One of the first guys I shared my new single status with was Bobby. 25. Financial Advisor.
We met over the summer at a Dos Equis event, where I found out that he was friends with a kid I went to high school with. He and I somewhat kept in touch since. A text, Facebook wall post here and there. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but knew a little about each other. When I told him I was single, he said he was both happy and sad. Happy that I was back on the market, but sad for me about how the situation went down. Our Gchats got more and more flirtatious by the day until he asked me out and we set a date… Friday, November 13th. I remember the date because I made a joke to the effect of, “Ooh… Friday the 13th! Scary! Hope it’s not the date from hell.”
It was the date from hell… and the date never even happened.
Originally, Bobby suggested that we go to the gym together. Nothing about me says gym or fitness, so I suggested we do something more orthodox like a movie date. His comeback was, “I figured we could get a good workout in together. You can watch my six-pack greaten and then we can relax in the hot tub.” Hot tub? Did I sign up for a season of Who Wants to Bed Bobby? I texted one of my guy friends who, ever the straight shooter said, “Yeah, he’s looking to f**k.” My idea of a first date included me being fully clothed and staying that way. Well then. He could see that I was not backing down from us going to the movies, so he made me an offer one better. He told me that we would go out Friday and for me to leave everything up to him. All I had to do was be dressed and ready to have a great night. I agreed and our date was set. We had a whole week to become less of strangers and more familiar. Thank God for that week.
Bobby’s conversations became increasingly self-centered to where we mostly talked about him and his clothes. He gushed about a pair of loafers he bought during his lunch break. He sent me links to shoes and clothes when he asked, “Are you a label whore?” Ugh. I rolled my eyes so hard, I got a headache. Anyone who knows me knows I am not impressed by material possessions. Like any sane person, I do like nice things but I don’t feel the need to parade them around. For giggles, I replied to him, “Why? Because I have a Ulysse?” And of course, he had no clue what I was talking about. (In case you’re wondering, the Ulysse is an Hermes notebook.) He rattled off all the designers he was wearing at the moment… so unattractive. More eye rolling. At this point, I’m completely uninterested in the conversation and less interested in him but I figure that he might be less obnoxious in person so I didn’t cross him off. I tried to change the subject from his massive closet asking what he felt his best physical traits were. I expected him to say his height (6′ 3″) or his chiseled jaw. Nope. This fool said his abs and his, wait for it… PENIS. Ridiculous. That conversation ended right there with me giving him serious side eye via Gchat. That was the last time we’ve spoken.
The day before our date, I heard nothing from him. I sent him a text that night asking if we were still on for Friday. No news. I knew the date wasn’t happening, so I did myself one better and went out for Korean with my cousin. The first thing she asked was why I wasn’t out with Bobby. When I explained that he never called or responded to my text, she suggested that maybe something had happened and that I should follow-up with him the next day.
Follow-up? What was this, a job interview? Nothing had happened to Bobby, I knew he was alive and well. That Monday he was there on my contacts list with a green light and I deleted him. I wasn’t upset that he stood me up, but that he was such a punk about it. But what do I know? Maybe he was hospitalized due to a tragic shoe shopping incident? How insensitive of me…
I swear there’s a factory somewhere making these douches.
Watch his abs greaten?!! Hot tub??!! GTFOH!! LMAOOOO