So I’ve been going through a rather shitty breakup and recently re-entered the dating pool. I happened to meet this guy when I went in to do my taxes, and damn he was hot, like stupid hot. The type of hot that makes any rational decisions and inhibitions go out the window. This is why when he asked me out to dinner, I, of course, said yes.

Full disclosure: I’ve never actually been on a date, at least not as an adult. I got into a serious relationship right out of high school, which lasted six years before I pulled the plug. Then I immediately got into another longterm relationship, this one lasting seven years. Having been in serious longterm relationships my entire adult life, I had no firsthand knowledge of the dating game. Casual adult courtship is a pretty new concept to me. Naturally, I was excited about a new experience.

A Rocky Start

My date, who will hereafter be referred to as DATEDUDE texted me a few hours before the appointed time and asked me to meet him at a restaurant bar chain called Twin Peaks. That name is not an homage to the fantastic TV show. It’s a Hooters knockoff. This should have been my first clue.

DATEDUDE texted me after I got there to say that he would be late by about 10 minutes. I ordered myself a giant beer and proceeded to wait for him to arrive. DATEDUDE finally did show up about 30 minutes later, claiming he got lost. That’s right; he got lost on his way to the place that he’d suggested. This should have been my second clue that something about this guy was seriously amiss.

date [pictured are three 20-something men who are Trump supporters, wearing pro-Trump and flag-decorated tank shirts and displaying their biceps.]When DATEDUDE finally did show up, he immediately tried to go in for the smooch. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with this guy? He’d just shown up 30 minutes late to a date at a tacky restaurant that objectifies the hell out of women! On what planet did he think he deserved a smooch? That should have been clue number three.

By then I had started to feel pretty apprehensive about the whole thing. I suggested that we leave this tacky bar to go get some dank pancakes and he said, “I’m paying so I should get to pick the place.” This was clue number four, coming in to smack me in the face.

Stay with me. The evening was about to get much worse and far, far more irritating.

The Date Goes Downhill

After we got a table, he pointed at the Bernie Sanders button on my jacket as I hung it on the back of the chair. “I noticed that when you came into my work earlier. I voted for Trump, but I decided to give you a chance because you’re really hot.” Well shit, I’m on a date with a Trump supporter. My libido deflated like a leaky balloon.

I decided my goal was to fill up on beer and nachos and call it a night, because a free meal is a free meal. After having waited for close to 45 minutes for DATEDUDE to even show up and for us to get a table, I was starving. I was in the Twitter DMs at this point telling the fam that I was on a date with a Trumper. Meanwhile, DATEDUDE was rambling about immigration. I sighed loudly and ordered another beer. I knew I was going to need it.

Who the Hell Even Is This Guy?

I decided to order nachos because I figured they would be messy and unattractive. Who is gonna try and make a move on a girl with avocado on her chin? Those nachos would end up being the high point of the evening.

DATEDUDE started telling me about his family back in Ohio where he grew up. It turned out his dad was a displaced steelworker who lost his job in the late nineties and never quite regained his footing, instead descending into alcoholism. It was a genuinely sad story, and for the first time that evening I felt sympathy for DATEDUDE. He told me illegal immigration was the reason his dad lost his job. I remarked that NAFTA was the far more likely reason. He shrugged and stared into his beer glass.

After this, we hit an awkward pause in the conversation. I took an extra long guzzle off my second beer, hugging it like a life preserver. For a moment, DATEDUDE looked like he wanted to ask me about myself (this would have been a first for the evening). That moment passed, and he instead began talking about Trump’s border wall and how Mexico will pay for it. I guess there are still people who believe this, much to my surprise. It got better: he began to quietly chant, “Build that wall! Build that wall!” I was so embarrassed I wanted to hide under the table. DATEDUDE then proceeded to stare at the ass of a waitress filling up someone’s water at a table across from us.

The evening hit a high point when my nachos arrived. I dug in, thankful for the opportunity to stuff my face in silence as this clown I was actually on a date with continued to ogle the unsuspecting waitstaff. DATEDUDE then started talking about his last girlfriend in great detail. He told me how she left him for voting for Trump. Yes, I’m sure that’s the only reason why, you obnoxious prick.

Will This Nightmare Ever End?

I was beginning to wonder when I could officially call this a night. I was fully occupied on my phone at this point texting friends to rescue me. Their DMs were keeping me entertained with suggestions such as asking this guy how he feels about white genocide and “having a threesome with a dude from another race and another dude.”

It was pretty clear that the date needed to be over. We’d both lost interest in being amicable with each other. I was to the point where I wanted just to start trolling him. Then DATEDUDE started asking me what we should do after this. He wanted to go to a movie — I assumed for heavy petting, rather than to enjoy a subpar flick.

It was definitely time to tank this date. So I asked him if he watched Infowars, based on the suggestion of one of the people I had been DMing. To no one’s surprise, he DID, and he was very excited to elaborate. He started telling me about this amazingly smart guy on there named Paul Watson (snort). He went on to say that he’d been watching Alex Jones for a decade. I realized that I might not even have to ask him about white genocide; it’d probably come up naturally.

I should mention that I was eating my nachos as messily as I could, taking care to get cheese and sour cream all over my mouth. DATEDUDE was not so easily deterred. He just stared at my chest. Maybe I should’ve dumped food down my shirt as well? Despite how disastrous the evening had been, DATEDUDE didn’t want to end it. He got the check and seemed sure that I was going to a movie with him next.

Luckily, I had one card left to play. “You realize that I am a Communist, right?” I announced. Without missing a beat, he replied, “No wonder you didn’t offer to pay!”

I thanked him for a “lovely” evening as I picked up my coat and purse. DATEDUDE put the cherry on top of a shit cake of an evening by calling out for all the restaurant to hear, “Hey I’ll still bone you!” I headed to the restroom to clean nachos off my face. My first date was finally over, thank god.

Let this be a lesson to all of you. Do not date someone simply on the basis of looks. DATEDUDE was insanely hot when I met him. By the end of the evening, he was about as attractive as Ian Miles Cheong.

Ah well, at least those nachos were good.

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