Posted on September 2, 2017
A second date, I actually went on a second date. Not only does that mean that a guy thought I was nice enough to see again, it also means that for once, I hadn’t written off a guy in less than an hour – or like, a minute, if I’m being honest here. We texted for a few days straight and he was so funny, he seemed smart ànd he was a rower dedicated to his sports; I liked him – super low key, and I mean ‘like’ as in ‘didn’t really dislike him’. When Wednesday arrived, I was actually a little bit nervous. He had built up a great reputation for himself over text, would he be able to maintain that in real life?
We met at Newtown station and started strolling around. We had just had a ‘Tell Your Best Joke’-competition at work and when I told him the winning one, he didn’t even like it. This guy doesn’t like lame jokes? That’s a bad sign – I practically communicate in terrible puns and ridiculous jokes. Anyway, we arrived at this dingy looking sushi place that had zero date worthy vibes and ordered some sushi. The conversation was flowing and pretty funny, but we seemed to keep getting stuck at Harry Potter as our main topic. I started to feel like that might be the only thing we had in common.
When the bill came, I had no intention of picking it up, I’ll be honest about that. Not because I feel like boys should always pay for a date, but because I had literally eaten about a quarter of the dish. He had ordered extra soup, whereas I had had only a few pieces of sushi. I made a half-ass attempt of getting my wallet out of my bag, and he seemed to think I was actually going to pay. It was an awkwardly long struggle for him to just tap his card, and when I said I would buy him a drink later, he suggested I could also just give him the cash money for the food. He actually suggested I should give him the $8 for the sushi I had? I can’t even.
We then took a little walk to a nice bar down the road. Since he doesn’t drink, and I hardly drink, I just bought us some soft drinks. Mind you, in hindsight, I could have done with a shot of tequila. I really respected him for not drinking. I thought he didn’t drink because he obviously wanted to invest in his career as a professional athlete. Now I think it’s because he’s literally incapable of drinking one glass without starting a massive binge.
I told you about his frat boy-y stories, and over the course of the evening, he started telling me more. He had already admitted on the first date that he had done some stupid shit while intoxicated, and although that normally would be a major turn-off for me, I had still decided to give him another chance. Hearing new stories being added to the list, or hearing the old ones again, I decided this was not my kind of guy. He once got so black-out drunk he thought it was a good idea to go swimming in a lake in New-Zealand. In the middle of the night. In Winter. He once had alcohol poisoning in China and was lucky to be plucked off the streets by a kind stranger, or he could have possibly died there on the spot. He once got so drunk, he punched a mirror. He kept losing his phone, wallet, passport, because he always drank too much. I can’t even #2.
When we started talking about his rowing – which was when those stories gradually started coming up again – he told me about how massive the drugs culture in sports is; since drugs is pretty much a big thing everywhere in Australia, I cannot say I was super surprised. Just disappointed, really. If you want to be a professional athlete, keeping your body fit and healthy is literally your job; why are you not respecting that? He then told me that it doesn’t matter if you test positive for recreational drugs, it’s only the performance-enhancing ones that matter. I fucking don’t (wish to) believe a word of that bullshit. Even if it is true, I don’t want to be with a guy that doesn’t respect his body or his career enough to not fucking snort coke the whole time (that is just a general statement, I don’t know if or what kind of drugs he does, I just don’t want to date a guy that goes around acting all cool and tough about it. That don’t impress me, boy. Read a book a day, get a degree, become a volunteer fireman, that shit impressive). It seems unnecessary for me to tell you that at that point, I was ready to leave. I had promised a friend of mine to read her dissertation, and helping out a friend meant more to me than having a sad drink with this dude. Exit Laurien.
I don’t know if he picked up on the vibe that I didn’t really like him. A part of me feels like he thought I’d be going home with him that night. When I made my way for the bus stop, all I could think was ‘for the love of God, please don’t try to kiss me’. He texted me afterwards that he was watching Netflix all by himself. I didn’t answer, but in my head I was like: ‘Yeah, boy, I ain’t gonna be the one to change that.’ He had told me he got regular U DTF messages on Bumble, so I’m sure he’ll find somebody else to Netflix & Chill with.
As a final thought, I want to add that I have made the mistake of telling him about this blog. I got cocky, thought I’d only write good things about him; he could know, I didn’t/don’t care. Since I haven’t gotten a massive ‘you are a bitch’ message about the hair comment last time, I’m pretty sure he’s not keeping up with it. If you would happen to read this, dude, I wish you all the best – but the best was me, so that kinda sucks for you.
Don’t be in touch.