#bestworstdate

[best-worst-date]

So I guess we’ll go Dutch…

We met at a bar not far from my office for an early evening drink. He was nice enough, but the conversation felt a little awkward and forced. After about 45 minutes we got our bill, which was half off due to a Happy Hour special we weren’t aware of. He flipped it over and suggested we split it. The total was $7, so I told him I’d cover it.

[best-worst-date]

Turns out he thought he was a pretty big deal.

We met for drinks, and he spent much of the time telling me about the prestigious private high school he went to, followed by the not really a big deal, not quite Ivy League college. Then gushes about his super important job and amazingly talented children. I pushed my sleeve up to scratch my wrist as he talked, and he noticed my tattoo. He inquired if that was my only. I replied no, I had more, and asked if he had any. He leaned back in his chair, placed both arms behind his head and let out a long sigh. “Of course not,” he replied, and gestured his hand down his body, “you don’t put a bumper sticker on a Ferrari.”