Dating without Expiating, Entry 1: "Jason"

Recently, a friend of mine posted on Facebook asking for stories of bad dates. I knew this was my time to shine since storytelling is (obviously) one of my favorite things to do. Especially when those stories are mostly negative and completely humorous. I tried and tried to think about the worst date I had been on and, to my surprise, none of them were that bad. Honestly, I haven't been on many dates, and the ones I have been on have mostly been mediocre. I settled on a story of what I considered my "worst" date, a date that was bad because I made it that way. But thinking about all the boys that I have been on dates with got me thinking about something new: a date series.
I had the idea to start going on as many dates as possible and writing about them as a sort of memoir of living in Alamance County, but then I realized that I would actually have to be asked on not only one date, but multiple to make that work. And that doesn't look like it's going to happen, so I had to come up with a new plan.
So here it is: I'm going to take all you readers (all three of you) on a journey through my dating life, bad and good, starting in 2012. I have a surprisingly detailed memory when I really set my mind to it, so these stories will likely be a lot more drawn out than they need to be. Hopefully it's somewhat entertaining.

Dating without Expiating, Entry 1: "Jason"

expiate (v.): to do something as a way to show that you are sorry about doing something bad

I guess the first date I ever went on was with the boy who later became my first boyfriend, Jason. First, let me back up to when I first met him.  It was Labor Day weekend 2012, I had just turned 20 and I was looking better than I ever had and, unfortunately, ever will again. Some random Facebook friend who I may have met once in my life invited me to an event near campus: a jungle-themed party at a club benefiting some cheesy college group that I didn’t care about. But what I did care about was a theme party. I was very into theme parties in college (this was probably the only one I actually went to). Anyway, Lenzie and I set out to find cute outfits that afternoon and, after several hours at Walmart, we went home with a whole lot of nothing. I found some camouflage pajama pants and Lenzie found a cheetah-print skirt at the dollar store. But there’s nothing that combat boots, some scissors and a lot of hair spray can’t fix.

I still have this entire outfit

So I get to the club, lookin’ like a drowned, harassed rat and am greeted not by Ms Rose at the door, but our friend Johnny 5-0. Yes, honey, the NYPD shut down the party…

OK that didn’t happen, that was Let’s Have a Kiki.

We got in the ridiculously long line with our other friends and were prepared to wait for a while. Or I was, at least. Lenzie promptly left to go to the front of the line. We assumed she’d be back within thirty seconds after being told to go to the back of the line by the bouncer, but I guess she disappeared. I didn’t really notice; I was drunk and with two boys that I was already in love with (that story to come later. Maybe). We looked up maybe five minutes later and she was strolling into the door, waving back at us peasants.

Once we finally got in, we found Lenzie on the dance floor. She told us she found some people in the front of line that were talking about our hometown, so she made friends with them to get in faster. It was a group consisting of maybe two or three girls and one guy. She pointed at the guy after she told me the story and said “he’s really nice, you should talk to him!” And I responded with “him?! He’s definitely NOT gay.” And that was that. I ended up dancing with a different guy for a little while who was sort of cute. And when I say I was dancing with him, I mean his entire body was somehow off the floor and on top of mine. Have you ever been dancing with someone and just hoping for the end of the song so there’s a natural break for you to politely walk away? That was the case this time, except the songs seemed to never end and I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t say “I’m going to go get a drink!” because I had big black X’s on my hands; and I couldn’t use losing my friends as an excuse because my only friends were dancing right next to us.

That one eventually led to something beneficial: Lenzie found a way to say, loud enough so I could hear her over the music, but not so loud that the other person occupying my body space could hear, that I should go talk to her friend from outside. He was sitting at a bar on the edge of the dance floor. I probably said something nondescript like “hey, I’ll be right back!” and then disappeared.

When I sat down beside this guy, I had little recollection of Lenzie mentioning him earlier, but I stand by what I’m told I said. He didn’t look gay, at least not in the way that me and my friends did (all of us were wearing tiny shorts and makeup; one of us in a fur vest). He was wearing a button-up shirt that I’m guessing was from Tommy Hilfiger, khaki shorts and boat shoes. But he was cute. I introduced myself. His name was Jason.

I don’t remember what Jason and I talked about, but I know I was smiling a lot. And I know my hand was on his knee and partway up his shorts. Looking back, I can’t believe I actually met someone that I immediately liked, but that probably happened a lot more often for me back then. This was the first and only time I ever went out without my phone – the pajama pants cut into 3-inch shorts didn’t exactly have a lot of space for the giant Android phone I was sporting at the time. Plus, we weren’t far from our apartment so if I lost Lenzie, I could be home in a few minutes.

When his friends started urging him to leave, I had to give him my phone number and hope that he was as into me as I was into him. So he left, and I was alone again. I probably left shortly after and ended up alone in my bed by 2am. Somewhere between 2 and 5am, the boy from the dance floor ended up in my bed. Then by 11am, I couldn’t get him out of my bed.

Sometime later after he called a friend to pick him up, I found myself making my way to a football game. Remember, it was Labor Day in North Carolina, so it was hot. And it was football. We got there after kickoff and left before the first quarter was over to go the pool. By the time I laid out my beach towel, I had a text from Jason. We made plans for a date a few days later at a frozen yogurt shop on Franklin St relatively early in the conversation, but continued to text all weekend.

When it was finally the night of the date, I wasn’t as much of a wreck as I would be now. I think one takeaway from all this is that I’m a lot less cool than I was four years ago.

I got home from work at 8:30, then had to meet him at 9:00. I put on my favorite light wash skinny jeans, a yellow v-neck tee shirt and motorcycle boots that I had just bought and was absolutely obsessed with. My roommate approved my outfit and I was on my way.

I got there a little early, but wasn’t concerned because I had a way to occupy myself while I was waiting. Here’s perhaps the strangest part about our first date: my best friend was there with us. I didn’t exactly invite her, but she had to be there. She worked at the frozen yogurt shop. Jason didn’t know this when he asked to meet there and I didn’t know she’d be working that night, but I wasn’t too worried. If it went badly, I’d have her there to distract me. Luckily I didn’t need her to distract me, but she still tried. She doesn’t like when all my attention isn’t on her.

The date, aside from Lenzie bopping around our table every few minutes, was relatively normal. We talked about normal things, plus he told me about coming out to his parents and how they reacted and how it changed their relationship… a little heavy for a first date, but it was relevant and not at all weird. Getting up to leave was the first time in the night when I felt nervous. I had no idea how to end a date: Do we hug? Should I expect him to walk me to my car? Do we kiss? Do we talk about another date? Predictably, I still don’t know the answer to these questions, as you’ll come to learn as this series progresses.

As we walked out the door, we ran into a friend of mine from class who is the most outgoing and overbearing person I’d ever met. I felt so bad talking to her while he just waited, but I didn’t know if I should introduce him. I think she got the hint because she kept the conversation short for the first and only time in our relationship.

I think Jason and I hugged and went our separate ways. It was a really good night and the start of a really good relationship. Maybe the fact that I was distracted by other people was a bad sign, because he ended up dumping me three months later because I was too distracted by other people. Or it wasn’t a sign and I was just a shitty person.