Being new to New York I had a lot of reservations about dating. How the hell am I supposed to meet someone in a city of 8 million? How do you separate the murderers from the nice guys who love their mom and wash their hands after they use the bathroom?
Five years ago, there was a stigma that came with online dating. If you were on an online dating website, you were a “loser”, plain and simple. After meeting douchebag after douchebag at bars in the Lower East Side, I decided I was going to be one of those losers. I told a lot of people about my online dating because I was embarrassed and I like to embarrass myself, but nobody thought it was weird. NOBODY (besides me).
Three days passed and I had finally come to the point where I was going to have my first date. After countless pointless emails of “ sooo where are you from?” and “what do you do for work?” I was finally asked to go grab a drink. What the fuck ever happened to dinner? Dating in NYC is like applying to school. There’s a whole annoying process you have to go through. First, you get asked to go grab “a” drink because there isn’t too much commitment there. If it’s going sour, it’s easy to escape. If you PASS the “drinks” portion you are then promoted. Sometimes, you are promoted right to dinner and other times you’ll maybe get a Sunday brunch. It’s all contingent on who you’re working with.
So here I was, ready to meet my first match date, Erik. Ohhh Erik. He looked like a corporate James Franco minus the weird. Until he opened his stupid, perfect, mouth. Erik was obnoxious, but charming enough to make you forget about how annoying he was. There were so many red flags right from the start but I gave him the benefit of the doubt, convincing myself that I was just being too picky. Keep in mind, I had been out of the game for about four years now so I didn’t really remember the rules of dating. Also, I’m pretty easy to impress. Erik possessed the two main qualities that I’m looking for in a guy; a sense of humor and manners.
Or so I initially thought…..
It was going well. Erik had enough enthusiasm for the both of us. I sat there and listened to him talk about his job, his family life, and his past. I watched him show me his gold NY Yankees pendant that was tucked away underneath his perfectly tailored suit, tell me about his ex, tell me he had been on 60 dates in four months, and last but not least , I had the privilege of seeing a naked girl on his phone that his coworker had sent him. At this point, I didn’t know what to think. The whole “manners” thing had gone out of the window after he told me how he had surgery twice due to sex injuries.
Before we had gone out, Erik was texting me like a 16 year old girl. He was “so excited” to meet me but he had a yoga class he had at 8pm that he had to go to. I saw right through his antics. I knew EXACTLY what Erik was doing because he beat me to the punch. He was capping our date with a prior engagement so if it was going poorly, he would be able to get out of it. That rat bastard. I pretended to believe him and told him that was fine. It was about 7:45pm so I knew the date was coming to an end. The only issue here was the Erik wasn’t going anywhere. I asked him about Yoga and he said “oh no it’s okay I’m going to skip tonight”. Fuck. I’m trapped. And I didn’t give myself an escape so I’m now stuck for eternity. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating but I was stuck for 4 HOURS. That’s 4 episodes of Dawson’s Creek. That’s enough Pacey, Joey, Dawson, and Jen for me. We concluded the night with a walk to the Subway but not before stopping into his work building to meet the security guard he’s befriended. Sidenote: it was nice to meet you Reggie.
Now you would think after listening to this cocky, douchy, arrogant, Camaro-owning frat boy, I had had enough. I wish that was the case. I wasn’t used to dating and he kept reassuring me the date went so well so I thought maybe this is what’s left out there. Maybe all of the good ones are taken and the only men left are good looking douchebags. So, I gave Erik a second chance.
What is a perfect second date to go on with a complete stranger? I bet you didn’t guess the rifle range. And if you did, you’re probably a serial killer. Not only did Erik want to go to the rifle range on Sunday, he wanted to go to the rifle range at 10am on a Sunday. Sounds awesome. We were driving in his stupid, American- made Camaro when a half hour had elapsed. This was it. This nice little Sunday was going to be my last Sunday ever. I was so convinced he was going to murder me that I was racking my brain for escape routes out of the vehicle. Erik didn’t physically murder me that day, but mentally I had taken a beating. We arrived at the rifle range where he parked 600 feet away so nobody will touch his “baby”. Yeah, he was one of those. It was SO nice listening to him speak about how he had never dated anyone over 115lbs (you know, until me), how he was with his ex-girlfriend because she had the most “perfect” ass, how his dick had a lot of girth so sometimes it was “too much” for the girl, and how he’s a great trader, a fabulous swimmer, and a natural at almost everything he does.
By the end of the date I was pretty confident that I never wanted to see Erik again (in my life). That’s why it came as a surprise to me when I broke it off with him via text (mature) and he was upset. Apparently, he thought it had been going really well and did not try to conceal his attitude towards me when telling me to “have a nice life…and I hope you know you’re making a huge mistake”. As I was left there sitting alone with my thoughts, I began to wonder if I maybe I was in fact making a mistake. It wasn’t until 20 minutes later when I received the reassuring text that read “it’s fine, figured you were a prude anyway.”
As my faith in men was restored, I decided to take my talents elsewhere.
-Justine Kolsky
About Justine Kolsky
Justine Kolsky is a writer for Rookerville. Aside from trying to perfect her twerk, she likes to spend her time being cold and sarcastic to her peers. Tell her I said "hello", she'll know what it means.
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that was hysterical!
If you ever take your talents to South Beach, maybe we can grab a drink.