Dear Boy I Went On that One Bad Date With,
I liked you, kind of. I thought you were a bit of a nerd, talking about dressing up to go see Star Wars and something about a Marvel movie with some super hero. Although it wasn’t a big deal, it seemed to be your main interest and I had a hard time understanding you. When I tried to ask questions, you gave me answers that I didn’t understand and I went with it because it was the start of the date and I wanted to give you a chance. When we spoke over text, it didn’t seem like you were into that sort of thing, so this was a bit shocking. I still have no clue what you were talking about. We both knew that there was no chance of me ever being a fan of that stuff or even beginning to understand what any of it meant. I was never destined to be a part of that world, but it seemed like you were okay with that.
You made fun of me for liking Taylor Swift and being a pop culture conformist, but we both knew you were just joking. And then you asked if I was one of those girls who hated men for no reason. I said no and you were slightly shocked. You said that every girl you went out with did nothing but give their opinions about how horrible men were and you wouldn’t be surprised if I did the same thing. I should have taken that as the first sign that this date was going down the tubes. I told you I didn’t really care about all of that, though, as long as you treated me with the same respect as I did you.
You expected me to act like every other girl you met and I wasn’t willing to do that. Honestly, I didn’t want to be like the other girls you dated. I didn’t want to stay quiet while you talked about yourself. I didn’t want the date to be all about you. I wanted it to be about us. I wanted it to be something different. I wanted you to ask me all those stereotypical questions a guy asks a girl when he likes her and vice versa. I wanted to talk about all those funny pickup lines you told me about over text. I wanted to talk to you about your taste in music and the movies you liked to watch. I wanted to ask you really stupid questions like what your favorite color was and what you thought you would do in the event of a zombie apocalypse.
Instead, you told me about some weird super hero movie you started to write that got complicated before the plot even started. You told me about that one fight you got into at that weird bar you dragged your friends to. You told me that you got really drunk and started to make fun of a guy wearing a pink shirt, who was far bigger than you. You told me you won the fight and that the guy walked out in embarrassment. I laughed and said I believed it, but if we are both being honest, you couldn’t beat anyone up. I mean c’mon, you tripped over my foot while we walked! There is no way you won that fight.
Most of the date, we barely talked about me at all! Other than asking how much I hated men and making fun of my music choices, you interrupted everything I said. And it was a slightly awkward conversation most of the date. You were too involved with yourself. My friends interrupted us several times, calling to ask if I was okay and if they needed to give me an excuse to leave. I was nice enough to stay on the date, but now that I think about it, I should have left. I should have avoided all of that awkward tension that led up to that really horrible kiss. I should have taken the sick excuse like my friends suggested and just left. I should have avoided that awkward walk going back to my dorm with you next to me telling me that you didn’t think you were the guy for me and it wasn’t because I wasn’t experienced with relationships, but you didn’t think you could handle my “personality.” Well, I’m really glad you said that, because I couldn’t handle a guy who did nothing but interrupt everything I said. Honestly, you are 21 years old—learn how to treat a girl with a little respect. Seriously, get over yourself.
A Disappointed Romantic