Dating / Mary Carmichael

100% chance of rain, 0% chance of a third date

Dear diary,

Remember Karl? I managed to survive the texting week from hell and decided to power through a second date, despite feeling apprehensive about him and almost cancelling. But our first date had gone so well, I was determined to give him a shot. Maybe we could just fix the texting thing, I had thought. Little did I know.

It was early spring and he  planned for us to have a Saturday pool date. Come Friday, though, the forecast for Saturday showed rain with a high of 60, so I suggested we see a movie instead. He responded, “We’ll make the decision about whether or not we go to the movies when you arrive. Hopefully by that time the sun will be out and I can see you in a bathing suit.”

By the time I got ready, it was still raining. I told him (again) the weather wasn’t good and we should do a movie. He said: “You’re right bring a bathing suit we can do the pool after.”

I ignored the text. I had no intention of packing a bathing suit.

I picked the movie I wanted and offered to buy our tickets beforehand, but he told me I’ll never spend money on a date with him. I thanked him, assumed he bought the tickets, and ubered to his apartment.

When Karl met me down in the lobby, he was wearing a bathing suit. It was actively raining and cold, I had told him we were going to the movies not the pool, and yet he was wearing a bathing suit.

When we got to his apartment he introduced me to his roommate by saying, “This is the girl I’ve been telling you about.,” which would’ve been sweet had I known him for longer than a week.

He gave me a tour of his place, asked me if I liked it, then added “because I want to have you here a lot more.” I awkwardly smiled. As soon as we walked into his room, he immediately started making out with me. After I few seconds I tried to nicely suggest he change so we could head to the movie.  “Oh wait I have to give you your gift!” he exclaimed excitedly.

My gift…? “What??”

He opened his top dresser drawer and handed me a bright red Caps shirt. Women’s small. The tag was still on. And then I realized he had bought it for me that week. After knowing me for three days.

“Oh wow!” Literally WHAT. Why did he do this? I didn’t know him! I don’t even like hockey.

He told me I had to wear it when we watched the game together the next day. We hadn’t made plans to watch the game together and I sure as hell wasn’t about to make any. I told him something about needing to watch Game of Thrones with some friends instead. He told me that was fine but I would have to wear it and send him a picture of me in it.

To this day, I’ve never worn the shirt.

After the shirt incident he suggested we “watch a movie here,” as in his room, on his bed. (He hadn’t bought any movie tickets.) I agreed, only because I knew going to the movies would take longer and I wanted to leave sooner rather than later. To curb any expectations I was sure he had, I (probably too abrasively) added a “but we’re not going to do anything besides make out.”

We watched The Martian. Which, by the grace of God, has no sex scenes. He had suggested 50 Shades of Grey (EW) which I had immediately vetoed. And while The Martian provided the perfect non-romantic plot, it was also LONG. Three hours long. The time crawled by.

Unless I really like someone, I’m not a big cuddler. Unfortunately, this guy I barely knew didn’t catch on. He stroked my arm, my legs, my side, and spontaneously kissed me everywhere as I awkwardly moved my head around him to watch the movie. He spent hours nuzzling his head in my neck as I cringed. At one point he even said: “Turn over, I miss you!” We were literally spooning when he said that.

By the time the movie ended, he had asked me to stay for dinner and to come to a party with him that night and to get brunch with him the next day. I had politely declined every offer. He wasn’t horrible, but I wasn’t interested. The first date spark had faded due to my own apprehensions and his pushiness.

After a rather uncomfortable chat on his balcony about each of our intentions (definitely worth its own blog post), he told me he’d drive me home. Btw – he was still in his bathing suit.

I hadn’t rejected him yet, but before I left I told him I wasn’t ready to rush into anything and would prefer we take things much slower. I figured I could decide after that date if I could do a date three.

Ten minutes after he dropped me off I got this text:


There was no date three.


Mary C

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