A Rehash of All My First Dates


Please stop reading this now if the thought of me ever having had sex in my life kinda makes you wanna throw up! This includes but is not limited to: my parents, my grandparents, anybody who is related to me by blood or marriage, anybody I have been in a client meeting with, my boyfriends and ex-boyfriends parents and anyone who knew any of my boyfriends as small children. I appreciate your clicks but I need you to think of me as pure and whole. Which I absolutely am. Okay, see you later!!!

Anyway.

This article is to show you that it is normal to go on lots and lots of boring, terrible, average, did-I-just-get-ghosted? dates. Like I may actually be forgetting some of the ones that I’ve gone on because I asked my best friend WHO REMEMBERS EVERYTHING AND HAS KNOWN ME SINCE PUBERTY to list the guys and she had listed some who I straight out DO NOT REMEMBER THE FACE OF EVEN A LITTLE. So. Like. Whatever. To each his own journey. I finally finally found someone who made it all worth it, and now he is my life partner, and it is extremely cool.

There was the guy in college that asked me out to a burger and malt shop on campus, and then um, we ended up getting it to go, which I paid for but details lol, and then we took it to watch him study in the library. I think I slept with him after that which pretty much lets you know where I was at mentally and spiritually circa 21 years of age.

There was a very beautiful man who asked me out after we had a good grind sesh at a German bar. I remember nothing about our date except his very large watch and that I carried our conversation so much I had to go take a ten-minute break in the bathroom and scroll on my phone while I didn’t care whatsoever whether he thought I was doing coke or taking a sh*t. We didn’t have a second date and I don’t think either of us ever texted the other again.

Then there was the guy I thought I fell in love with on a cold dark fall day on some slippery rocks by a large cold lake. I was dating a lovable jock-type when I met him and he gave me Paulo Coelho book and introduced me to Bon Iver. It was like a decade ago you guys give me a f*cking break.

One guy took me for burgers on the back of his moped and I didn’t think it was sexy at all; I was panicking that we were going to die the entire time. He was hot and funny and then he eventually told me he couldn’t get it up for sex because he missed his ex-girlfriend. Perfect! Cool. I at least had the dignity to go sleep on the couch and sneak out the back door to go home 2 hours later.

The only guy I ever asked out (you do not understand how intensely I fear rejection) showed up in dad jeans, dad shoes, and a muted lime green and baby blue plaid shirt untucked. The (coffee) date (my first and last) proceeded in a very interview-format fashion. I’m sure you can guess who asked all the questions and who gave the one-to-ten-word responses. I kept looking at the clock behind his head wondering how many minutes I had to suffer before I could leave without it being obvious how much I wanted to be LITERALLY anywhere else. I said I’d definitely go out with him again. I’ve never not texted somebody back harder. I am an asshole.

There was a first date that was at MY APARTMENT because APPARENTLY, I’m an idiot????????? Don’t do that! Like ever! You probably already know that and I’m just a DUR-DUR-DUR dumbass inviting a man I have only texted into my place of residence.

There was a first date in which we drank too much too late, and I left his apartment to make it to work by 8:00, discovered my car had been towed (at 6:45 in the morning) to which he replied via text, “Damn that sucks.”

There was a guy that thought “first date” meant “bring your friend!” and it was like, very clearly established that it was going to be a date being that we had never f*cking met and were scheduled for 7:00 at a restaurant but hey, whatever!

I dated a guy who, often when visiting my friends who lived upstairs from me in my apartment, would take his shirt off to pay the visit. I have no defense for this.

There are lots of first dates I don’t really remember. Mostly with the men I dated for awhile. Nothing against them there were just more memories with them that took their place. I do remember Erik and I’s first date because I now think love at first “hello” is kind of a thing. That and I um, went up to the wrong guy at the bar (my heart was beating out of my chest and also I suck balls at facial recognition) Oh don’t worry, I sat down and he was like “Are you looking for someone?” and I was like *smile leaves my face very quickly*. And he was very nice and whispered, “He didn’t see you and I think he’s right over there.” COOL COOL COOL COOL COOL. I love to enter dates dripping with confidence. I then proceeded to get pretty drunk, insist on packing a bag to sleepover at his house, and then slept with him on the first date and GUESS WHAT HE STILL ENDED UP BEING MY PERSON.

Because dating rules are bullshit! You can sleep with someone on the first date (if and only if you want to), you can fall in love with someone from the internet, you can ask him/her out first, you can split the first date bill, you don’t need to play “hard to get,” you can speak your feelings – you are not “crazy” for just stating basic human emotions you’re feeling?

Now please tell me about your terrible first dates because I’m winded.


screen-shot-2016-11-29-at-4-21-00-pmLiz Welle is a professional feelings feeler but gets paid to do social and digital stuff for brands in Minneapolis while occasionally food styling on the side. She lives in Uptown with her boyfriend and their thirteen plants. She is doing her best.

 

 

  • Liz, I’m sure someone’s already filled this role, but I would love to apply to be your best friend or something. You sounds like the most awesome person ever to just chill with.

  • A) Liz – I love your essay and I echo Michaela’s sentiment about being your friend. I feel like people watching with you at a bar would be wonderful.

