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We bonded—I too had just finished dating someone—and we continued to talk for about two hours, talking about life, New York, our careers, etc. He then continues to tell me about past dating experiences and how his ex-girlfriend gave him 'the gift of dis-satisfaction' because she was so amazing, but how he’s trying to move on..blah. We end up going to Lucky Strike in Soho where he orders a fancy bottle of wine, and proceeds to tell me that he just graduated from Columbia, won an award for ‘entrepreneur of the year,’ and is starting a clothing line. We talk for a few minutes and he asks me to write my email in one of the pages, while he looks away, and when he gets to it, he’ll email me. We part ways and I think, ‘Wow that was easy.’"Fast-forward to a week later when this guy emails me to meet up for a drink. How cool would it be to work out and go straight to work? Total creepazoid.""Over an awfully and unpleasantly forward sushi dinner near St. Which was exactly the same moment I saw the flashing lights. I had to play dumb at this point because I knew this guy was weird.)Him: 'That life, you know being a stripper, getting a discount in the gym. Same with you.' After picking up my jaw from the floor, I said a few choice words and left. '), I decided that it couldn’t get any worse and we went outside to smoke a joint. He followed me out, and walked with me for several blocks, talking about a website for meat I just had to check out.""Mardi Gras, New York City, 2008—I was on what I'd presumed at the time to be a very nice second date, with a very nice guy I'd met a couple weeks before. If a train were going 30 miles per hour, how how long would it take to get to Washington, D. After 45 minutes of this, when I politely refused a second drink, he ordered another drink anyway and proceeded to chat my ear off for over an hour, until I finally said that I needed to go and made a dash for the door.
We'd been on a respectfully sweet-'n'-romantic first date the weekend before, so I was looking forward to a mature, non-sleazy evening with my mid-thirties, microfinancing gentleman caller (we'll call him 'Steve').
Now, I have lost a parent, but it's certainly not my first date conversation.
That was the last time he was quiet—for the rest of the date, all he did was talk about his dead parents (how they died, when they died, how he couldn’t be sympathetic to family members because he’s the one who lost the parent, etc.), and how I made more money than him (not that he knew how much money I earn).
' To which he replied, 'I told her I was at my high-school basketball game' (!!! All I could do was laugh and tell him that we very quickly needed to part ways.
' He looked at me and said, 'I’m a sophomore in high school.' I guessed he was about 16-years-old... He told me he still would like to be friends, and I quickly said, 'Where the hell does your mom think you are right now?!