rant post is inspired by an interesting experience I had yesterday.
I don’t really know where exactly to begin. Firstly, I’ve always felt that if someone really wanted to take me out that they would pick up the phone and do that thing phones were invented for – calling. Remember that? Where you hold it up to the side of your face and speak into it? That.
B texted me. A week ago. I have known B for just over two years – we studied together, and while we were in different classes, we ran into eachother around campus a lot and he was always very friendly. I had a boyfriend (who became fiance – at B’s party – who then became husband who is now ex), he had a girlfriend (who is now ex). We often exchanged friendly texts over the past several months, but the “I was wondering if you’d be interested in having dinner sometime. Like, a date” text kind of threw me for a loop.
I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in that my number is long-distance for him to call.
Next on the agenda: Chivalry. Generally speaking, man picks up woman for date. Being a modern woman who lives in the country and he being a man with no car living in the city (public transit and the opportunity to walk – how I miss thee), I drove the 90-minute drive in for our “date” for a few reasons: the first being that all manner of entertainment (restaurants, movies, parks etc.) can be found in the city. The second being that the plan was meant to be dinner and a movie. The third being that I never, ever get to go out solo – single mom out on the town is pretty exciting.
I arrived at his house and he invited me in to give me a tour. It was beautiful. His roommate is a recently-single 31-year-old who decided to offput his bills by bringing in some renters. He’s also incredibly handsome and probably would have actually had a plan in place if he was taking a girl on a date. Post-tour of the house, B went and sat on the couch and turned on the TV. I stood awkwardly, and he motioned for me to sit with him.
“So, what do you want to do today then?” were the next words out of his mouth. I sat there like a total idiot staring at him. REALLY? I did a quick recap of what I had obviously mistakenly thought we had agreed upon… early dinner and early show at the movies so I could be off the road before it was too late – I did drive 90 minutes, people. He then said he wasn’t really hungry, and suggested we watch Dodgeball. *Sigh*
At the end of the movie, he decided that he was hungry, so we went for dinner. It was past 5:00, and the movie began at 6:30, so there was really no way that was going to workout. We went to a restaurant and I thoroughly enjoyed the food, the conversation and the atmosphere. To kill a bit of time and walk off the wine and pasta from the meal, we walked around the mall and caught up on all that had happened since we were studying together.
Then he suggested we skip the late movie – it started at 9:00 – to go back to his place, after stopping at the liquour store to pick up a bottle of wine. When I politely declined on the wine, he looked at me like a crazy person. “I have to drive home tonight,” I explained, and he looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “You’re driving home tonight? You know, you could have stayed over. I cleaned my room for you!”
WHAT? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
He then laughed and made like it was all a joke, and I awkwardly laughed it off too. Since it was still early, when I drove him back to his place, I agreed to come in and watch the Big Bang Theory – I do love Sheldon and Leonard. Instead, we wound up watching 21 Jump Street and I drooled over Channing Tatum and then, all of a sudden, he leaned in and kissed me. It started out like the standard cute, first kiss. Then it turned into the type of makeout session that you had in high school only with one thing missing: a spark. He stood up a few minutes post-makeout and explained that he would “behave himself” on the first date, but “look out on the second date”. Ugh, please.
A few minutes later I invented a reason to duck out and explained that I really needed to get home. He then asked me to drive him to a bar to meet up with his roommate and his roommate’s friends. Um, OK. When I dropped him off, after he had gone upstairs and changed, he told me how much he’d enjoyed the evening and that I “had to” let him know when I was in the city again. I thanked him, wished him a good night and drove away.
Do I really want to date? I mean, really want to date?
In his defense, aside from the fact that the whole night seemed more like what I would have enjoyed with a boyfriend I had in high school, I enjoyed his company. But I also got the sense that he was trying to replace his ex-girlfriend with me through little hints, and the general playing-out of the night. That was bad enough. The deal breaker? He really expected that I was going to stay, that we were going to have sex, and I think ultimately, that we are going to have a serious relationship.
Once upon a time, I might have stayed. I’m no prude – I’ve slept over on the first date before, but nothing good ever comes of a relationship that begins that way and I had to learn it the hard way. I have realized, however, that in the few dates I have gone on since John and I split up that every guy expected me to sleep with him right off the bat – and that genuinely pisses me off.
Yes, I am a young single mother. No, I’m not a slut. I married my son’s father – things didn’t work out. Don’t assume that I entered into motherhood because of a drunken night with some guy I barely knew. Don’t assume that, just because I’ve accepted a date with you, that I want you to be Finn’s dad or my new protector. I don’t need that, and neither does Finn.
Dating Fail. *Sigh* Better luck next time, maybe?