First Dates, Low Rates

I left my number for a server once. Having been talked into it by my group of girlfriends, I was certain this was a great idea.

To my surprise, he texted me later that night. We talked, commented on how good looking we thought the other was and made plans to go out for coffee. Plot twist? He wasn’t my server and we didn’t exchange a word that night. I had just set myself up for not only a blind date, but also my first date ever. Terrifying.

We met up at Williams Café. New and naïve to the dating world, I was sure that that the guy had to pay on the first date. Wrong. I had to visa my $2.00 coffee. Broke as hell #studentlife. He, on the other hand, whipped out his wallet filled of cash and coin to pay for his also $2.00 coffee, and later proceeded to tell me how much money he makes. Generally, this isn’t a deal breaker but I’m a firm believer in a little give and take. Read on.

Everyone says to keep your first date active, and I should have listened. Sitting less than a foot away from someone you don’t know for over an hour and a half is an intense and easy way to prevent a second date.

As for this guy? He ruined any chance of a second date in the first 10 minutes and then again within the last 2 by asking me not to drive him home, or back to school, but to drive him to run one of his errands. Errrks. Record skip. Yes, you read that correctly.

To reiterate, this was a blind date.

I don’t know this guy. We just met, and he boldly asked me for a favour without ever extending a mild sense of courtesy. No chairs pulled out, no handshake, no hug, no nothing. Annnnnd most importantly, no paid for coffee.

Regardless, I complied and I’m still ashamed about it. We reached his destination and as soon as that car door shut, the song Hide Away by Daya played on the radio. I drove off with the lyrics, “Where do the good boys go to hide away” ringing in my ears. This would later become the deafening tune of my dating life thereafter.

But, if there are any good boys hiding out there I prefer a glass of wine to a cup of coffee. And no, you don’t have to pay. Just don’t treat me like your chauffeur. You don’t want to sacrifice a potentially exceptional ride for a mediocre one, if you catch my drift.