As a new feature, I’m reliving the stories of my top 5 worst/funniest/best-date-story stories. Here’s #3:
Exactly two years ago, I was taking my first foray into the rabbit hole that is Tinder. One mutual “love” was a 26 year old Puerto Rican military guy. We chatted on the app, exchanged phone numbers after an appropriate amount of commonalities, proceeded to text, then talk on the phone. We agreed to meet over drinks after work.
Right off the bat, in rapid-style, he gave me a 15-question inquisition about my job, my family, my hobbies. Tired from all the answering, lightning fire, I threw the question: What do you do for a living? at him. After a few moments of silence, he answered that he’s trying to think of a way to not scare me. Mafia? Mob? Hit man? I guessed.
I probed a bit further, “Can you tell me in like a summary? Just a few words?”
“I’m thinking!” he screeched.
More silence. Then more yelling, “I don’t want to tell you too much. I don’t know you! Why would I share personal information with someone I just met?!”
“Um…because we’re on a first date and that’s what you do…share information about ourselves. But, you know, whatever, tell me what you want.”
“Fine,” he answered. “If you ever did anything bad, you wouldn’t want to see me…”
In my head only, of course, I guess, “Dog the Bounty Hunter!!”
He loosened up after a few minutes and, for the most part, we had an enjoyable conversation. It was fun enough to agree to a second meeting. Maybe he was just nervous at the get-go??
Then…all hell broke loose. All smiles, I said, “It’s a good thing I told you to be open at the beginning; we’ve had fun!” More silence. I’ve learned what that means by now…
“Who do you think I was for the last hour? Do you think I was faking it?! I’m genuine! How rude of you to think differently!!!” He is yelling. I am cowering, highly embarrassed because we’re in public and I don’t know this (throw in your own expletives here).
I whispered that he was making me uncomfortable and pulled date #2 off the table. More yelling. More uncomfortableness. The god-sent bill finally arrived. He told me to give him a card to pay half. I happily obliged. Get me the hell outta here. There was no talking during bill time. Then he looked up (seriously, this was the best part of the whole night…) and said…”What’s your favorite animal???”
“Uh, um, I don’t understand…”
He bellowed, “I’m just trying to change the subject!”
When we finally arrived at the train station, he jutted out his hand for a shake, then told me to let him know when I got home. Before I could run away down the stairs, he exclaimed, “Military police…”