She's a super creep, super creep (she's super creepy)

Whether you admit to it or not, we've all Googled ourselves at some point. Maybe you've Googled yourself before a big job interview. Maybe you Google yourself when you can't sleep. But most importantly, you should give yourself a good Googling before a date.

This week, we're breaking internet stalking down two ways: Googling yourself and Googling others. 

If you're recently returning or entering the dating scene, brush up on your SEO.

Thanks, SEO Gosling.

Remember that time you took that awesome selfie for your MySpace page that had lyrics from your favorite Hawthorne Heights song? Yeah. Your date's dog just had an allergic reaction to something, and they're gonna have to "reschedule."

Know all those drunk tweets you send out about how no one but your cat understands you? Seems like that hottie from the gym must have moved out of state and switched phone numbers, because it's been a long time since they have returned your invites to spin class.

Do yourself a favor and do a search for "[First Name] + [Last Name]" and "[First Name] + [Last Name] + [City of domicile]" and maybe even sub your profession or school or workplace etc in your search terms. See what comes up. Be prepared.

Tom Hardy did not anticipate the consequences of this MySpace centerfold

Next up, ditch your last name from your Twitter and Insta handles. The last thing you need is someone creeping on your Instagram photos for the next three years and commenting "Coulda been us but you playin'" when you 'gram your next beau.

If you really want to get snazzy, get down with original content for your dating profiles. Reverse Google Image Search will be your best friend when creepin' on prospective mates. Get ahead of the curve by taking some pictures that are OKC and Tinder exclusive. Good luck reverse searching me then, chumps!

 

I am an unabashed lover of research. I'm an academic. And I feel like some human intelligence collection is necessary before a first date. And now, I share with you, my standard operating procedure for conducting a pre-date review:

1. The reverse Google image search of OkCupid profile photos. 

2. The OkCupid username search (lawlz at folks that use the same username on OKC and Twitter)

3. If from Tinder, the first name/city search in Facebook.

4. The Google of first name (and all variations of it) with last name, occupation, location, alma mater.

Without a full legal name, step four can be daunting, but if you can glean their alma mater, their major, their line of business, their club activities, etc from conversation, you can mix a good search a query together. 

Keep in mind that Google is my last resort. A few tweets or your 'Likes' on Facebook or your 10,000 nude selfies on Instagram are usually enough to give me an idea of what to expect and whether to bail. 

There's no shame in searching, friends. Do it. Live by it. EMBRACE YOUR INNER SEO. Get those H1 tabs in check and hold on tight to your GA Real-Time dashboard, because this just got real. 

Sweetest search returns,

Fearless Leader.

It's a Small World After All: Week in Review

Hi, friends. After a long Memorial Day weekend out of town with family, this lady came back with full of WTCBA gusto. This post gets extra interesting because multiple aforementioned Bs are now familiar with the blog. If you're reading this, hi, boys!

I don't know about you folks, but every time I come across a coworker on either OkCupid or Tinder, after carefully reviewing their profile for every amusing detail, I promptly swipe left. I'd rather not complicate my work with life, nor my life with work. What's more difficult to avoid, however, is meeting someone online who is good friends with a coworker.

---

Thursday

Peter* and I started chatting through OkCupid and arranged a date for last Thursday at the Edgewater Lounge, a neighborhood dive bar with a patio. He dropped his last name before we met, and I did what just about any crazy stalker curious person would do: Facebook creep. “Weird, Peter and I have two mutual friends! Huh, one is a coworker, and one is an old roommate from college.” Otherwise, his Facebook page was fairly private, so my creeping didn't uncover much else.

We meet, grab some beers, and sit on the patio to chat and enjoy the beautiful early summer evening. He asks where I work and I tell him. He asks if I know our mutual friend, and I have a really bad poker face. My mild Facebook creeping is revealed. (Also, he knows my old roommate through an ex). The date did go really well as we hopped dive bars the night away (additional stops were Simon's and Ollie's). More dates to transpire.

