Last night I went on a Tinder date. Yes I’m on Tinder. No I do not use it for hook-ups…I’m way too old for that! It was a “first date” I suppose…I mean if it’s the first time you’ve met would you actually call it a date? I feel like dating has become this giant question mark. But anyway, back to the original story…He and I were talking about our most interesting dates. And it brought to mind one particularly weird date I had years ago.
I was 22 or 23 at the time. I hadn’t been in Dallas for very long. I was on Match and found a guy that seemed cool. He asked me to meet him at The Londoner in Addison. Good start with the location selection. At the time I was working in an office that was full of men. I mentioned at work that I had a date and where we were going.
Me and “3 Strikes” sat down and began talking. The conversation was the normal blind date type stuff – “where are you from”, “what’s your family like”, “what kind of things do you enjoy doing”. At one point he mentioned that he enjoyed a 6-pack of beer every night. I laughed and pointed out he said every night thinking maybe it was an exaggeration. No, no it wasn’t. He seriously enjoyed a 6-pack a day. That’s what you would call “Strike 1”.
At that point I was very aware that this was going no where but I like to think that even in the worst situations you can learn from things and people. So we continue talking. Later he mentions that he likes to go to Winstar and Shreveport to gamble. Alright cool…I like a little blackjack and poker sometimes. Then he begins to talk about how much he has lost while gambling…it was a lot! I mean, I don’t know he was able to afford to live with all the money he lost! I asked why he still gambled knowing how much he has lost. His response “one day I’ll hit it big and I’ll be able to quit working.” STRIKE 2!
At this point I’m ready to call it quits and leave. As I start to bring it up, I see 4 people walk in behind in a single-filed line…they look familiar. I look again. It’s my three bosses and one of my co-workers. It was not okay. I just wanted to leave but if I left right after they all walked in that would be weird. So I attempt to finish out the date. Surely it can’t get worse right? Well…he tore right through that theory. He say something about smoking. When I didn’t give him the reaction he was expecting he says, “you know I’m talking about pot right?” No, no I didn’t. And I think we are done. He offers to walk me to my car. I turn it down and tell him I’m meeting friends that were already there.
He left, I sat and recounted the entire thing to my co-wokers. “3 Strikes” and I never spoke again and I live happily ever after.