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I decided it was time to get myself back in the dating game.
Being new (and newly single) to my city I decided it was about time I dust off the 'ol dating apps and get myself back into the game. Clearly I was completely oblivious to the fact that an online dating fail such as this could have occurred.
I matched with Craig, and we connected over the fact that we both would be perfectly content living on halal truck food, our mutual appreciation for house music festivals, and our love of ski vacations in Vermont.
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I matched with Craig and we set up a date. I even got a blowout.
Craig suggested we do dinner and drinks at a popular local establishment, hoping we would be lucky enough to score a good spot on the rooftop on a beautiful July night.
Feeling rather positive about this potential romance I donned a lovely pink lace romper, some flirty high heels, and went so far as to get a blowout to ensure a perfectly coiffed hairdo for my potential suitor.
I was definitely feelin' myself.
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Craig was over 15 minutes late. Not a great start...
I strutted my stuff into the restaurant at 7:10 (because I needed to make my entrance, of course) and searched for Craig in the sea of people. Craig then texted me and said he was running late, but to go to the roof deck and try to secure a spot.
I put our name in for a table and ordered myself a cocktail.
15 minutes and another cocktail passed — still no sign of Craig.
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I should have seen that as the first red flag.
Finally, he made his appearance and told me that we best find somewhere else to go considering it would be over an hour for a table.
Craig was lugging a rather large backpack around as he clearly just came from work.
"Do you mind if we swing by my place real quick so I can drop this off?" He asked.
Considering he made it seem like he lived in somewhat close proximity to our current location, I said it would be fine.
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He made us go back to his to "drop off his work stuff."
We ended up walking several blocks down the avenue then hung a right and proceeded about eight more blocks. The stilettos I was wearing were certainly not meant for such a trek, and I could feel the blisters forming on the backs of my ankles.
We got to Craig's apartment, and (for some reason) I followed him up to his 5th-floor walk-up. (I'm f*cking stupid, I know.)
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His apartment was gross, to say the least.
His studio was quite small and dingy, to say the least. There was a tie-dyed Grateful Dead blanket covering the windows allowing the smallest remnant of sunlight to enter. It smelled of rancid mildew, and there was about a week's worth of dirty dishes piled up in the sink.
"I just need to sit for a minute. It's been a long day!" He said.
Despite my fear of contracting scabies from his sofa, I took a seat.
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He was doing everything he could to get us to stay.
"Ughhhh what a day," Craig lamented. "I guess you're hungry?"
"Yeah, I am getting hungry," I replied. "Actually quite famished," hoping it would get me out of this putrid apartment quicker.
Craig walked over to his fridge and pulled out two cans of beer. He placed one in front of me and cracked open the other.
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He rolled a joint and started smoking.
"I'm just mad tired. Let me see what I can do for dinner," he said, rummaging through his pantry. "I've got some pretzels here. I can make some of this Rice A Roni, and I have some chicken in the fridge I can heat up."
He then reached into one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a weed pipe.
"You smoke?" He asked, as he motioned towards me to offer a hit, then taking one himself.
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I HAD to get out of there, stat!
Repulsed by the mere thought of ingesting anything that came from his kitchen, I told him I was fine and should probably leave him to get some rest.
"Ahhh I feel like I messed up our night. I'm so sorry. I hope we can have another go around because I do think you're really cool, I just had a hectic work week so far," (it was fucking Tuesday) he said as I hastily made my way to the door.
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He went in for a kiss. I rejected him...
I assured him that it was fine, and made my way to the door in order to expedite my departure.
Craig walked me to the door, wrapped his arms around my waist, and went in for a kiss. I awkwardly turned my head and gave him a slight air kiss to the side of his face.
I pulled away, and with his hands still snuggly wrapped around my midsection our faces were uncomfortably close.
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He leaned in again, but this time, he LICKED MY FACE!
"Ah, you don't kiss on the first date?" He asked. "That's OK."
Craig then stared at me right in the eyes…
…came in for what I thought was another kiss…
Then slowly ran his tongue right up my nose.
I could feel his wet slobber drench the area between my nostrils and up passed the tip of my nose.
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I legged it out of there.
"EWWWW! You just LICKED me!" I squealed in disgust.
"You're just so cute I couldn't help myself," he replied cheekily.
Horrified, I freed myself from his grasp and scurried out the door to escape. When I made it to the sidewalk I scoured my handbag for tissues or anything to wipe his saliva from my face.
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What. The. Actual. F*ck?!
Craig texted me the ubiquitous 'U up?' or 'WYD?' (in typical fuckboy fashion) the following weeks, but he will definitely not be receiving a reply…especially since I wasted a perfectly good blowout on that face-licking asshole.
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