Friday

Friday night, Fearless Leader and I went on a WTCBA scouting mission. After being the lone single ladies in a crowd of dates at the Charleston, we move over to Danny's. We settle in at the bar with some shots and beers, and in walks a cute boy. Struck with a “he looks so familiar!”, I look at my recent Tinder messages and realize that this dude has to be Chris**. I message him on Tinder, and sure enough I was right. He doesn't figure out who I am initially, but eventually moseys up to the bar and says hi.

“Yeah, I'm with my friend who works with you! He was like, 'is the girl you're talking to named Elizabeth?'” Chris and my coworker went to high school together. Fearless Leader and I eventually part ways, and I proceeded to barhop along Milwaukee Ave. and get shitfaced with these guys.

Saturday

Saturday, after I slept away the bulk of my hangover, I go out for my first actual Tinder date. Kristopher** (not Kris) and I meet up, smoke a J, and get tacos. The tacos were hands down the best part of the date. Kristopher was cute enough, I suppose, but he didn't know how to stop talking even when he knew he was talking too much. He also had a total lack of self-confidence. I wasn't feeling it, and I think he could tell. We said farewell, and I went home to catch up on Game of Thrones and fall asleep on my couch.

Sunday

Sunday, I have a somewhat of a standing date with Chris** to watch the newest episode of Game of Thrones. I met him on OkCupid pretty early into my new-found singledom, and we've hung out quite a few times since. There was beer and pizza and the usual.

---

If you've been keeping count, that makes a hat-trick of Chrises following a pair of coworkers'-friends over a period of four days. As they say, when it rains, it pours. But sometimes, the raindrop maybe is BFFs with someone you work with, or have the same name as some other raindrops you know. Life is weird like that.

*Not his real name
**Real name, because there were a jillion Chrises born in the '80s.

Until next time,
Elizabeth

You may now trip the bride

Last summer, in the recent glow of being single and free, I made a concerted effort to go out on as many dates that I could trick men into taking me on.

(Tip: The key to dating is to use tom-foolery to make people think you are just as interesting, witty, confident, carefree, educated, and vivacious as your online persona is).

My MPDG, whimsical dating persona is generally a hit with the fellas, and last summer, I had the pick of the litter.

I went out for drinks. I went out for dinner. I went for walks. I had coffee.

And then, as my schedule got tight and amusement with the typical grew weary, I received an enchanting first date offer: a wedding.

In retrospect, I can see the warning sign for this date in bright, flashing letters, but at the time I found it too intriguing to pass up. In assessing the wedding date proposal, the pros outweighed the cons.

The pros:
-Open bar
-Excuse to wear cocktail dress
-Ample opportunity for dancing
-Free snacks
-Opportunity to practice alternate identities (Call me Nadia.)
-Kind of romantic, in a pukey way

The cons:
-Answering the question 'How do you know the bride and groom?' with "I don't actually know anyone here, including my own date."
-In Pilsen.
-Dodging questions of my own intentions for marriage and children while surrounded by wedded bliss
-High potential for extreme awkwardness.

Going on this date seemed worth it if for nothing but the snacks - and the guy seemed like he'd be fun too. I wrangled myself into a dress I hadn't fit into since I was 19 and hopped a cab to Pilsen, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

The hills are alive with the sound of free booze.

Fitting into that dress was the only good thing to happen that night.

1. I arrived about twenty minutes before my date. I knew not the names of the newlyweds. I didn't even know my date's last name, but saw multiple placecards that had his very common first on it. So I went outside and pretended to take a phone call.

2. My date and I did not spend equal time grooming that day. By that, I mean he looked like a mountain man, and not in the lumbersexual way. Apparently he had moved that day and had worn his dress clothes to move because he was afraid of packing his dress clothes and not being able to find them. The stank. Oh. The stank.

3. Maybe he was tired from moving, but the man did not speak. I felt less slighted when I noticed that it wasn't just me - he also wasn't acknowledging any of the friends that came over to say hello.

4. When I asked how he knew the bride and groom, he explained that they were all from the same hometown and he had followed all his friends to Chicago because he didn't want to be alone. This saddened me. So I went and got myself a gin & tonic.