    B) I once went on a first date with a guy who, after the basic introductory small talk, launched into telling me his rules of dating. They included: Not initiating any texts after the first date, because “the ball was in my court”; never planning the second date, because “I should take initiative”. There were a few more, but I don’t remember them, because I was mentally preparing to interrupt him to say “my only rule is don’t date assholes”, which I did, right as I left in the middle of the date. I’m still proud of that.

  • I love this post! Thank you for writing it. It’s a reminder for those of us still in the dating game that these will be funny stories one day, and it all works out in the end. It’s important to appreciate the journey.

  • I loved reading this. I actually dated a guy for a few months and I don’t think we even ever had a “first” date because we were always with friends. Yeah, that worked out real well…

  • Date was at a zoo. He turns up with what he thinks is a messenger style bag. I call it overnight weekend bag. It was massive. He was also petite so it drowned him, but I try to be nice and look beyond this. Before zoo we stop in a pub for a drink. We’ve been in each other’s company for 10 minutes. We order beers and he tells me his shit was green that morning because of the booze rage he was on the night before. Delightful. We head to zoo. He begins to just bore me so I start walking faster to get through the exhibits to end date. I’m a couple steps ahead of him and after a while I hear a scraping of wood on the floor. His huge man bag evidently got stuck in a shop sign so he dragged it 20 feet thinking it would just untangle. At the end I shook his hand, said “well bye! Safe trip home!”. Never contacted again.

  • your blog posts are amazeballs.

    anyyyywho – it’s really hard to sum up the worst first date, because there’s just been so many of them.

    the one that is the most vivid was “The Milk Guy”. Met him at a bar while out with my friends the night before, we had some shots together and agreed to go do dinner soberly the next night. I meet him at an upscale-y place here in town and for the first 10 minutes or so, things were fine. Then our waiter came to the table to take our drink order and things went seriously south from there. FROM A DRINK ORDER. Lord, I wish I was joking. Here’s how that exchange went down:

    Him: Yes I’d like a glass of whole milk plz.
    Waiter: I am sorry, we just ran out of whole. I can bring you skim/1% or so
    Him: *immediately losing his shit* Are you F*#*$&(#&$ kidding me?! What kind of place IS this? I NEED milk with my dinner! *Throws crumpled up dollar bills at waiter* YOU ARE GOING TO GET YOUR ASS TO THE GAS STATION AND GET ME SOME MILK!

    Aaaaaand this was the point where I promptly grabbed my purse, told him this was completely insane and unacceptable behavior, and peeled out of the parking lot.

    I received a voicemail from Dude at 2:30 am later that day, but it wasn’t an actual voicemail, just a 5 minute long message of him slurring about how I had “Screwed up my only chance at the best guy out there.”

    … yep.

  • On my first date with my boyfriend, we went out to eat and then proceeded to get drunk at Kitty Cat Klub and make out at Blarney’s. I definitely had sex with him that night and do not regret it one bit. We are also still together!!! Dating rules are b.s.

  • I very much relate to the whole vein of “some people are so boring that it’s hard to remember details,” but my first boring date is still memorable if only for the laughs my friends and I shared about it later. I was a freshman in college, and he was a friend-of-a-friend (who happened to be a music major). He drove up to my dorm to pick me up and LIZ I SHIT YOU NOT the MOMENT I opened the door and heard smooth jazz playing, my gut dropped. Everything that afternoon was placid and unhurried. His expression while describing his family. His driving. His coffee order. The fact that the only music he listened to was smooth jazz or, idk, less-smooth jazz. Chunky jazz? Does it work like peanut butter?

    Anyways, we never dated again, and my friends still joke about smooth jazz being a kiss of death for me. (Not to offend any jazz lovers, I just viscerally hate anything that reminds me of being in an elevator.)

  • I eat every story up about dating, because I totally skipped this phase in my life (still happily being with my teenage crush, from an age where you still asked one another “do you want to go steady?”). It seems alien and fascinating to me. Also very awkward. And entertaining 😉

  • I was 23 and had recently moved to Austin, so naturally, I was enamored by hipsters. Or so I thought until the night I went out with one.
    He was a musician, and he picks me up wearing a bandanna and boots that are 5x more expensive than mine. He -blasts- Bob Dylan the while way, only turning it down to ask if I know who is singing Mr. Tambourine Man. Arrive at chic hole-in-the-wall French restaurant. No reservation made (date was set up a week prior). It was 8 pm. Put our name down and suggests a wine bar, where we get wine flights.
    Finally head back to restaurant @ 9:30. Discover we both like 80s fantasy movies (he’s genuinely impressed that someone else born in 85 can quote Willow — as in “Wiillllooooow”). I suggest we watch Never Ending Story at my apartment because I truly believe that we had both realized that while there was no sexual chemistry whatsoever, we should become something like friends since we had mutual friends and were bound to see each other a lot. After movie, I tell him I need to wake up in a few hours, (plus my stomach hurts from all the wine and clarified butter). He hovers at my door. After not touching me, let alone hovering in my personal space. at. all. the entire date. I graciously big him good night.
    For months after, he avoids looking at me or being near me at every party or bar. I finally sic my 20 yo roommate at him and when he asks me why, I tell him that I thought he liked girls who thought he was cool.