I want to preface this post by saying that I am NOT shitting on people who work in service. I am not shitting on people who hold down regular jobs and are happy to do things that aren’t “prestigious” or “impressive” – in fact, I kind of hate people who are more ambitious than passionate; more into prestige than actually liking what they do.

But I am shitting on this guy.

For the record, and right up front, I will say that this motherfucker cancelled on me.

“I’m just not feeling this,” he said, the afternoon before our date.

And no one fucking cancels on me. He’s missing out on a lot. And by that I mean, I’m a lot, and he may not have been into it, but at least he should have experienced it. Because, who knows? Maybe he’ll never get this much again. This much attitude. This much brilliance. This much class.

Also, I was cuter than him, but, hey, that doesn’t matter (it matters).

Now, let’s back up.

I matched with this gentleman on Tinder. He was pretty cute, my kind of dude – a little chunky, with a beard. And he was wearing a Washington Nationals t-shirt in one of his pictures. So I had a great opener.

“Are you from DC?” I asked. “I see the Nats gear.”

“I am,” he responded. “Go Nats!”

“But DC proper?” I asked.

Because I’m a snob, and it’s important. There are so many people who say, “I’m from DC,” when, like, they’re from Arlington or some shit like that. NUH UH, BITCHES. You’re from the suburbs. I’m from the 202. The land of Marion Barry. Don’t front.

Hennyway, he responded with a beautiful answer.

“Oh yeah, DC proper,” he said. “None of this NoVa or Montgomery County garbage.”

In other words, he got it. This is a man who knew what was important, and that was the Stars and Bars.


Here’s the DC Flag, for those not in the know.


So we chatted. I tried to figure out what he cared about.

He told me he was a big baseball fan, which is nice. He worked as a manager at Trader Joe’s on the Upper West Side, and it was boring, but he hoped to retire doing it. Both of which are cool, but, like, that’s it?

Yeah, it turned out. That was it. He seemed to have zero interest, zero passion, about anything. Besides, like, supporting his local sports team and hawking (very affordable) prepared foods.

And apparently, that apathy extended to me.

I didn’t have high hopes, but I had been looking forward to our date. After all, he was a fellow Washingtonian, and he had a cute beard.

But he cancelled on me.

“My heart’s just not in it,” he said.

And, yes, I am bitter. Because no one cancels on this bitch. Especially when I’m cuter than they are.