One weekend, I found myself with two tickets to the Metropolitan Opera and no one to go with. So, I put an ad on the New York Craigslist looking for a date. I figured, we would be in a public place, and maybe I could make a new friend. I got many, many emails, and corresponded with a few people. One guy seemed particularly promising.

He lived in Brooklyn. He was clearly smart and understood basic rules of grammar (unlike many of my other applicants). He was decently good looking – I think he was mixed Egyptian and Russian, or something like that.

We talked about lots of things, and eventually touched on fashion. I told him that I was interested in it, and then he told me that he loved women in high heels (over the course of the conversation, he had mentioned sex a few more times than I would have liked, but I just let it go). I told him I didn’t really wear heels, and then he went on a tirade about how you couldn’t do fashion in flats. I guided him toward amazing street fashion blogs like The Sartorialist, but he wouldn’t drop it. He kept insinuating that he was in fashion photography, except didn’t actually say so, so who knows. I was getting kind of insulted and I was more defensive than I am proud of, but he was accusing me of not being fashionable! Whatever, dude.

Then he brought up sex one more time – too explicitly for me to ignore. Something about our chemistry in bed. And I told him, explicitly, that I wasn’t looking for someone to sleep with, just someone to come to the opera with me and have a nice evening with. He told me that he didn’t think he could spend an evening with a pretty girl and know that sex was off the table.

“Wait, seriously?” I said. “You can’t just hang out with a pretty girl if you’re not going to get to fuck her later?”

He backtracked. He tried to explain that it just meant that we probably weren’t compatible, because not wanting to sleep with him probably meant that I didn’t have as high of a sex drive as he did. I told him that not wanting to sleep with a stranger immediately said nothing about my sex drive, plus it’s not like we were considering a long-term commitment or anything. Just a night at the opera.

He was still huffy. He made a few more nasty comments about fashion, and then we agreed to go our separate ways. As a closing note, he sent me a message saying that I was too defensive and needed to learn to let things go.

I wound up just selling the tickets online and staying in DC for the weekend.