I’m fortunate to have only five really bad dates in my dating life.

So bad that I came home and contemplated my life choices. So bad that I googled “joining a convent” even though I’m an atheist, have never been catholic, and got kicked out of Sunday school. So bad that I would watch Van Wilder, Nina Simone starring Zoe Saldana, AND 50 Shades of Grey before repeating any of these dates.

Get comfy. It’s story time…

I had recently come out of mourning the end of my long-term relationship. I was ready to date, but realized I sucked at flirting. So I sat in front of my computer and signed up for a dating site. After a few weeks, I met “Jacques”.

Jacques was witty, charming, and cute. He was from the Ivory Coast, and joked about teaching me proper French. When we eventually traded numbers, his accent was tres bien…even though he didn’t speak much.

I agreed to lunch. I had a day free and could meet him at spot near his office.

I arrived about 15 minutes before the agreed upon time, made myself comfy at our meeting spot, and waited for Prince Charming’s arrival…

and waited…

Waited some more…

Texted…

Waited…

ONE. HOUR. LATER.
(that’s 45 minutes after the appointed meeting time)

He apologizes. I take a deep breath and think, “well at least he’s tall, dark and…wait”

He had a triangular head. The back of his skull met in a point. His head was shaped like a triangle. This would explain why his profile pics were all in shadows.

We had agreed to meet for lunch at Movenpik Marche…if you’re unfamiliar with the concept of the Marche, you would go in, grab your “passport” and visit any of the food stations you wanted. They would stamp your passport with your choices, and when you were leaving, you’d present your passport to the cashier to pay for your items. Jacques and I split up and agreed to meet back at our table. I decided to order steak et frites and a glass of wine. The steak would take some time to cook, so I returned to the table with my wine…

(AHEM. Before you start snarking about $200 dates, I had already decided to #treatmyself and pay my fair share. Hush.)

To see Jacques eating a small salad.

A strapping 6 foot 3 man was eating a small salad. To put this into perspective for you, a small salad came in a bowl the size of a saucer. I thought to myself, “maybe, like me, he’s waiting for food to be cooked and is starting with his appetizer…”

No. He wasn’t.

To make room on your tables, the restaurant had staff come by and take your trays for you. One such lady did that and stopped short when she noticed I was having steak. She returned Jacques’ tray and he said “no. I’m okay.”

She side eyed his tiny plate, gave me a look of pity and left…

I went and got my steak et frites…sat down and started to talk…to myself. I tried to get him to speak in English and/or French and he wouldn’t. He stared at me.

Like this:

THIS isn’t flattering. It’s unnerving.

Back to Jacques and his salad (which he finished in about six bites). I offered him some of my food and he declined. I insisted, because I’m thinking that maybe dude couldn’t afford anything else…

“Non non… I’m full. I had a big meal before meeting you”

You’re meeting me. For our LUNCH date…and you pre-ate? I understand that some guys rub out a quick one before they have sex. But pre-eating before a meal based date? That HE suggested?

It turns out that Jacques was full — and LATE — because there was an impromptu staff party in his office. So he decided to stay…and eat…and have dessert…

For. FORTY. FIVE. MINUTES.

This isosceles-headed motherfucker CHOSE to keep me waiting so that he could eat cake?

I continued to eat my frites in silence and then…he spoke! To tell me that we would need to finish soon (#ThankYouBlackJesus) because he couldn’t be late for a meeting back at the office (MOTHERFUCKER). So we went to go pay…

He fumbled for his wallet and I snatched his passport — with the $3.96 salad on it — and paid for our meals. The cashier smiled and said, “awe! Your girlfriend is treating — “

We parted ways. He asked what my plans for the rest of the day were. I said I was meeting a friend for their birthday (true). He made a halfhearted suggestion to talk that evening (HAH!) and I half heartedly agreed. Relief flooded my soul when I realized that it was OVER.

But Jacques learned to talk. From 6 pm onwards he called me TEN TIMES. Then he started texting:

“ARE YOU FREE TO TALK NOW?”

He called the next day… and the day after that…and the day after that…

When he realized that I was ignoring his calls, he started to call me from his office…and then his house…and possibly once from a payphone. He called almost daily for the next four months.

Too late…

– RED FLAG

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