I Went on the Worst Date Ever So You Don't Have To

I went on a date last night.
And it was, without a doubt, the worst date ever. Not just of my own, sad life. No, this was the worst date ever, of all time, of all dates. Okay, so admittedly I wasn’t taken or murdered, which clearly would constitute the actual worst date ever but I spent about 98% of the thing wishing I were dead so I think that says a lot.

The thing is, up until this point, I thought I’d already been on the worst dates ever. Yes, dates. Plural.
One time I went on a date with a guy who spent a full hour telling me all the things I should change about myself to actually attract a man (I’m not entirely sure why he wanted to go out with me in the first place if he thought I was so awful but whatever). He tried to kiss me after. One time I went on a date with a guy who suggested we get Taco Bell for dinner (I know, I know), had me drive us there, and then didn’t even pay (or offer to pay) for my Bell. (Like, that shit is six bucks and under—if you can’t afford that, you should not be dating. Period.) He also tried to kiss me after. One time… well, you get it. I’ve been on some doozies. But this bad boy, it took the whole damn cake. And I am so ready to talk about it. Buckle up, y’all. Things are about to get rouuuuuugh.

Anyway, I sort of blame myself. The guy had a flip phone. Not that there’s anything wrong with that but… oh, who am I kidding? If you are under the age of 75 and still have a flip phone, something has gone terribly awry.And it was about to get worse.

So, we’d planned to meet at a diner near where he lived. He picked the place because I am, and always will be, a poor decision-maker. Let me reiterate, he picked the place.
I showed up. I sat down. He was late. He was really late. Finally, he called. Broski was at a completely different diner. Broski attempted to find the diner I was at. Gave up. And made me leave to find him.
I mean, it’s whatever—I’m easy-going! Things are hard to find, especially when someone has to resort to following the stars to navigate (Get. A. Smartphone.). Sadly for me, the somewhat dour diner staff was not overly pleased that a girl had sat in their establishment for over forty minutes without ordering anything. Not even a drink. I left a tip.

 

Fast forward and I’m at the second diner. We sit. And we’re off to the races.
This guy, and we’ll call him… Mike (because that is his name—sorry, sucker), apologizes for the confusion.
As I mentioned before, it’s no big deal so I say in response, “I literally could not care less. It’s totally fine.” Cool—moving on. Nope.
“What do you mean you literally could not care less? Are you saying that you may have figuratively not cared at one point?”
I HATE PEOPLE THAT DO THIS. IF YOU DO THIS, GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME RIGHT NOW BECAUSE YOU ARE A SELF-IMPORTANT DOUCHEBAG AND YOU RUIN EVERYTHING.
So, yeah, we were not off to a great start. 

Now, I could totally go through every solitary second of this date because it is seared on my brain forever like some accidental tramp stamp after a drunken night out but I don’t want to do that to you.
Instead, I’ll give you some highlights.
Enjoy.

Me: So do you like being a vegetarian?
Mike: Do people only do things they like, Meghan?
Me: Um, no. I just meant…
Mike: Because if people only do things they liked, Meghan, none of us would be very far.
Me: Right, I just meant…
Mike: Do you understand what I’m saying?
Me: Yes. Clearly you have chosen to be a vegetarian because of a set of personal beliefs therefore, by following those beliefs, and not eating meat, you’re probably sort of happy because you’re doing what you want to do.
Mike: Oh good, I knew you’d get there eventually.

 










Later…
Mike: I got a second job picking blueberries. (I mean really, why????)
Me: Oh, don’t you get really hot? Is summer your favorite season?
Mike: I don’t believe in having favorites. Having favorites is something idiots do. Why would I have a favorite when I could just tolerate everything equally?

Even later…
Mike: Are you not going to finish that?
Me: Nah, I’m pretty full.
Mike: Meghan, I will not leave until you finish your meal. I do not tolerate food waste.
Me: Well, I mean…
Mike: Eat it.
Me: No. I’ll take it home. I’ll take this one, solitary sausage home.
Mike: You cannot take it home. What if they give you a Styrofoam container? I don’t know what’s worse—Styrofoam or your selfish food waste.
Me: Well, cool, we’re in luck because I don’t give a shit about either of those things. I won’t eat it and I won’t take it home. It’s a win-win.
Mike: Look at you standing up for yourself.

 

Finally, finally it ends and Mike walks me out to my car. I am praying to everything that this man stops talking to me and leaves me alone forever because I truly have never disliked anyone more.
Not a chance.

Earlier in the night, we’d talked a little bit about ghosting (after I explained what it was—this man was a literal dinosaur. Yes, literally)—the pros and cons of it and our personal preferences.
Mike: So, what would you do if I ghosted you? I think I might.
Me: Be my guest.
Mike: You see the thing is, Meghan, I hated meeting you and I don’t ever want to see you again.*Long pause*
Mike: It’s not your fault. I just hate meeting people. You’re alright though. Maybe we could be friends? I had an okay time. I just think I would be okay never seeing you again, you know?
Me: Yep. Do you, man.
Mike: Let’s shake hands.
We shake hands.
Mike: You have a firm handshake. **Launches into forever-long diatribe about feminism. Patriarchy! Let’s take it down**
He walks away.
Turns back.
Dear Jesus above, save me from this actual living nightmare.
Mike: Let’s hug it out.
He hugs me.
Mike: Have a nice life, Meghan.
 
So, I win, right? I win the worst date ever.
I can officially take an OkCupid/Tinder/Match/eHarmony/Christian Mingle/Black People Meet/J. Date victory lap because I actually did it. I met the weirdest living human. I went on the worst date in history. And nobody died. I win. Yay?