I’ve been trying, for a while now, to find some serious scum.

I feel like the blog has been suffering – I’ve just been on too many dates lately with perfectly pleasant, decent men. So I decided it was time for someone awful.

I found the musician on Tinder. His profile was basically just references to his band and links to his music. The more I dug in, I found out that he played guitar – and guitarists are always the worst. I didn’t even think he was that cute. I was sure that I had found my scum.

“I hope he mansplains music to me,” I told my friend.

We came up with some leading questions for me to ask; questions that could only be answered in an obnoxious way.

On the night we were supposed to go on our first date, he texted me to reschedule. He had to work late, he said, could we do tomorrow? I agreed. Then, the next day, he told me that he was running late. An hour and a half later, we finally met up.

“This bodes well for an awful date,” I texted my friend. “He’s already an hour and a half late.”

When I got to the bar, he was standing outside. As I walked up, he turned out to be good looking, with a sweet, gentle face. He smiled and apologized for being late. We walked into the bar, he bought me a drink, and we sat down.

Immediately, he started asking me about myself, entirely earnestly. He asked me about what I liked to read, wanted to hear why I loved cults, and clearly just liked listening to me. I even tried to turn the conversation around; to allow him to be an asshole.

“So, you’re in a band,” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Who were your influences?”

That was one of my planned questions intended to trap him into being pretentious. Instead, he turned the conversation right back to me.

“I mean, who doesn’t cite Jimi Hendrix?” he said. “Have you ever seen him play live?”

The musician looked me earnestly in the eye, waiting to hear what I had to say about the man he said had shaped his understanding of music.

The whole night, he just asked me questions – about books, about politics, about my life. All he wanted was to listen to me talk. He was enthralled. Which is something I experience, from time to time – men wanting to hear a smart girl talk about things.

So, he was a disappointment. Not an asshole at all. Just a nice guy who wanted to hear my thoughts on life.