Lessons Learned

First Date

Pre-date Makeout

Everyone's absurd and ridiculous dating life has to start somewhere. The summer after I graduated college, my good college friend, Stephen, came back to New York to visit friends and family. Per the usual craziness, it was a 'must go out' evening. My college girlfriends and I met him and his boys out on the town.

Several bottles of vodka later...I found myself making out in the corner with his friend Mark*. Mark aggressively and unsuccessfully tried to get me to go home with him, but got my number instead. Several text messages later, Mark and I were going on our first date.

Pre-date

It was a hot, soupy summer night. I was so nervous; it was my first real date! He suggested going to Supper, which my friends had raved about, so I was looking forward to it. These same brilliant, wonderful friends, also suggested I have a glass of wine before my date, to calm the nerves. So I poured myself a glass (big enough to hold about a half bottle of wine) as I slipped on my adorable, purple Ella Moss dress.


Mark had suggested to first meet at his apartment, I assumed for a pre-dinner drink. As I tried to get a cab, somewhere between the swampy weather and my heels stumbling down 2nd ave, I realized I was no longer sober.

Date

As I walked up the stairs to his place, I realized he was just locking up his apartment. No drinks, no chatting -- he just wanted us to head downtown together. I didn't blink, I didn't care, I didn't know what was normal! I was OK with what was going on. (Side note: I later learned that you NEVER go to the guy's apartment first, you meet AT the restaurant/bar/whatever spot so it's convenient for everyone.) We proceed with our date and head downtown to Supper.

Upon arrival, there was a few minutes waiting time, so we head to the bar for a glass of wine. By the time we sat down, I was drunk. This somewhat made up for the completely uninteresting conversation, which I barely remember, so I kept the drinks coming. My three leaves of lettuce did not soak up anything that was currently in my stomach, and it all kept spiraling downhill from there.

After dinner, I was back to my pre-date makeout drunken state. I of course thought I was slick willy, and convinced myself that he had no idea that I was three sheets to the wind. He suggested we go to Bar Coastal, a nearby bar. It was a dirty dive bar that was completely empty on a Friday night. As I offer to pay for a drink, he amusingly accepts. I don't know if it was because I was clueless or because I was so intoxicated, but whoever is asked out on the date should NOT pay!

What seemed like minutes later, Mark reaches under my dress with the simple thoughts of "easy access." I was floored! Who do you think you are?! We are in public! What is wrong with you!? He, on the other hand, saw nothing wrong with this. I had suggested going elsewhere for a little more privacy and he happily agreed. Looking back, I should have suggested a punch in the face. I was naive to say the least, and we went back to Mark's apartment.

It didn't take long for clothes to be ripped off. I was so incoherent, I had no idea what was going on. A few minutes later (it definitely didn't take very long) we were laying on his couch (yes his couch) and he says:

"I have to wake up really early."

These are words I've never heard before, but understood really well.

Me: "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

No, he wasn't. I pulled myself together, trying not to fall on my face, while he tells me he would love to see me again. I run out the door as quickly as possible, to meet up with other friends.

He, in fact did want to see me again and called me often. I decided to give him a second chance (I'm now fully aware of my completely dumb decisions, but this is how I learned each of my lessons) and with the second date of bad sex and Chinese food, that was the end of that.

He had continued to call me in the hopes of getting together again, but I never returned any of Mark's calls. I learned assholes don't get second dates, bad first-date conversations shouldn't lead to a second date, and to skip the pre-date bottle of wine.