Investment Piece

Loves! It’s here! In my ultimate attempt to become Carrie Bradshaw, and satisfy my friends’ need to hear my awful dating stories (and sadly, there are a lot), we give you: Ex Files, dating horror stories. Yes, these stories really happened, yes, names/dates/places have been changed to protect those involved, and yes, if you wanted to be remembered well, behave better.

Enjoy! XO RA

The One Who Asked For His Money Back
I met Rick through friends, which is allegedly the best way to met people. On paper it made sense: I like sports, he was a sports writer, his bff was dating my bff; and if we could all just fall in love and live side by side, it would be the stuff that sitcoms dream of, in a word, perfect. Also, he was great with a witty text. (Side note: I may put too much stock in a witty text.) Nevertheless, when Rick asked me to dinner I said yes. I was even reasonably excited about the date, in the way that sarcastic women who secretly believe in fairy tales can be. A proper gentleman, Rick had called days before and we had made a plan: dinner and drinks on Thursday at 7, he was going to pick me up.

Thursday came. I was ready, early, just like my Mimi taught me. 7 came. 7:15 came. I got a text from Rick letting me know that he would be late–and I mean, we all know traffic is crazy, right? 7:30 came. As did 7:45 and another text-I should go ahead and eat, because Rick was super late. So me in my super amazing dress, and stunning shoes (like I have another kind) heated up a Trader Joes meal. Great date so far. 8. 8:30. Finally, 9 and Rick was waiting for me outside, and while the sarcastic gal in me wanted to rip into Rick (look, that kind of late is rude, period), I didn’t –I was betting on great drinks. And the drinks were great, we went to a martini bar, Rick apologized profusely, and I sat with my drink and prepared to learn more about this guy. Things, sadly, went downhill from there.

As it turns out, Rick had always wanted to play baseball as a kid. A normal goal, and maybe one that would have been in reach-you know, if he ever played. Yes, that’s right, Rick never played baseball. Not little league, not middle school, not high school, other than playing catch with his dad and friends, Rick had never picked up a bat. However, this didn’t stop him from trying out for his college team. (Takes guts, which I do applaud) To no one’s surprise, after years of not playing baseball, when Rick tried out for his college baseball team, he didn’t make it. Did that push him to train, try hard, and try again? Nope. Rick took it as a sign that his college coach was not a good coach, spent 4 years thinking about baseball, not playing, but decided to try out for the Minor Leagues. Spoiler alert: that didn’t end well either. I got to hear about this for hours, all while my acting skills were on full display, as I tried to pretend that this was normal date conversation. But don’t worry! Rick also insulted my sports teams, demanded to know if I thought he would be good at baseball, and let me know how trivial he thought my career was. The martinis were good, and I earned those suckers.

Thankfully, even the worse night comes to a close, and after what only felt like an eternity (but was closer to 2 hours), Rick took me home. Freedom was so close I could taste it. We turned on my street, Rick asked where he should park (you know, so he could come up). The fact that I didn’t sputter or have a heart attack is a testament to my ability to stay cool in a crisis. But to think–Rick thought the night went well, so well, Rick thought he would be invited up. I came up with some excuse about an early morning, gave an awkward hug, a punch on the arm (to really send home the message) and sprinted out of the car. (Maybe there’s a track team I can try out for?)

I thought I was safe. A week went by and Rick was silent. And if this story ended here, this would simply be another bad date, not that memorable. Loves, it went downhill. (Maybe there’s a making it worse team Rick could try out for?) Just when I thought Rick would be someone I could run into and be ok with, he sent me an email asking me out, and letting me know how much he was into me. I could ignore it. I could suffer through his adult disappointments. But I’m an adult, and while it’s not always comfortable, I believe in being adult with people. I let Rick know that I wasn’t available for the night in question, and while I enjoyed his company (Acting classes do pay for themselves, dad!) that I thought we would be better friends. Again, days of silence. I thought that was it. Until, the next week. Rick emailed me to let me know that “when makes an investment, he expects a return. He made an investment in my drinks, got nothing out of it, and would like to be repaid for the drinks I had”.

First–so many issues with that. Second, let’s be clear, I was out of Rick’s league and if I charged for my time by the hour the martinis could have cost $100 each, and he would still owe me money. Mind you, this was a good 10 years ago, and while it horrifies me that more stories are coming out like this (people, be better), and while I was sassy and confident then, I had no idea of how to respond to this request. WTF is wrong with you didn’t seem like the best option to someone I would most likely have to see again. So, I waited a few days, and then sent an email (crafted meticously with more than one friend) letting Rick know that I was sorry he was so disappointed, that I too was disappointed we didn’t hit it off (loves, I deserve mad points for not letting him know that his baseball story was crazy), and offering to buy rounds when our friend group went out again. I never heard from Rick again.

I dodged a bullet, but now again I wonder about Rick (turns out he found a woman who loved his stories and they have 3 girls–karma is really the best payback) and how many women he tortured.