I returned to my date, drink in hand, and was ready to chug it and bolt when....

DANCING STARTED.

This man did not need words - he just needed the power of the Cupid Shuffle!

He grabbed my hand with confidence.

He swung me onto the dance floor.

WHIMSY. CHARM. ELEGANCE.

And whilst spinning me into him.... my drink flew out of my hand and onto the floor.

The floor which we were sharing with such persons like the bride.

The bride who boogied down. Down. Down to the floor because she had hydroplaned on the cocktail.

Congratulations on your special day.

It was not one of my finer moments.

After profuse apology, I shook hands with my date and departed on the long cab home to the northside.

I never heard from that date again, and since that evening, I found a new appreciation for traditional, old-fashioned first dates.... Like playing whiskey planes on the beach.

More to come,

-Fearless Leader

'

That's a Dealbreaker: An Ode to Liz Lemon

As my partner in crime recently implied, our goal of finding the cute boys is often reminiscent of Sex in the City. Objectively, Carrie Bradshaw should be my idol. She writes a dating column. Her closet is what dreams are made of. She's self-deprecating. She has a roster of ex's of which I have an equivalent for nearly each. For many of my single friends, Sex in the City is the Bible and Carrie Bradshaw is Moses, carrying down the commandments of dating down from the mountain top.

And yet, despite hours spent drinking cosmos and shoving microwave popcorn in my face while looking to Carrie for guidance, I can't relate to her plight. Carrie is effortlessly charming, beautiful, insightful, well-spoken, thoughtful.. and I... I am Liz Lemon.

From our shared definition of what constitutes a workout

And our shared coping mechanisms

Our #relationshipgoals

And our favorite pastime

No fictional character has had a greater impact on my dating habits than Liz Lemon. Maybe this explains my limited success in talking to strangers, achieving awareness of someone flirting with me, and my consistently poor judgment of character, but I remain grateful for the wisdom bestowed upon me. 

And so, with her as my inspiration, I have compiled my own list of behaviors that guarantee a left-swipe on Tinder, a block on OkCupid, and an express train to Break Up City. 

That's a deal-breaker 

1.  If your man shows up to a date wearing Pokemon apparel - that's a dealbreaker.
2.  If your man only buys your drink if it's a shot of Malort - that's a dealbreaker.
3.  If your man cries on the first date - that's a dealbreaker.
4.  If your man can't tell you the last time he read a book - that's a dealbreaker.
5.  If your man's idea of cooking is putting barbecue sauce on Velveeta mac & cheese - that's a dealbreaker.
6.  If your man only makes same-day plans with you - that's a dealbreaker.
7.  If your man still has his bills paid by his parents - that's a dealbreaker. 
8.  If your man thinks a 3-day weekend trip to Cleveland is the epitome of romance - that's a dealbreaker.
9.  If your man sleeps on a bare mattress without sheets - that's a dealbreaker.
10.  If your man gives you a noogie after you express your feelings to him - that's a dealbreaker. 
    
    
    What are some of your #dealbreakers? Share yours in the comments section, and remember, if any of those situations arise, take heed of Liz Lemon's advice and
    
     

Safety First

Ladies and gents, we wouldn't be reliable dating correspondents if we didn't take a moment to address some basic safety concerns and tips that relate to dating in the "big city." Free drinks (if that ever happens) and make-outs are important, but above all what matters most is making it home safe and sound to your thirteen cats.

Threat #1: Theft

And to your phones

Simple and easy and relevant to really any public adventure in Chicago. Keep your phones in your purse, zip your purse pockets shut, and keep a firm grip on your cellular device while drunk Snapchatting your BFF on the blue line. Having your phone, wallet, or clutch yanked is a total buzzkill. 

Threat #2: The OKCupid/Tinder meet-up

 

In my experience, the best approach to meeting strangers from the Internet is to:

      A. pick a place you are well-versed with

      and

      B. pick a place in a neighborhood you are comfortable getting to. 

      and

      C. Let a friend know where you are.

If you get there early enough and it's a small, local place, it can't hurt to cue your server or bartender into the origin story of your date. I usually let the bartender know that if I order a vodka water, I need out ASAP. 

