back to him. About the waitress, the sketchiness of both dates, forgetting his wallet, and anything else I could think of now.

He tried to give me some half-assed apology and asked for another chance to make it up.

I told him to go fuck himself.

You would be correct if you guessed I never saw or spoke to this asshole again.