Princess MoMo

Background

To review the initial online dating website message exchange, click here.

His first call to me was on a Tuesday night. We spoke for quite a while. When it was well beyond my bedtime (which is fairly early on week nights – yeah, I’m lame), I said (not verbatim), “Well, I guess we’ll talk some other time…maybe.” He responded (not verbatim), “We’ll talk really soon. I’m not sure about you, but I don’t have conversations like this very often. Most girls I talk to lack substance.” The following day he texted, “Hey, great talk last night, hope your day is going well.” We exchanged a few texts. I informed him that I wanted to occupy Wall Street (NOTE: I AM NOT IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM INVOLVED IN ANY LIBERAL NONSENSE – my intended occupation was for entertainment purposes only).

I do not like driving, but it is a necessity in the suburbia bumblefuck in which I reside. The Saturday immediately following the message exchange with this specimen, I had committed to participate in a date auction to raise money for breast cancer awareness. Said auction was to take place in Hoboken. The specimen lives very close to Hoboken. The Path train to NYC is also in Hoboken. So, because I had already promised to be in Hoboken that Saturday, I wanted to go to Wall Street, and I didn’t want to make a special hour-long trip to meet this specimen, I figured I’d consolidate all of the activities into one day. That was too ambitious.

The Big Day

It was Saturday morning. It dawned on me that if I were really going to go to Wall Street, I would need to acquire walking shoes. In my shoe wardrobe, heels are the 99%. In an effort to redistribute the shoe game, I went on a quest for flats. I failed my first attempt to purchase flats, and instead bought two pairs of heels. When I told my mother of my failed effort, she suggested another store. Off I went. This time, operation #OccupyAShoeStore succeeded. But, shopping escapades are time consuming. It was nearly 3 p.m. by the time I had my walking shoes in hand, or on foot. I ended up lollygagging for an hour and a half before I finally got my act together and decided to leave.

I drove to the specimen’s dwelling. I arrived at nearly 6 p.m. Because I had to be at the date auction around 10 p.m., I decided that it was too late to go to Wall Street. I conveyed my decision to the specimen. I drove into Hoboken and, per his suggestion, we went to an Oktoberfest street fair. Now, one might assume that this Oktoberfest bit was fun. That assumption would be incorrect. The fest was held in a church parking lot, with a live band and more babies (yes, real human babies) in attendance than adults. Needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway, the experience registered low on the fun-o-meter. Next, we went to a sushi place. There, he bored me almost to tears with conversation. Specifically, he had what I perceived as an over-inflated view of his and his siblings’ future success. For example, he said that his friends coin him as the next Bill Gates, one of his brothers is going to be drafted by an MLB team because he has a skill set that no other player in the history of baseball has possessed, and one of his sisters is going to be the President of the US one day because, as a middle-school student, she gets straight A’s and gives the specimen a run for his money brains-wise. Any one of these things alone could have been digestible, but combined, it seemed like a trifecta of bullshit. If it all comes to fruition as he tells it, more power to him. If not, I wish he could refund me the time I spent hearing about it.

Finally, the bill came. As date etiquette dictates, I asked if he wanted to split it. Note, I ordered two sushi rolls, which cost a total of $12.84 (inclusive of sales tax). In response to my offer to go Dutch, he said, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. Am I supposed to agree or not?” I replied that he was supposed to do whatever he thought was right. He said, “Ok, I can cover this and you can just get me a drink later.” Turn off. It’s a first date and a very inexpensive one, at that. Standard dating protocol is that the man should pay for it, no questions asked. In fact, it is such a social norm that the waitress placed the bill next to him, not in the middle of the table.

We exited the sushi place and went to a bar. We each ordered a drink. The bartender, also seemingly familiar with social norms, told him the total, but the specimen looked to me to pay it, which I did.  At this point in the evening, I was no longer interested in conversing, but ke kept asking questions.  One of his questions was, “What is the worst date you’ve been on this year?”  I paused to think about it.  I came to the conclusion that this was the worst one.  As if he read my mind, he said, “Not counting this one of course.”

While at this bar, I was texting one of my girlfriends, who was participating in the date auction with me, regarding whether she was back at her apartment yet so that I could get the eff off of this date. Finally, she texted that she was looking for parking. I rapidly consumed the remainder of my drink and told him that my friend was back and that I had to leave. He finished his drink and I Speedy Gonzales-ed my way out of the bar. While walking me to the MoMo-mobile, he asked how awkward it would be if he just decided to show up at the date auction. I told him it would be very awkward and I beseeched him not to do so. Then, he said, “I just got this text about a private party that involves all of the things you like.” He showed me the text. I saw the name of the sender and said, “Oh, I know him. He’s a promoter in NY. I have him in my phone.” I showed him the contact in my device. He said, “Way to emasculate me.” Finally, we got the MoMo-mobile from which I grabbed my change of attire.  And then, he walked me to my friend’s place and I was thankfully done with this date.

Within the hour, he texted,

“Hey, just wanted to say it was nice meeting u, and although I completely respect your decision, I’m sure by now u realize you’d have a lot more fun hanging out with me tonight than wit a bunch of strangers treating u like a piece of meat. This could be the last gorgeous night of 2011, why waste it in some dive bar when we could be walking along the waterfront enjoying each other’s company?”

The text was another major turn off. First, the “I’m sure you realize you’d have a lot more fun hanging out with me tonight…” language was very presumptuous. Second, that same language reflects poor perception. I couldn’t have been any less engaging or engaged during the last leg of the date. Third, the portion about being treated like a piece of meat was unwarranted. He knew I was doing the auction in connection with a charity. Last, the part about walking along the waterfront is too cliche, and again reflects poor perception. I didn’t respond to the text.

The Aftermath

On Monday, he called. He left a voicemail stating that he was just calling to say hi and to see if I got home okay. I debated whether to fade him (i.e., ignore him until he stopped contacting me) or be direct about my disinterest. The next day, he sent me a message on the dating site.  It said:

Subject line: Yo MoMo
So I’m not sure but it seems like you already tossed me onto your do-not-reply list for some reason, which is cool, but I just wanna clarify that text I sent you after our “date” was mostly sarcasm and written while I was bored waiting for my friends to show up to the bar. For what it’s worth, I thought we had fun, and if u ever find yourself in Hoboken again looking for someone to make fun of hippies and drink with babies, feel free to hit me up sometime.

Well, he finally picked up on my lack of interest.  The quotes around date and his bullshit explanation for the post-“date” text were even more unbecoming.  Also, his assessment that WE had fun is again presumptuous.  He should have just spoken for himself.  Not wanting anymore annoyances from him, I texted him, “I received your messages.  Yeah, I wasn’t really feelin’ it.”  He responded, “Same here, so at least we’re on the same page.  I prefer good/shy girls over serial daters.  What do u look for?”  Really, dawg?  For real? I’m sorry, but I’m not convinced that we were on the same page considering his efforts to prolong the “date” and then his follow up phone call and online dating site message.  Also, there was no need for him to detail his preferences.  And, why attempt to keep the conversation going by asking a question at the end of the text?  Dude, I told you I’m not interested. You claimed to feel the same way. Let it go.