Threat #3: Emergency help

 

Hopefully, you will never need anything found below. Regardless, it's not bad to have on file.

I recommend that each lady I know download the BSafe app (for iPhone or Android.) BSafe lets you connect with friends or family members when you are in need of urgent help. Some key features include

       1. the ability to schedule fake phone calls to your cell (for a low key way to excuse yourself from a situation)

       2. location check-ins so your contacts know your whereabouts

       3. timed route tracking

       4. a very impressive emergency alert system. 

When you hit your emergency alert button, sirens on your phone go off, your cameras record and send video to your contacts, and your GPS location is tracked. Ideally, you will never, ever need this, but it is a major relief having that app at the ready.

Threat #4: Creepers

 

If you are going hard at the online dating scene, take heed of this advice: buy a burner phone with limited talk and text. This will keep your private number safe from unwanted calls, texts, dick pics, etc, and it means you can put that phone on silence whenever you need a break from the dudes of OKCupid. Second, double check how to block numbers on your cell, keep your last name on lock, and save FB/Instagram/Twitter following until you feel comfortable. The right dude won't care that you had two phone numbers or concealed your personally identifiable information. 

I wish you all a successful week in finding the cute, respectful, not-creepy boys. Godspeed.

-Fearless Leader

OkCupid and Gender Roles and Gifs, Oh My!

Well, friends. Here's the long-awaited first post from the fourth contributor to WTCBA. I'm the roommate who helped spawn this whole thing, as referenced in the very first post from our Fearless Leader. As she alluded, I am freshly out of a LTR. Scouring the city of Chicago and the bowels of OkCupid for cute boys is my new modus operandi. It's weird and I have no idea WTF I'm doing or even WTF I'm trying to get out of this, but here I am and here goes my dignity, so whatev. I wasn't using it for anything anyway.  So I embark on my first blog post as I sit on my back porch, drinking a cosmo and smoking a cigarette and being all Sex and the City-like.

Like this, but lonelier.

Ladies, let me tell ya - we have so many misguided bits of dating wisdom thrown at us all the time. Thanks to our Fearless Leader, WTCBA readers should know well enough now that the old mantra of "putting yourself out there = cute boys asking for your number" is a blatant lie. There's still the pervasive image of men pursuing while women are pursued, but just going to a bar and being attractive in the presence of single men doesn't typically lead to much.

Here is another lie about gender dynamics constantly shoved down our throats, and my anecdotal counter-evidence since I've been back in "the game" (ugh, I hate calling it that). I also hate generalizing, so YMMV.

Women are relationship-driven. Men are sex-driven.

Let me tell you about Jim (not his real name).

Origin: OkCupid
Age: 25
Occupation: Student
Match Percent: 95

Jim was one of my first dates post-breakup. He was tall and goofy and liked good music and was a generally cool dude. We went to Guthrie's Tavern for beer and board games. I drank some Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale and beat the shit out of him at Scrabble. Overall a fun time at a good first-date bar.

We go back to his place, watch Arrested Development, drink more, and you can guess where it goes.

This is where it went.

Before the date even ended, Jim threw out the lesser L Word ("I really like you").  I was a little taken aback, but he was nice enough and fun enough so I agreed to go out with him again. Before we get to date number two, he invited me to meet all of his friends the very next weekend. I got a little scared and told him that I'm not looking for anything serious, and I even told him that I was super fresh out of a LTR (even noting that said LTR was three years long). He seemed understanding.

Date two was a movie date, and for the duration, he held my sweaty hand with his sweaty hand. I wanted to say "Dude, stop holding my hand and just make out with me or something." After the movie, we're walking along. He told me the invitation to meet his friends still stood, and was generally very relationship-y. Which I specifically told him I didn't want. Jim's response? "I'd rather have things be the way they are than not be with you at all."

I just couldn't.

I guess I did learn to better set some boundaries before someone gets comfortable with what they think I want.

Let's be real, dudes.

