I was meeting a guy at a bar for brews. Pretty standard, including my practice of making a friend when I entered the bar in case my date turned out to be scary. In this instance I made friends with the bouncer while I scanned the bar looking for my date.
I see my date. Flag #1: The ponytail. I have always had an aversion to guys with long hair, especially hair that is long enough to require hair ties. I would not be able to get past the long, curly hair. How did I miss that in the online picture sharing?!
Dates are supposed to be practice, though, so I walked over to him and pulled up a stool. He was on the corner so I took the seat on the other corner and to my right there was another guy.
Turns out my date knows this guy, who turned out to be an officer in the Chicago Brewing Society. Flag #2: Rather than moving us somewhere where we could be alone to get to know each other, he leaves me in the middle of himself and another beer fanatic. This allows them to then spend the next hour and a half talking about beer.
Don’t get me wrong, some of it was very interesting and I learned a lot about brewing beer (and mead), the Chicago Beer Society and their field trips, going to beer competitions and also the psychotropic affects of sage. Very educational.
I also learned that my date's ex-girlfriend was an IT manager (in response to his asking what I did for a living), that he was unemployed (in response to me asking what he was doing professionally since he had lost his recent brewer job), and that the 50 or so gallons of beer he had brewed in his basement were actually in his parent’s basement, where he lived. Oh he also grew pot at his parent’s house. Flag #3, for living at the p’s, and that’s generous considering the rest of the things I had learned about him.
After awhile I zoned out of the beer conversation and made “help me!” faces to the bouncer as he walked back and forth. I ended the date early, stating the always lame excuse of having an early day and declining his suggestion that we grab food somewhere else. When he reluctantly walked me out of the bar I mouthed to the bouncer that I’d come back and give him the details.
Before unnecessarily walking me to my car my date asked if I wanted to meet his dog, who apparently was in his car. Final flag, although really things were already over. Who brings a dog on an inside date only to leave him in the car? In the winter?
After sneaking back into the bar I shared another few brews and a lot of laughs with my new friend the bouncer. The night wasn’t a waste, after all! I didn’t get the bouncer’s number, but I should have. He was a cool dude.
The Worst Date Ever: in which I meet an unemployed, pot-smoking dude who brews beer in his parent’s basement
Tuesday, August 11, 2009