Let’s take a walk down memory lane to one of my first Tinder dates. I had just moved to Portland and was finally settled in my new apartment. Being completely naive and not yet realizing that Portland “hipsters” are a dime a dozen, I was immediately enamored when I matched with an exotic gentleman with luscious curls and a nose ring. I overlooked his questionable fashion sense (tight, black, and denim) and his interesting life choices (payed $200 rent by living in his friend’s closet) because he was great at making conversation and exhibiting an interest in my life. If you haven’t learned by now, I am a giant attention whore. I can listen to someone else’s life story for about 15 minutes, but the remaining 45 had better damn well be spent discussing my food preferences and why your taste buds are simply wrong.
The Bro Pros:
Exotically attractive, great hair
Seemed genuinely interested in the lives of others
Painfully sweet and innocent
Didn’t drink for personal reasons – is this is a pro or con?
Had a bizarre sense of style, but it’s better than no style at all
Enough balls to sing karaoke sober
Smelled really, really great
Being new to the tinder game, I suggested we do a “group hang.” Groan. I told him to invite his friends to the asian restaurant-turned karaoke bar named Double Dragon… and I would reciprocally invite mine. Little did I know, Double Dragon is TINY. It is located on Division across from Apex, but there is a serious lack of space. It is an exaggerated L shape with the base being mostly occupied by the bar. They position the karaoke in he 90 degree angle of the bar and then additional booth seating is located in the back. It was jam packed for a Saturday night – standing room only. I should throw in the fun fact that my friend and I had to walk 30 blocks in the pouring rain to get to this bar… so we looked like animals. Tex-Mex Fabio was already there when we arrived and I awkwardly hugged him and said “hi!” before I urgently dashed off to the restroom. We found him again and he had reserved a table for us, along with his two sidekick friends he invited.
We went to the bar to order shots when he abruptly told me that he didn’t drink. Okay. Interesting. Not something I can deal with. We proceeded to drink and my friend handled his buds like a pro, giving me plenty of one-on-one conversation with Tex-Mex Fabio. His choice of attire was bizarre. He was wearing the stereotypical skinny jeans, cuffed at the bottoms, with pointy cowboy boots. He also had a denim button-down shirt on, except only the bottom three buttons were closed, leaving the upper half of his hairy chest obscenely exposed. The kicker? He was wearing a bolo tie… as a necklace… UNDER his collar. A true Portland fashion idol. He probably has his own line at Buffalo Exchange by now.
The Bar Pros:
Great location on Division
Really cool landscaping and front wall of windows
Crowd seemed young and a midrange between yuppie and suburban
Shots were decently priced
Lame 1 bathroom stall set-up
Insanely crowded during weekend nights, but always looks dead during the day
We finally worked up the nerve to sing karaoke. I sang my go-to: I’m on a Boat. He sang No Doubt’s “Just a Girl” which was an impressive feat for someone completely sober. The rest of the evening was a blur, except for the awkward moment when he told me “You’re taller than I expected, but lucky for you, I am into tall blondes.” Phew. I was so worried he was going to reject me and I’d never be lucky enough to stroke his effervescent chest hair!
The “group hang” ended with him giving me a ride home (benefits of sobriety!), but not before his friend spray painted the side of a building. Tagging has always been one of my favorite date activities, after all. The most peculiar moment of the night occurred when I was unlocking my front door. His extremely drunk friend shouted out the window at me, “HE JUST SAID YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL AND HE WANTS TO SEE YOU AGAIN!” I chuckled and suddenly the tires screeched and they vanished into the misty Portland haze.
Cut to a week or two later when I received a text from Tex-Mex himself: “Hey I want to see you again. This time a real date.” I agreed, I can appreciate directness. I asked where he wanted to go and he suggested “This great ethic place by my house. I know you love unique food. It’ll be my pleasure.” I asked what time and we agreed on the upcoming weekend. A typical pre-date conversation. Saturday rolls around, the day of our date, and he never contacts me. To be honest, I’ve lost quite a bit of interest, but would still have given him the benefit of the doubt and shown up… but he never told me a time or a place. Like so many scheduled Trimet busses, our date simply never came.
I have seen him cycle through my Tinder queue no fewer than 5 times. Each with a different name and selfie. I’m not sure if he is conducting a social experience on stereotypes and I was just another source of content for his blog (ironic) but we never spoke again.
Things I learned from this date:
1. Group hangs are not dates
2. Drinking is as necessary as being over 6′ tall
3. Don’t associate with someone who lives in a closet – literally, not figuratively