My takeaway for you ladies looking for cute boys is to just do your thang the way you do. Whether you're pursuing or being pursued, and whether you're forging physical connections or emotional ones, you do you.

Until next time,
Elizabeth

Hey girl, you remind me of Robocop

Tonight, we bring you some of the best and brightest of OkCupid in recent days. A little mood music, shall we?

Let's jump right into the juicy stuff:

Cheap Beer Man: if I don't reply to your first three messages (which had been deleted), then I probably won't respond to the next two. But thank you for the brilliant revelation that cheap beer might not be the best beer.

Do you have a mind blowing question for me, sir? You seem to be questioning whether or not you have a question for me. Also, your use of the question mark emoji is intense and makes me fear what kind of question this will be... Deleted.

If he is asking what I think he is asking...

UPDATE AS OF 5/7:

This delightful young man was not pleased that I did not divulge my mileage. The magical, whimsical world of online dating. I wonder how often that line works for him.

Maybe you do things differently in Australia and maybe I'm a bit of a grammar purist, but I can be a bit judgmental about adding extra letters to words. #nojudgment #actuallyallofthejudgment Secondly, I find your entrance interview demanding and uncreative. Go straight to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect any of my personal information.


And lastly.... the winner of this week's inbox challenge:
















This 21-year-old child gets points for creativity but loses points for calling Josh Lyman "the guy from West Wing." An extra decade and more commanding knowledge of Sorkin, and you might have stood a chance, young sir.



A closing thought: a majority of these messages failed to pass through my message filters. OkCupid should do these boys a solid and let them know that A.) I can't see these terrible messages from the OkCupid app and  B.) There is automatic judgment (see what I did there?) on you not passing the filter. Be kind, OKC, and warn them of their imminent failure. 

WTCBA: Week in Review

It was a mild but groundbreaking over here at #WTCBA. Let's review.

The 'Where the Cute Boys At' team made a triumphant return to Geeks Who Drink pub quiz at The Holiday Club. Markedly smaller crowd than the week before with an unacceptable of cute boy: me ratio (zero cute boys for every one of me). There was, however, a Backstreet Boys sing-along, so it wasn't all bad.

Thursday night we broke some ground at Vinyl, Highline, and Shamrock Club (not counting our scouting of Three Dots and Untitled - where there were zero prospects - better luck next time.)

We spent most of our time at Vinyl toying with how-old.net, where we learned that we look like 54 year men. With this sudden identity change, we ventured over to farmersonly.com to see what we could find. Thankfully, Farmers Only requires no proof of land ownership. Or identity verification. Or profile photos. Or even a username. Way to allow for open access to love, Farmers Only.

Thursday was also the test run of my new personal cards. I have yet to learn the correct finesse for distributing the cards (i.e. not panicking and accidentally dropping said personal card into a cute guy's beer), but considering I've already gotten some cute boys a' textin' from the cards, I'm calling early success.

The C in WTCBA was all about Cuties on Friday night, with our number one cutie being Ben Gibbard. Thumbs down to no one standing/dancing/singing at that concert, but thumbs up to Ben for the deep cuts from We Have the Facts and We're Voting Yes.

 Saturday night we learned to appreciate the joys of rich people and their rooftops, of PB&Js at the Boiler Room, and of indoor waterfalls at the Owl. Were the cute boys at any of these places? Nope. Or if they were, they were too much of pansies to came say hello and instead just stared from afar at Emporium. BOYS. If I can throw one of my dating cards into your beer, you can come over and say hello. Start up a conversation about how adorbz Jean Claude Van Damme used to be. Challenge me to a game of pinball. But for heaven's sake, don't just stand there. You're useless like that.

Jean Claude Van Damme would give me his number and then text me about gender roles in martial arts films.

I expect better this week, Cute Boys. Once again, we have gathered more evidence to disprove the theorem of "putting yourself out there = cute boys asking for your number." 12 bars, 1 concert, 2 parties, ZERO CUTE BOYS.

Lady Jane – Resident Taken Lady. Romantic Realist. Real nerd.

For sentimental reasons.

