wingsIn honor of Valentine’s Day, I felt it only fitting to reflect on some of the god awful dates I’ve endured. Though I could write about the jerks and the weirdos, one particular guy always comes to mind when people ask about my DC dating life.

Here’s what happened…

I met a guy at a bar on U street right before closing and we exchanged numbers (alright, alright, we exchanged some saliva too, whatever). He texted me to meet up later that week for happy hour and I agreed because he was cute and dressed well and smelled good.

We ended up getting wings and beers at a divey place in Dupont and it turned out he was a well-known republican congressman’s son. Quintessential DC.

We chatted for a bit and his southern drawl was surprisingly charming. I tend to get flustered by accents, but his was sweet and didn’t make him sound like a total hick. I was warming to the guy when he suddenly stopped mid-conversation to tell me how nice my hair was.

I had straightened it for the date, so admitted to him that it’s naturally curly. I thought my frankness would win me some brownie points and figured if we got caught in a rainstorm (read: ended up showering together) he’d discover the truth anyway.

“I wish it were always this straight” I quipped, “but I’ve got a serious Jew fro some days”. He looked perplexed.

“Are you Jewish??” he inquired.

Caught off guard by the change in tone, I stammered, “Uhh yes, well, half. My mom isn’t, but my dad is…”

He squinted and continued to stare at me. I swear he was looking for the horns. After a few moments he just gave a little shrug and said, “Hmm I’m not sure I’ve ever met a Jew before.”

I sat there on the bar stool, stunned, and utterly weirded out. Whether I was the first Jewish person he’d met or just the first Jewish person he realized he’d met, I was done with the date. There could be no future with someone so utterly moronic.

I gave him a half smile, set $20 on the counter, and walked my half-Jewish self home.



My friend just reminded me that this story gets even better.

I thought I had made it pretty clear that I wasn’t into this southern boy when I rudely walked out of the bar, but apparently he didn’t pick up on that… In the days that followed, he sent a few texts alerting me to the fact that he was “headed out of town for a bit” to which I did not respond.

About two weeks later, I received a text out of nowhere from the guy with just a photo of him, shirtless on a tractor. He was wearing army fatigue bottoms and proudly holding a rifle up in the air in what I can only assume he believed to be a manly, patriotic gesture.

What the WHAT??

2 thoughts on “The Very Bad Date”

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