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The Worst Date That Didn't Happen

It's my fear not because it's a worst-case scenario but because it's a likely one that has made me feel like shit when it's happened.

By Lauren HarshPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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"Women's worst fear for a blind date with a man is that he'll kill her. Men's worst fear is that the woman will be fat." I've seen a few variations on this statement on the social media sphere. And though using "studies show" as the first two words of a meme often doesn't mean there was a study, I believe it. Though as a lesbian, it doesn't apply to me. Could that cute young lady I matched with on Tinder be a rapist or murderer? Yeah, it's possible. But it's not the fear that repeats itself over and over again in my head before I set out to meet her. That would be, "What if she doesn't show up without an explanation?" Not because it's a worst-case scenario, but because it's a likely one that has made me feel like shit when it's happened.

The worst instance of that fear coming true was during my final year at the University of Michigan. I had been dating even less than usual because I spent most of my time outside of school working on a political campaign. I didn't want to give up on it entirely until November because I was horny and weak. We matched on an app called HER. But I usually call it something like "girl tinder" in conversations because I don't want people to think I'm talking about that movie where creepy mustache Joaquin Phoenix falls in love with the Scarlett Johanssen-voiced equivalent of Siri. She was a couple years older than me. The usual age range I went for. I don't even remember what her name was but I remember that she was cute and seemed sweet, as much as a blurb among some pictures can portray. I remember that she had kittens: a very important detail to a cat lover who doesn't currently live with one. And that she was a bartender.

We made plans to meet at a bar near campus on Saturday night. All my housemates knew I was going on a date because I told them how much I was looking forward to it. As I got ready I sent her a quick "Are we still on for tonight?" text. I checked my phone periodically as I continued to get ready. Nothing. That was when that voice in my head started to whisper that she was blowing me off. I tried to reason with it. Maybe she was busy with something else right until our meeting time? Maybe her phone was dead? Come on, Lauren. You're not so important that everyone has to respond to your texts right away.

It was time. She still hadn't responded. A logical person would have probably taken the silence as a no. But I went anyway because I am not a logical person. However, I did stall and scroll through Twitter in Nickel's Arcade for a few minutes just in case. When I eventually did go inside I sent another text. "I got us a table facing the window."

I worked on my beer comedically slowly as the silence dragged on. Half an hour passed. Then 45 minutes. Did she die? Hey, I have a weird life. It could happen. Or did she decide that I sucked as a person so much that I wasn't even worth a, "Sorry, I can't make it"? I mean, I was gonna graduate from college in a few months and had never been on more than three dates with the same person, let alone had a capital R Relationship. When it came to dating I did suck.

An acquaintance I knew from the student housing co-ops entered the bar alone. We exchanged the appropriate pleasantries. She was also on a Tinder date. We showed each other pictures from our respective dates' profiles. "I've been here a pretty long time. I'm kinda worried she's not coming," I admitted. An understatement. Her date arrived. By then I had been waiting for an hour. Now, it wasn't just sad. It was embarrassing. I had a witness. I walked up to the bar and sighed "I'm cashing out, my date's not showing up," hoping that the bartender would take pity on me and offer me another drink on the house like people on Twitter claimed happened to them. Of course he didn't.

Instead of going right home I decided to go two doors down to a coffee shop I frequented. I'm not sure why I did it, but I would soon wish I hadn't. A classmate from my French History class the year before who I hadn't talked to since took my order for a small hot chocolate was there. Of course she wanted to catch up and of course I was too worn out to play along with the ritual. I told her I had just been stood up by a Tinder date. Her response? "Well if she's on Tinder she can't be that great anyway." Bitch, I'm on Tinder too. That's kind of how it works. After I got my hot chocolate I couldn't put off going home and crying any longer.

She finally texted me when I woke up the next day. Something along the lines of "I'm not even going to try to justify what happened last night. You probably hate me now." No apology, no explanation, just confirmation that she did not, in fact, die. I almost wish she had ghosted me instead.

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About the Creator

Lauren Harsh

human mess

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