Welcome to the first post of the resident “taken” relationship lady – Lady Jane. I know, I can hear you booing, hissing, and puking from here.

I was a #singlelady not too long ago, but somehow, somewhere in the timeline of my life, I became a serial monogamist, despite my proclamations of “not wanting a relationship” and “just wanting to be single.” I treated guys like boomerangs – I’d throw them away immediately, but if I threw them correctly (or sometimes really incorrectly), they’d come flying back and I’d be so surprised and impressed that the boomerang actually worked like it should that I’d hold onto it with curious admiration and love until ultimately I’d run out of ways to throw that boomerang and I’d leave it in the park for someone else to play with. I suck at metaphors.

I moved back to Chicago about a year ago, after a brief stint in LA, and took a “relationship break.” I didn’t casually date much in college and I felt like it was my time to shine! And I did. I dated and had what I’d consider a healthy amount of casual encounters. I felt wanted and it made me happy (remember – stay safe!). I got to explore and build upon my sexual interests, something that had been stunted in my previous relationship(s). More on that later.

For future reference: I tend to get technical about my sexuality and romantic experiences. It’s my “sexy talk.”

This was the best "sexy science" gif I could find.

Six months into my “break” – BAM. I meet Jack*. Six months later, on the one year anniversary of my return, flash to me here writing a bragging blog post about how happy I am and how great he is and blah blah blah – because the masses love that shit, obviously. Joking aside – I am quite - well, ridiculously happy in my relationship. So far we just… work. It’s gross. I’m channeling my inner hippy and going with the flow. Double gross.

What are my goals in this blog? To share my little nuggets about dating and relationships and to assist my lady friends with Operation #wtcba. Think of me as the resident old lady who starts her blog posts with “back in my day…” or gives you an unwarranted and unwanted sex tip because she’s old and wants to enrich your life while making herself feel young again. I’m secretly 75.

That might be canon.

Goodbye for now,

Lady Jane

*Name changed because, you know, internet stuff.

WTCBA: Week in Review

Boys Boys Boys

This was a particularly successful week for Where the Cute Boys At. Let’s review:

Where were the cute boys at this week?

Holiday Club (4000 N Sheridan Rd)

Holiday Club was graced with more than one of us, more than once this week. We started off the week at Geeks Who Drink on Tuesday night. The plan was to impress all the cute boys with our knowledge, but instead we ended up with this:

"Super Smash Bros" is the new "IDK"

 A shoutout to Quiz Master Andy for asking all the cute boys to raise their hands for us. We appreciate your commitment to the cause, and you can be sure we’ll be back again.

But wait, there’s more! We returned Thursday evening for Rat Pack Comedy/Blackhawks Playoffs game. There were some cuties present at comedy night, and we even talked to one. That’s right. My confidence-lacking, introverted self went up to a cute boy and said, “hi.” After that the anxiety took over and I might have asked if he likes pickles. Strangely enough, he politely excused himself a minute later and then avoided eye contact when he left the bar. Oh well. Any man of mine needs to share my pickle enthusiasm anyway. 

At this point, suffering just enough rejection and witnessing a miserable Hawks game, it was a good time to close out tabs and head out the door. But as we switched from the back bar to the front, we were confronted with a sea* of boys. (There were three. Maybe four). We stayed, and it was well worth it. We made a new friend, we did blueberry bombs, we danced, we gave out our numbers, and we kissed some boy. Just one. SUCCESS.

The Red Line:

Shout out to all of the cute boys reading on the red line this week. Keep it literary.

Map Room:

This night went off the rails. We had a plan. We had stops to make. We had boys to find. But Map Room came with seemingly hundreds of National Geographics, some good tunes, and…. bartenders that gave us a lot of free shots. We’ll hit up the rest of Bucktown soon, but Map Room + cute bartenders + free shots is an equation for success. Special thanks to the Tamale Guy. I would not have survived the last shot of the night without you. 

