So I Went On a Date

Dating Diaries: Mr. No-Show

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In my 30-something years of living, I have never been stood up. Until now.

This was probably karma coming back to me for leaving my date with the doctor when I told him I had a headache.

We were planning to meet at a little hole-in-the-wall bar that has fun games like ping pong and skee ball. Prior to us meeting we had to reschedule our dates a few times, I didn’t think anything of it. I arrive at the bar and text him letting him know I’m sitting outside. He responds, “running a few minutes behind I had to take my dog out.”

I decide to order a glass of Pinot Grigio and wait for his arrival. Twenty minutes go by. I text my friend to ask her how long does one wait until they realize they’ve been stood up.  She instructed me to text him about his ETA and wait at least 20 minutes before leaving.

I shoot him a text asking him,  “Hey _____ just seeing if you’re planning on coming or not. If you’re not, it’s cool… but just let me know.” Radio silence. No reply. Nothing. At this point I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I finish my wine, close my tab and bounce out of there.

If I learned anything from this non-existent date, it’s that I can totally go somewhere and drink a glass of wine by myself and not feel weird about it. Victory!

 

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So I Went On a Date

Dating Diaries: A Disaster With a Doctor

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I went on my first and last date with a private practice doctor. I have nothing against doctors, my best friend married a doctor who works at Duke and I love him to death. *Note: I told my friend about my date with the doctor and she told me to stay away from doctors who are in private practice as they’re high maintenance and all about the money.*

So I met the doctor at Vivace at North Hills, which I thought was just going to be for a drink since it was 9pm. I don’t know about you, but I can’t eat dinner after 9pm for the fear I’ll get heartburn. Anyways, I arrive and he’s sitting at the bar and we greet each other with small talk. As I’m handed the drink menu from the bartender, I make a comment about how I could really go for a glass of rosé. The response I received from the doctor was not expected… “don’t order a glass of wine, get a cocktail. I’m thinking we’ll have a nice bottle of white wine from Italy when we sit down for dinner.” Insert my facial expression of disbelief when I was told what to do. That was red flag number one. In case you’re wondering, I never ordered a drink. I did not want a cocktail and I wasn’t even sure I wanted a glass of wine after that.

Red flag number 2. He proceeds to talk about himself and the practice he was recruited to. He talks about skiing, elaborate vacations, the country club he belongs to, etc. It was then I realized this was not going to work out. I could tell he was looking for a trophy wife. He wanted someone to show off, someone to be a stay-at-home mom and be the one who takes care of the home while he works. This was not something I wanted to sign up for.

Red flag number 3. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. I noticed he kept jingling his wrist throughout the date. It was obvious he wanted me to see his watch. I thought I’d play along for giggles. Here’s how it went:

Me: *Looking at his watch* “Is that a Rolex?”
Doctor: “Why yes it is!!” *He proceeds to remove the watch from his wrist on his own accord and hands it over to me thinking I will marvel and drool over the luxurious watch.* “It’s 14 karat white gold”, he exclaims.
Me: *Blank stare. Thinking to myself, is this real life? I gotta get outta here.* To try to lighten the mood I say, “Well you know I have this fancy Garmin watch on. It tracks my steps, my heart rate, I get text messages, etc.”
Doctor: “Maybe I’ll buy you a Rolex one day.”
Me: “No… I’m good.”

I hand the watch back to him and tell him I probably wouldn’t be staying for dinner as I had a headache. Truth be told, I was getting a headache and I didn’t want to have to sit through a meal with him that he would insist on paying for. As he walked with me outside red flag number 4 was minutes away from happening. He proceeds to tell me he used to live in the apartments above North Hills, but had to move to a “higher rent district” because he wanted to be around more sophisticated people like him. I couldn’t leave this conversation fast enough. We exchange goodbyes and I head to my local McDonald’s so I can treat myself to some french fries and think about what just transpired.

Don’t get me wrong, I like nice things too. I just don’t air it out or brag about it. Good for him if he bought himself a Rolex or joined a country club… that kind of stuff doesn’t impress me. If you really want to impress me, tell me you volunteer at an animal shelter or that you’ve ran your first marathon.