Not everyone has been on a great date, but we've all definitely been on bad ones. Ones that were so bad, they left a sour taste in our mouths for the place we had the date at. This is a story about one of those dates.
Accepting this "date" at Hi-Tops was a terrible idea--as it was barely a date at all--but I was going through a dating drought, so it is what it is.
I met this guy on a Big 10 bar crawl and had been talking to him for a couple of weeks. But he never actually asked me to hang out. So when he calls me at 10 a.m. one morning to see if I wanted to watch the Michigan State game at a bar with him, I hesitantly agree while wondering if he was an alcoholic and also feeling confused (and judgmental) about his Michigan State allegiance. (He went to Purdue, and I am an Indiana University alumna.) But I do love day drinking, so game on.
The first clue that I should have run in the other direction: He has me meet him at the bar because he is already there. Second clue: All of his friends are with him. Seriously, every single one he has, I think. Third clue: He offers me drugs, because he had done them the night before and didn't want me to feel left out. (Thoughtful!)
I politely decline the drug offer and try to come up with reasons why I need to leave immediately. But before I have time to finish concocting a story about how my building manager had called because my cat had climbed out the window and was standing on the ledge about to jump, I feel a strange sensation on my feet.
It was vomit.
While I was furiously texting friends about my situation, my date had been "iced" by his friends. So even though he can handle doing drugs all night and chugging vodka sodas for breakfast, he cannot handle a Smirnoff Ice. This works out well for me as a "Get Out of Date Free" card, but I am so disappointed in myself. How could I have hung out with such an amateur? I obviously never spoke to him again.
(Editor's note: Lee is a woman.)
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