I should stop being nice and just listen to my gut when it tells me not to go on a date. It’s a different feeling than just not wanting to go out. Part of being introverted involves feeling like your home is the only safe place on earth. Those days happen perpetually and can’t be predicted. Part of getting to know myself is discovering the line between anxiety and introversion. We all have layers of stress affecting our psyche in a myriad of ways. The only universal truth is that too much of it is bad.

Skipping out on a date when I feel introverted is relatively easy now. I simply inform the other party that I’m not able to make it. I used to struggle with guilt about canceling and convince myself I’d go anyway. The hours tick away like the timer on a bomb until I finally cancel at the last minute or worse, completely stand someone up. Now my standard for guilt is only when I completely forget about something. That’s just fucking flaky. After the worst date I’ve had in recent memory, gut checks apply to my second dates from now on.

First dates are virtually harmless. The worst thing that happens is wasted time. Everyone has at least one thing that is vaguely interesting about them. That’s all the fodder I need for a first encounter. It it’s truly bad, they don’t last more than an hour. I’ve had some persistent fellows try to wait me out by continuing to drink with me until 2am or later. They seem to believe I require them to get home. I never go on a first date anywhere I can’t walk home from. Learned that in week one. Good first dates usually do get a chance to see me home. Great first dates even get invited inside sometimes.

Second dates are where things most often go sideways. That’s when I find out how well I paid attention. Since I live in Seattle, I require public first dates. I can understand having a second date at your home if you live in the burbs but I’m literally adjacent to just about anything you might think is fun. I don’t want to watch a movie on our second date unless it’s in a hotel room after the downtown party we attended. (Remind me to tell you about the best first date ever, btw.) Cooking for me in your home is very romantic but at date #2 I’d rather leave the food to someone else while we actually chat. I guess I’m high maintenance.

The WORST second date offer is to meet you after you get off work. While that might be a practical time for you to multitask your free time in the city, part of what I’m looking for on a second date is you making an actual effort to spend time with me. Not the leftover time you have on a Monday night after 11pm because that’s when you get out of work and you are already downtown anyway. That sort of arrangement is reserved for people I’m dating in the double digits. I’m fairly accommodating as to where I’ll meet someone the second time and my primary limit involves bus transfers.

The specific straw that broke this camel’s back is a nice bearded fellow in his early 30s. He tends a bar and that’s where we hung out on our first date. I closed down the place with him where we did some hanky-panky and turned ourselves around. I walked home that night at 5am and stopped by the 5-Point Cafe for the first time. His not offering me part of his cab was the first red flag. It’s only forgivable because I enjoyed the walk. I had a small suspicion that sharing his cab might have resulted in going back to his place, despite protests. A pretty important red flag, but I digress.

The second date came about because he asked me to meet up in Belltown and I was bored. Hindsight is correct – this is not a date I should have taken. Regardless, I end up there with caution tossed casually toward a breeze. The details of how he convinced me to go back to his place are banal and boring. On the ride home he kept putting his hand on my crotch and giving the cab driver wrong directions. At some point the driver had to yell at him to stop fucking around and give him an address. At this point the fare was near $40 and even I thought this guy was trying to run out on his tab.

We finally got dropped off and at this point I am texting friends to see if I can snag a ride back into my area. It became increasingly clear that I wasn’t getting another ride out of my date. It was less clear to him that his ride with me was over but I let him keep offering me dabs until I was done texting. After trying all my viable options I finally ordered my own Uber. It was a $13 mistake and I’m pretty sure I could have done better that night.  It could have been worse and I’m glad it wasn’t. However, this guy has ruined second dates for everyone questionable. At least until I’m old, ugly and desperate.