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If I had a Tinder, my bio would be an apology for how bad I am at first dates. I have always been told that I am outgoing, fun, easy to relate to, and all those good things you want to be on a first date. The problem is, when I actually go on the date, I get so nervous that I act like I am on a job interview that I am not qualified for, and I have forgotten what job I am applying to.
Admittedly, I am not concerned about my lack of relationships during college. My friends, however, love to set me up. Usually, I make an excuse to get out of their surprise dates, but in this case, I thought the guy was too cute to pass up. Cuddled up with my dog one night, I got a text from a friend that said, "This guy thinks you're cute. I gave him your number. Be nice." Since I knew he would be texting me at some point, I stalked his Instagram. In my humble opinion, he was extremely attractive. He had tons of pictures with his family, and none with his car, so I decided to give him a chance. For the purposes of this post, let's call him Chad. This is something a Chad would do.
Chad texted me and seemed to be perfectly normal, so I agreed to a casual date. He picked me up from my friends apartment, since she knew him already (safety first ladies). He was a perfect gentleman, opened the car door for me, complimented my outfit, and didn't laugh at my regrettable arm tattoo. He did change which restaurant we were going to without my knowledge, and I ended up at an expensive steakhouse, severely underdressed. This is where it all goes downhill.
Chad tossed the keys to his Ford Focus to the valet like he was some millionaire in a movie. He guided me into the restaurant by placing his hand on the small of my back, but then gradually lowered it so by the time we were inside, he was cupping my butt cheek. He asked for "the best table in the house," and then complained when the restaurant didn't have any private booths. This restaurant did not have booths at all because it was too classy for booths. I was already uncomfortable and embarrassed, but I am not one to leave a date, no matter how bad it gets.
When we sat down, his phone chimed, and he apologized for looking at it, but then did not look up from it until the waiter came to check on us—twice. He finally put it down on the table, and simply said, "Don't worry about the price, I can tell you'll be worth it." I had no intentions of doing anything with Chad, so I thanked him and ordered the cheapest items I could find. To my surprise, Chad did not agree with my selections, so he cancelled my order, and ordered an expensive french dish. I am still unsure what I ate. I decided, however, to give him the benefit of the doubt and pondered the possibility of him overcompensating for his nervousness with false confidence. Perhaps he was getting advice from friends over the phone. I really wanted to like Chad.
Since I am so awkward on first dates, I also assumed that it might be my fault he was acting strange. To break the ice after he had ordered, I asked how he had convinced my friend to give him my number. Apparently, he only asked if she had any "hot single friends," and I was the only blonde that she showed him. I thought he was being sarcastic, so I laughed. He did not laugh, and then picked his phone back up. He put it back down, and then asked about my dog, what I'm studying in school and where I'm from. We were asking each other your typical first date questions, and I tried to stay positive throughout dinner, but I could not help myself from counting how many times he picked up his phone. Over 50 times. Almost every question I asked him prompted him to pick up his phone, and I would get an answer only after he was done typing whatever it was he was typing.
Chad really loved himself, and even spoke in third-person a few times, especially when I asked about his hobbies. Chad likes to travel. Chad likes to party. Chad likes to go on dates with pretty girls. Chad likes to go hunting. Chad loves Chad like Kanye loves Kanye.
Our food finally arrived, and since I was no longer concerned about being cute, I ate my mystery entree as quickly as possible. In the midst of this, Chad decided he wanted a taste too, so he pulled my plate to the middle of the table and started eating it. Like Joey, I do not share food, but I sat back quietly and waited for my meal to be returned to me. Chad, being the gentleman he is, put some of his steak on my plate, and pushed it back towards me. When I finished, he told me I should learn to behave myself at nice restaurants. Behave myself? Alright Chad, thank you for the advice.
The waiter came to ask if we would like dessert, and again, before I could protest, Chad ordered two desserts. Naturally, I thought one of them was for me. When they arrived, Chad had them both placed in front of him, and told me I should have ordered something if I wanted it. I sat there and watched him eat dessert, and waited while he was on his phone until the check came. Chad then proudly informed me that he is a feminist, so he would let me cover the check if I wanted to. I was a bit shocked since he had taken control of everything else for me, and when I hesitated, he offered to split it down the middle. Dumbfounded by his odd behavior, I handed him my card and told him to charge whatever he thought was fair. He handed me back my card, and said I was too pretty to pay. When our waiter came back, he asked if I was alright, and Chad answered, "She's fiiiiiine in that dress," while I let out the most awkward laugh I could manage.
We listened to music and did not speak on the way home. We got back to my friends apartment, and I thanked Chad for the meal, but when I opened my door to get out, he said, "Wait there, Chad is a gentleman," and insisted on walking me to the door. He was on his phone the entire walk—through the parking lot, in the elevator, and down the hall, until we stood silently at the door. Admittedly, I had given up trying to engage with him, and was walking as fast as I could. Little did he know, Chad was not about to get a goodnight kiss from me. I thanked him again for the meal, said it was nice to meet him, offered him good luck on a business venture he had told me about, and knocked on the door. After I knocked, he shouted at me to wait a second for him to catch up. Although, I had no idea what he meant, I apologized for cutting him off, and told my friend to leave the door unlocked until I came in. When she closed the door again, he said, "You should really talk slower and give me a sec, I'm trying to update my fans."
I could not help myself anymore. I burst out laughing and walked inside. About an hour later, Chad texted me a screenshot of his Twitter profile with the caption, "In case you're wondering how you did." He had seriously been live tweeting the whole date to all 193 of his "fans."
Here's how the date went, in Chad's words:
"Listen up fans, ya boy Chad's going on a date. Stay tuned for live updates."
"Tight dress. Tight ass. Chads down."
"At the restaurant got her with that old switcheroo. Chad's fancy huh."
"wtf bruh. no private booths? What is this? Mcdonalds? Ya boys got a reputation to hol up."
"strike one. salad. hell nah Chad likes a girl that can eat"
"strike two fans. clingy. why you gotta ask so many questions boo damn"
"girl asked where I'm from but it only matters where I'm going"
"Too many questions boo. You don't need to know nothing about me. Respect your man."
"baby girl eats like a whale. still sexy though."
"oh she mad that I didnt get her dessert. dont wanna get that ass too fat amiright! Baby girl is lookin mad as hell. She gonna be aight though."
"strike 2 and a half boys. fine ass woman thinks shes fine and made me pay for the whole damn thing. #feminism where you at?"
"Chads about to lock it down. Playin that good good on the way to her place."
"Strike three. prude."
These are just some of my favorite excerpts from his feed. He was also responding to his "fans" questions and criticism the whole time. Later that week, Chad sent me a Venmo request for the entire meal. I learned that my friend had only met him a few times, and had never spent any real time with him. She is no longer allowed to give out my number.