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Hipsters Don't Lie

Mar 1, 2011

As much as I loathe online dating, I keep an Ok Cupid account online because A) it's free and B) eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeevery once in a while a "good" one comes along. 
"Good" =
1)  doesn't solely comment on my looks
2)   is employed
3)   is not more than 10 years older than me (and definitely not 20 years older) but not more than two years younger
4)  doesn't spend the entirety of his profile talking about his kids
5)  has no semi-nude photos up, presumably to impress the ladies (it doesn’t) (and please, for the love of all that is good, no crotch shots)
In the past I’ve judged by these standards, as well as various others that included looks, education, occupation, location, hairstyle, fashion sense, height, and teeth, at the minimum.  The one “good” one in the past six months, Astronaut Mike Dexter, made me exert all kinds of energy by texting, emailing, and waiting, waiting, waiting for a single date then mysteriously disappeared out of my life and my Android.  He met the requirements of all the above.
So, when I received a message from The Hipster, who asked me the most interesting thing anyone’s ever asked me over a dating website, I thought, If the square ones aren’t working then maybe someone who doesn’t have those qualities will.
He was cute-ish, described himself as skinny and  5’11”.  His hair was kind of messy in most of the pictures, but it was fine.  He didn’t smile...bad teeth? I worried.  I also worried that he was skinnier than I am [not].  He was 26, three years younger than I am, which worried me because Cute Boy was 24 and it just couldn’t work (he loved pointing out that I was an “older woman,” and after a while, that got old).  He had a job, as an illustrator.  (I decided not to be judgmental and just see it as cool and creative, and good for him for having that sort of job in DC.)  And he talked a lot about some new genre of music I’ve never heard of, electro pop.  Sooo…no Britney? 
It didn’t matter.  I hadn’t been on a date in almost a month and I needed some male attention. 
We made a date for Friday night at Churchkey.  I let him make the plans, because that is one thing I won’t hedge on – the guy must take control of the date.  All day Friday I was kind of nervous, as I always feel before a blind date.  It’s a mixture of being excited about the possibility of meeting someone great, the fear of being roofied and murdered, and the nervousness of figuring out the perfect outfit.  To quell this, I opted to switch out my work slacks for jeans but keep everything else the same.  Put together but not too much thought put into it.  Conservative yet cute.  Effortless and accessible while still being flirty and feminine.  Oooh, well maybe I should change my necklace.  And add some more mascara.  Yes, yes, that is perfect.  Okay. 
I looked at myself in my floor length mirror.  In boot cut jeans, black flats, a 3-quarter sleeve ruffled button down and black sweater vest, I was far from hipster.  He was going to take one look and know it wasn’t going to work out.  I put on my white puffy coat and headed out anyway.
When I arrived at Churchkey, I looked around on the sidewalk to see if I recognized him.  Nope.  It was windy and cold, so I stepped inside to wait.  I finally got a text: “Looking for parking.”  I’m a big believer in making a guy wait, but the other way around?

(Please refrain from sending me comments about what a stuck up beeyatch I am.  Any Southern woman will agree with me, I’m sure.)
I stifled my annoyance.  It was no big deal -- parking is tough on 14th Street on a Friday night.  For the next 15 minutes my stomach flipped every time the door opened, magnifying my ever-growing hunger.  Finally he walked in, wearing ankle length skinny jeans, beat up, black, lace-up ankle boots, a cropped jacket, and some sort of hipster pompadour. 
Oh my gosh.  WHY are we putting ourselves through this?  I thought.  But we both sucked it up.  Well, sort of. 
“It sounds awfully crowded up there,” he said, looking up the stairs with a scowl on his face.
“Yep, probably.  It’s Friday night at Churchkey,” I replied.  I mean, it was his choice to go there.  Surely he must have known what it would be like. 
“Let’s go somewhere else, I don’t like this,” he said, turning toward the door.
“Okay.”  I was confused.  He obviously hadn’t made reservations anywhere, and any bar was going to be packed.  But I followed him out into the cold, wandering aimlessly up the sidewalk toward U Street. 
He wasn’t making any suggestions, so after a while, when I saw Estadio, I said, “Do you like Spanish tapas?  We should try there.” 
Estadio was crowded – not surprising – but the wait was only 30 to 45 minutes.   Not bad at all.  I smiled at him, pleased that we’d found a place.
“I am NOT waiting 30 minutes, let’s go,” he said.
So we kept walking, on up to Saint Ex.
“What about Saint Ex?” I said.
“I know for a fact it will be crowded.  No thanks.”
“Okay, how about Bar Pilar?”
“It will probably be crowded too.”
But he humored me and we looked inside.  Seats were actually available in the back, and for a moment I thought we might sit down.  My stomach flipped again, this time over excitement for the prospect of food.
“I am not in the mood for this,” he said, turning on his heel and walking out.

