The other day, I had this bizarre first (and last) date. After becoming acquainted in an online dating forum, we agreed to meet at his place for a drink. When I arrived, he asked me what I wanted; I requested a water. As soon as he filled my glass, he pulled out a plate, a lighter, a spoon and some other drug paraphernalia.
“That’s an odd way to fix a drink,” I quipped. He asked me if I wanted to join him.
Guess he interpreted my support for drug legalization to indicate that I was not averse to dating a man who did drugs — and that I used them myself.
Realizing then how uninterested I was dating that man, I debated how best to handle the situation. Should I just tell him as much and leave or be a gentleman and stay? I decided to split the difference, be gentleman, but make clear that I couldn’t date a guy who did drugs. He insisted I stay, so I obliged him. We chatted for maybe an hour and I took my leave, saying I needed to finish some things up before bed.
As I drove home, relieved that I was free, I recalled a similar date with a man I had met online. Wisely, he and I got together at a coffee shop. As the conversation began, I realized we had little in common and pondered how long I should stay before taking my leave. All of a sudden, he said something like, “Look, Dan, I’m just not feeling it, so let’s not waste each other’s time.” I smiled internally, shook his hand and returned home, relieved as I had been recently, but having lost far less time with an incompatible date.
Gentleman he may not have been, but honest he was. The other night, I should have followed his lead.