The Horror

The age we live in could probably be described as the WORST TIME TO DATE. Ever.

Everyone is so self-absorbed that you can’t start a conversation on the street; people are too busy on their phones.

Everyone is hyperaware of “stranger danger” so it’s hard to walk up to someone in a public place and start a conversation.

So what does that leave most people as a form of dating? Online. The horror.

That’s where my personal story begins. As someone who was always in love with the idea of love, I struggled to find a tangible love in another person. I was extremely self conscious, embarrassing, and awkward. Having a great state job eventually led to me having weight loss surgery and a new sense of confidence.

Flash forward to me being 100 pounds lighter and finding myself on a date with a balding, much more boring version of Jeffrey Dahmer, in the flesh.

We met on Tinder, exchanged numbers, and texted a lot.

We agreed to meet at a local bookstore because he “didn’t want to put money into someone until he was sure.”

Okay Kelsey, first official red flag.

I am like Beyoncè-level independent. Meryl Streep-level boss lady. I have never relied and will never rely or want a man to buy me anything. But being the lonely, sad soul I was, I agreed. I ordered my frap and waited for the most disappointing date of my life to arrive.

I’m sitting at the cafè and I see him (who is much shorter, fatter—and did I mention balder?—than any of his pictures depict).

He passes me up about six times before I finally send a text.

“Here. Red shirt. I think I’ve seen you go by a few times.”

He flops into the seat across from me.

“Ah, it’s crowded here, eh?” He asks.

I look around. We are literally the only people at the cafè.

I do a nervous giggle.

We sit in silence for an unprecedented THREE MINUTES.

He finally says, “So what’s your deal? What do I not know about you?”

I try to think. What is there to know? I’m an open book, available for perusing at any moment.

I launch myself into a story about my pets, family, work.

I say everything there is to know about Kelsey in about fifteen minutes.

I pause for a minute and look at my hands. I ask him about himself.

He says, “Let’s not do that. I have to go buy coleslaw for my mom so I guess we need to wrap this up.”

I’m literally staring open-mouthed because what situation have I gotten myself into?

Bald-er man then sighs loudly and tells me, “Ya know. I thought you would look skinnier in person, but I don’t think you’re physically fit enough for me. I almost qualified for the olympics in tenth grade.”

He then tells me that he was really upset that we didn’t vote for the same presidential candidate and he stands up.

“Well, you aren’t attractive enough for me to date, but if you ever want to hang out, let me know.”

He walks out, leaving me shocked. I finally get a grip on reality and burst out into laughter. A horribly awkward date that lasted 26 minutes, tops?

I became much more selective with my dating pool after this catastrophe.

#myworstdate