We kept walking until we reached a little Mexican restaurant that was virtually empty.  I’d passed it before and always gotten the heeby jeebies.  If a place is always empty, that's usually a sign it's not all that good.  The Hipster thought otherwise.
“This looks great!” he said, smiling for the first time that night.  I noticed his teeth were fine, but at this point it wasn’t a relief. 

We had our choice of tables, and I was so hungry I didn’t care that the lighting was green and a telenovela was playing on a TV across the room which I could watch because the walls were mirrored.  The waitress came over and I quickly asked for loaded nachos and sangria.
“Ugh, they do not have good beer here,” The Hipster said. 

That's why you go to Churchkey!!! my inner monologue screamed.
“Just get sangria, it’s fruity and delicious,” I replied dryly.  “Are you getting any food?”
“No, I ate before.”
Normally I would be self conscious to be the only one eating, but I was so over the date, the silences weren’t even awkward.  I just wanted to have dinner and go home.
But for some reason we attempted conversation.  Here’s what we have in common:
1)      The X-Files (which he informed me you can watch on Netflix Instant Play)
2)      Zombie movies (but he has not seen “The Walking Dead”)
That’s it. 
Once we’d both decided we’d had enough, we walked back outside.  He didn’t know what to say, so I filled in the blank: “My apartment’s that way, so, bye!”
On the way home I decided not to blog about the date.  It had been so boring and such a waste of time, and I didn’t want to subject my readers to the details.
But the next day he texted me.
“Hey, sorry if I seemed unfriendly last night!  I’m not used to being out with someone 3 years older, 3 inches taller, 3 times more mature, with their life 3 times more put together, and I felt a bit out of place.  Not your fault! (obviously)”
And that is why you stick to the standards.  For everyone’s sake.


  1. I think I would have bailed after he rejected ALL of my suggestions. Hipsters aren't my cup of tea either, but I give you credit for pushing through. The next one will be better!

  2. I loved everything about this post and will be bookmarking it to refer back to the next time I'm considering compromising on my standards.

  3. That sounds terrible! At least you were finally able to eat!

  4. Ohmygosh! My mouth dropped open at the text. I mean, I suppose he was trying to be complimentary and that's nice that he took the time to communicate it, but still seems rather bold to say all that. Too funny!

    Although, I do still kinda believe in looking for someone outside "the standards."

  5. I know the mexican food restaurant you are talking about & my heart goes out. I'll take dessert at Saint Ex anyday? Great story though.

  6. As bad as the date was, at least he acknowledged that it was bad because of him. Well, actually, it was bad because of you....but only because YOU were so much better than HIM.

  7. Don't lose all hope in looking outside the box. I think it all depends on which standards are allowed to be flexible.
    On another note, he is really giving a bad name to hipsters. I've met some awesome hipsters and this guy just sounds like a jerk. I mean, who eats before a There were a number of things this guy was weird on but that one just bugs me the most.

  8. Ok yeah, I thought I had some bad dates. You should get a medal for that ordeal.

    I mean, if he was so out of place, he would have chosen to stay at a place that was crowded, blamed his nervousness and aloofness on the fact that he had a hard time hearing you, and then had a couple adult beverages to calm his ass down.

  9. Wow, I am impressed you stayed as long as you did! That attitude would have made me bail early for sure! But you can't say you didn't try, put it all down to experience :)

    Em x

  10. I've definitely had my fair of bad dates. However, I always had a good time because I normally suggested something I wanted to do anyway - like a hike, super fast go-cart racing, dinner at a place I had been wanting to try. That way, if they turned out to be lame, I would at least have checked something off my bucket list. And I compromised my standards often, if someone meets all your obvious criteria, there is probably something wrong with them you'll find out about 6 months later. Good story though, thanks for sharing!

  11. Ouch girl!!! Tough one. -T.

  12. I'm with T on this. Ouch!

    I'm really alarmed these sort of guys exist.

  13. I can't believe you actually went through with the ENTIRE date!

  14. Your dating stories are hilarious. Maybe I should try it someday just to have good stories to share. ;-)

  15. Girrrrrl, that's the only reason I bother. Too depressing otherwise!