Ethan is a 33-year-old music-industry executive who lives in Little Portugal. He describes his style as “yuppie hipster” and says he is “pleasant to be around, always up for adventures or a party.” He likes to “eat shitty food and buy records” in his free time. He met Zoe at a dinner party.
Zoe was cool and seemed a bit wild and crazy (in a good way) when we met, so I got her number and kept in touch with her. We were texting back and forth one Friday night, not about anything in particular. I had a show to go to, so I asked her if she wanted to meet up afterwards. I had just gotten out of a serious, long-term relationship, and I’d heard through the grapevine that she had, too.
At her suggestion, I went to her place around 1:30 in the morning, after I’d hung out with the band a bit after the show. My work keeps me out pretty late, and I’m out of town a lot, so finding an understanding girl can be a challenge. When I got there, she pulled out a bottle of cheap wine and poured us a couple of glasses. Her kitchen was filthy, full of dirty dishes, but the glasses were clean. She seemed really cute; she had a natural and relaxed look and was very pretty. We sat outside on the stoop and drank and talked until it got chilly, then went in the house and, later, to her room.
I’d say the conversation flowed pretty well. She was funny and smart, and we had a lot to say to each other, so I didn’t have to dig too much. We talked about books we liked, the records that we grew up loving, how we like to listen to music, and Toronto’s citizens’ current fascination with foodies. We also talked about where we saw ourselves in five to 10 years. She’s a bit younger than me, and I could tell she wasn’t as sure of herself and her future as I am.
She put on a Doors record. I fucking hate The Doors, and immediately lost a little respect for her. I’d lose respect for anyone who thought The Doors are a cool band to like. I excused myself to consider my options and went to the bathroom. That really made my decision to leave easy. Her bedroom was messy, but the bathroom was like a crime scene—stains on the floor, which was covered in hair of varying lengths, and an overflowing garbage can. It really looked like it had never been cleaned.
I went back to Zoe’s room to wrap things up. She took this as a sign to try to seal the deal and started trying to make out with me. I backed away, and told her I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. It was an obvious lie, but I was drunk and not very sharp, and she called me on it. I just left as quickly as possible; it was about as close to running off into the night as I could get. I haven’t heard from her since, for some reason.
Ethan rates his date (out of 10): 6
Want to be a dating diarist? We’re looking for new contributors, especially guys! Tell us about your best, worst, or craziest date at firstname.lastname@example.org.