A hero among men

Two observations from Friday night’s debauchery:

1. If I do a shot of Malort, it means that I am already drunk and am trying to impress you, and if I’m trying to impress you, that means I think you are cute. Cute boys of Chicago: please file that for later. If any girl voluntarily drinks a shot of that vile mosquito repellent, you better A.) Get her a glass of water and B.) marvel her beauty, grace, and charm.
2. Flirting with the bartender is an intricate game. I’m not new to this one, but generally, the cute bartender just wants to you tip well and maybe check out your butt. Keep a weather eye for cues otherwise, but you must usually prepare yourself for that awkward “it’s closing time, please leave and do not wait for me” conversation. Sometimes, however, that conversation doesn’t happen. Sometimes you may stay at the bar after close. Relish those nights. Raise a glass to your youth and take a bow. 
   
   
   
   
   That's all for now, folks. 
   
   
   Have suggestions for where to meet the cute boys? Leave your tips in the comments.

You Make a Grown Man Cry

This week, on WTCBA, we bring you the story of Dave* and invite you to listen to this Rolling Stones classic: 

Origin: OkCupid

Age: 31

Occupation: Animal care
Match Percent: 74

The story of Dave begins like a majority of OkCupid dates. A few back and forths about jobs, movies, weekends, how great alcohol is, etc. before moving onto the exchange of phone numbers and suggestion of a date.

What really distinguishes Dave from your average OkCupid date, however, was the moderately high chance that I may or may not have seen this guy on the train in February.

And possibly took a picture.

This picture.

A cute boy in the wild

He was cute. What can I say.

Anyway. It took a few runs through Dave's profile before I realized that he looked very, very similar to the man pictured above. Leading up to the date, I was placing it at a 90% chance that Serendipity had matched me with the hottie from the Red line.

Dave walked through the doors of Hopleaf and it was regretfully not the guy I had hardcore creeped on (although, he was still pretty cute). I was expecting a fantastic story to tell our grandchildren (“Nana creeped a picture of your Grandpa on the red line and got QuickMatched with him weeks later. #fate #truelove.”) Alas.

Onto some date analysis:

Conversation: Dave had memorized my profile. And not just my favorite movie or the "most private thing" about myself. No. Homie had memorized how I answered my match questions. He quoted my profile. I would say he was a Grade A Creeper, but this is coming from someone that took a picture of a cute guy on the red line, so I’m probably not allowed to judge much.

Notable quotes: "I've been smelling you all night." Was I wearing perfume? Sure. Did that make this statement less weird? HELL NO.

Financial analysis: Dave was late, so I paid for my first beer while I waited for him to show up. Once he got there and it was time for a second round, he made no motion or effort to pay for my drink. When it came to his own, he ordered the cheapest beer and tipped an aggregate sum of $1 for the four beers that he had.

Actual physical appearance v OkCupid: No smoke and mirrors on this guy. He looked like his profile, so there was no knee-jerk reaction. The 2-inch rule did apply, however. Ladies: always mentally subtract two inches from their given height. Always. And if the height is blank on their profile RUN AWAY. This means they are under 5 feet tall.

Despite having some strikes against him, Dave was overall a very nice, polite young man. He was easy enough to talk to and pretty easy on the eyes. When he offered to walk me home, I counter-offered with an invitation to play some MarioKart. (Because I know what boys like).

MarioKart never happened. As soon as we got to my place, Dave went straight to Make Out City and he was the mayor. I rolled with it, because kissing boys is one of my favorite hobbies and ranks just a hair higher than MarioKart (but not by much).

And then… perhaps 90 seconds later… it happened.

Homie burst into tears.

And I’m not talking one rogue tear. He was heaving. Sobbing. Ugly crying. There was snot.  

Why the waterworks, you ask? Blame the majesty of my right boob. His grabby little hands made impact with ole' righty, and the glory of the boob overcame him instantly. (Apparently the gentleman had never actually touched a boob he wasn't in a long-term relationship with before and he was very overwhelmed).

Needless to say, I very kindly and gently suggested that maybe it would be best if he went home and cried, which prompted a dramatic "SO YOU JUST NEVER WANT TO SEE ME AGAIN?"

Um. That is correct, sir. Now please leave. 






*Name redacted to protect Dave's fragile, fragile emotional state.