If you haven’t read about my first date with The Tinder Regular, please catch up here!
Okay. I know Laurelhurst Park is not a bar. I wanted to go to a bar. I really did. Almost as much as I wanted to like the Tinder Regular… but sometimes life doesn’t work out as you plan.
After our second date, the Tinder Regular and I scheduled a tentative third date for the following week. I was having a small medical procedure (IUD insertion) the day prior, so I wasn’t sure if I would be feeling up to it. My extensive internet research led me to believe I would be curled in the fetal position for the following 48 hours. It wasn’t that bad, but I felt generally shitty, unsexy, and nauseous. Alcohol sounded unappealing. The only cocktail I wanted was that sweet relief of ibuprofen and Midol.
I explained this to him and he replied, “Fine. Doesn’t bother me. Let me know when you want to reschedule.” Cold. Whereas I would normally feel guilty about cancelling on a date, I felt relieved.
Fast forward a week later. I was feeling better and he was still MIA. It would have been nice to receive a “Hope you’re feeling better!” text, but I don’t need to be coddled. He probably thought I was lying, anyway. I didn’t give him much thought.
But on Saturday evening, I had a revelation. After a horrific Friday night experience at Rontom’s, I
realized remembered how terrible the dating scene is. I started thinking: “Is the Tinder Regular really that bad? Being boring isn’t the worst trait to deal with, right?”
So I texted him.
And suddenly I was knees deep in witty banter about the 4th of July. How quickly I had forgotten our original rhyming conversation! His wit was sexy and so was his recent shirtless Instagram photo. It was settled – he was great and we needed another date.
We planned to get a drink Sunday evening, but when the afternoon rolled around, I received this romantic text:
“What’s your opinion on wearing pants today? I’m not feeling it. My roommates are out of town and I think you should come over.”
Classy. Nothing puts a woman in the mood like being treated like delivery Chinese food.
I quickly shot him down and suggested a bar. He said he didn’t feel like drinking. It was a gorgeous sunny Sunday so I suggested the park.
We met at Laurelhurst and spent a couple hours lounging on a blanket. We were both in coordinating red, white, and blue. I had my water bottle filled with whisky and La Croix so I was happy. I’ll admit… it was a perfectly adorable July date. If only he hadn’t been so goddamned boring!
For the majority of the conversation, we talked about taxes. Seriously. The only other highlight was when I brought up Snapchat and he said he only uses it for dick pics. I thought he was kidding. He wasn’t. “I only have a handful of friends on there – mostly ex girlfriends who asked me to send them dick pics. I don’t see the point otherwise.”
I frequent Laurelhurst Park, so I can attest to the annoyance of overly-PDA couples. On several occasions I’ve had to put headphones in to drown out the lip smacking of couples grinding on the grass. I can appreciate the Tinder Regular’s lack of cuddling in the park, but I can’t validate the rest of the evening.
After the sun set, we went to Sweet Hereafter. I drank more, he did not. As soon as I finished my mason jar drink, he asked where I wanted to go. He threw out suggestions, “Another bar? Yours? Mine?” It was overtly suggestive. Great! Now we’re gaining traction.
We had previously talked about vodka watermelons. They have been my 4th of July tradition for the last 3 years and I had complained about the lack of VW this year. So, in a bout of tipsy genius, I suggested, “Let’s go to the grocery and make watermelon jello shots!”
He surprisingly agreed. We had a quaint grocery trip and he even carried the watermelon for me! Luckily I had the sneaking suspicion that he would come over, so I had cleaned my apartment beforehand.
We made the vodka watermelon together, except I didn’t have vodka, so it was a rum watermelon! It only took about an hour to assemble… including the
lil’ big makeout break we took in the middle.
It seemed like everything was moving in one direction, until he looked at his phone and said, “Well, my bus is coming soon so I’d better get going.”
Whoa. Is this a repeat of The Garbage Man? What is it about my apartment that makes men want to GTFO?
I’m not one to play games or beg. He wanted to go, so I let him go. I walked him to the door and he kissed me goodbye. No followup goodnight text or anything.
As written in the Date #2 post, I was going to give the Tinder Regular another chance… and he blew it. So many mixed signals! How is it logical to invite a woman over for sex, but then leave when the opportunity arises? Is he shy? Is he disinterested? Is he confused?
This sexy little import has taken up way too much of my mental energy. This is where it ends. I hereby downgrade the Tinder Regular’s rating to 1/10. The moral of this story? If you realize you’ve blocked someone’s number, don’t unblock it.
The Bro: 1/10. One point for being attractive. -9 points for being a boring tease.