Swiping + Kettle Chips + one handsy prick = no more online dating…EVER
Nearly ten years after my first foray into online dating where I was deemed “not matchable at this time” by eHarmony (*cough* an online dating website launched in 2000 *cough*), I decided after a rough breakup, it was time to try again.
Online dating had evolved. One night stands had a quicker turnaround than UberEats and I’d been to several weddings with an online dating origin story. Surely that meant there would be something in this digital world for me.
I stewed over my profile and curated a selection of pictures that didn’t exactly hide my chubbiness, but also didn’t highlight it. I made a few pop culture references, talked about my dog, and went live.
Some kind of sorcery led from me being “unmatchable” to getting 32 hits in less than 20 minutes. Common sense should’ve told me that eHarmony’s clientele was drastically different than Tinder’s, but I was too excited by the prospect of so many free dinners to care. Most conversations felt like a job interview. Others started good but pivoted to “do you want to see a picture of my dick?” WAY too quickly. And let’s be honest, no one’s dick looks impressive on a screen that small (take note, men).
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After some sifting, I selected two dates. Date #1 was a guy named Caleb who took me to see a movie. He seemed nice enough, not enough sparks for a love connection, but enough for a one night stand later on.
I don’t remember the name of Date #2, but I sure as hell remember the date. Less than five minutes in, I’m perusing the menu and this mother fucker’s hand lands firmly on my upper inner thigh. Now, I’m no prude, I’ve done some kinky shit. But the drinks hadn’t come yet, I hadn’t decided if I liked this guy, I didn’t even know his Hogwarts house! This hand didn’t belong anywhere near my vagina. I squeezed my legs together tight, and pried his hand away from my cash and prizes region.
I never played sports, but as I batted away his below the belt advances, I felt like a goalie who just happened to be listening to some douchebag talk about craft beer and football.
In retrospect, I should’ve just walked out. But as sassy as I am, I’m still a people pleaser who hates creating uncomfortable situations. It was just one dinner, how much worse could it get?
Finally, the food arrived. His hands were blissfully occupied and I was able to dive into my burger. After a few bites of kettle chips, I felt a distinct CRACK in the back of my mouth. I wiggled my tongue around and felt a gigantic hole in my gums where a tooth used to be. I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. The lighting was inconveniently dim, so I turned on my phone’s flashlight and searched my mouth in the mirror as drunk girls stumbled behind me bouncing to the bass of the music. Sure enough, the majority of my tooth was missing. Presumably I swallowed it along with the “O.M.G. 2.0 Burger.”
I slunk back to the table and told Mr. Handsy I’d broken a tooth and had to get home. He feigned concern, rubbing the top of my thigh as I continued scooting further away. I took the remainder of my burger to go and offered to pay for my half of the meal. He walked me to my car, insisting that we should go back to his house for a bottle of wine. I awkwardly opened my mouth showing him my missing tooth and said, again, I just wanted to go home. Even after seeing the damage, he leaned in and kissed me firmly on the mouth. I quickly pulled away, trying to point out that when one’s mouth is hurt, it’s not a good time to kiss them. He apologized and made a joke about how he usually brings his dates pleasure, not pain (I somehow doubted this).
After calling my ex-boyfriend in tears to get the information for our dentist and a panicked call to my Dad asking for money, I went home, got drunk, and deleted the app.
No date should require that much effort and a $700 or over P30,000 dental bill, amirite??
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Words Nicole Caliro
Art Matthew Fetalver
