Like many of my stories, this one starts on OKCupid. As I’ve mentioned, I have fairly low standards for responding to messages – basically, literacy and decently good looks. I figure, what’s the loss if he’s not for me? Just a little bit of my time. And hopefully I’ll get some free drinks and, maybe, a good story.

This date, however, was such a non-story that it actually came out the other side to become a good story.

The lovely gentleman in question first appealed to me because he had a full, luscious mustache, and we all know how much I love facial hair. So, he was in, based solely on that criterion.

He was at the bar before me, and had already gotten a drink. When I got there, he didn’t offer to buy mine – which is really fine, but I just like being paid for. But like, I get that me paying for myself is totally normal and decent and not a shit move. I just like the gesture.

So we sat down. I honestly have no idea whatsoever what we talked about. He mentioned “Burroughs,” which I thought was Augusten Burroughs, but he meant William S. Whatevs. Augusten is cooler. Fuck that.

Ok, so this is where it gets good.

I ran into a friend at the bar.

“I’m on a date,” I told her.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Fucking horrible.”

We arranged that she’d call me, and I’d tell him that I had to go save her from a bad date – the irony of which does not escape me.

She called. I apologized to him, and told him that I had to go rescue my friend.

“Why doesn’t she just join us?” he asked.

Ugh. Someone did not get the hint.

So we went inside and met my friend. She was sitting at the bar, next to her roommate. At first, I really didn’t want to be a dick. So I stood between my date and my friend, trying to only subtlely exclude him from the conversation. But, as I got drunker, I decided to just go all out. I would talk and laugh with my friend, with my back turned entirely to the guy. Like, being a total asshole. Completely ignoring him. But he still didn’t get it.

My friend and I went out for a cigarette. A guy friend of mine came up to us, and asked what was going on. I told him I was trying to escape a bad date. He came up with a plan:

“How about I come up to you and tell you our friend has a birthday party – a going away party! – and you have to come? Then we can go smoke a bowl and come back after he’s left.”

I agreed to the plan, but told him he had to let me protest vehemently before we bailed.

“Oh, of course,” he said, and we went inside to execute our heist.

I went back to the bar to stand next to my date. I started talking to him (still boring, for the record), and then my friend came up. My friend insisted, over and over, that we had to leave, so I turned apologetically to my date and told him I had to leave.

“I feel kind of bad,” I said to my friend. “He can’t possibly have believed that.”

But I was free. Praise Jesus.

My friend and I went to his apartment. He smoked some weed, I had a cider or two. And then I checked my phone. I had a text from the Boring Man.

“This might sound weird,” it said, “but I got this coloring book and I don’t know if you’d like to get some bottles of wine and color it in this weekend.”

Oh my god. Like, oh. My. God.

Putting the coloring book aside – how could he possibly not have gotten the hint? It wasn’t even really a hint – it was a pretty fucking obvious snub. Jesus Christ.

And, I mean – I kinda felt bad for him. He’s totally fine with a woman ignoring him, bailing on him, and basically treating him like shit? That’s sad.

But not sad enough for me to color with him. I sent the following text:

“Sorry,” I said. “Bottles of wine and coloring books don’t sound good to me. Best of luck.”

And that was that.