One date, a man showed up 30 minutes late, talked to me until the cafe closed, told me how much he liked me, and ghosted me two weeks later. That’s when I realized dating might be a form of emotional Russian roulette.
I’ve been on enough bad first dates to qualify for hazard pay. At this point, I could probably write a dissertation on awkward silences and performative masculinity. Every time I think I’ve seen it all, the universe hands me another story that starts with, “So there I was…” and ends with me questioning the entire concept of romance.
There’s the Venmo Philosopher, who splits the check down to the cent but somehow thinks he’s being “modern” about it. Bonus points if he says, “I’m just being fair.” There’s also the Food Minimalist, who orders a single appetizer “for the table,” eats it all himself, and then asks me to just share or order a small thing because he’s on a budget.
Wow.
Not wanting to spend money on a first date is totally fine, but why would YOU invite me to a restaurant for ME to pay? Take me on a walk if your wallet is that thin. I would enjoy it much more than having to send Venmo payments to a man I just met.
There’s the guy who asked me to go roller skating, then complained for the entire date about how far the roller rink was from his house. I made a joke, and he genuinely snapped at me, and I never wanted to leave a place faster in my entire life.
There’s also the chronic ghosters, who constantly make plans just to fall through on them (sorry, that was me for a bit, as well). But that’s a tell-tale sign you’re not ready to see new people. The thrill of talking to a new person is great, but the way you make them feel when you keep canceling is not so much.
I’ve probably been someone else’s bad date, too. Maybe I laughed too loudly or accidentally trauma-dumped between appetizers. But that’s the thing about dating, you’re always learning the etiquette in real time, and sometimes the only way to know what not to do is to do it.
Some dates are just … weird. Like the date who confessed he’d already picked our wedding song halfway through our drinks. Or, the one who told me he “manifested” me, which, to be fair, did explain why he stared at me like he was trying to summon me into existence. Sometimes, being that into someone is scary, like, I think you might kill me scary.
If you’re looking for actual advice buried in this emotional car crash of anecdotes, here it is: the best first dates don’t feel like auditions, but like conversations. You shouldn’t be so focused on being your best self that you forget to be your real self. And if you find yourself Googling “how to escape through a restaurant bathroom window,” that’s probably not your person.
I’ve learned that bad first dates make for good stories, and good stories make for great perspective. Every “never again” moment sharpens your sense of what you actually want, and what you’ll never tolerate again.
So, in the spirit of public service, here are some quick things not to do on a first date:
Don’t mention your ex’s astrological chart.
“Oh, you’re an English major? What do you plan on doing with that?” (with a laugh)
Don’t mansplain Formula 1 racing to me, ask me on a second date, and then ghost me.
Don’t say “you’re not like other girls” unless you want me to run away.
Don’t eat smelly food and then ask to kiss … on a first date.
Don’t invite me back to your dorm on a first date, call your roommates right in front of me to kick them out of the dorm, or I will call my friend, fake an emergency, and leave.
In relation to that last note, don’t ask your date to a secondary location unless previously accepted before the date. It’s scary, and I do not want to be kidnapped.
Somewhere out there, amid the chaos of bad dates, someone will surprise you by being kind, curious, and actually listening. Until then, consider every awkward evening a research study in human behavior, and a reminder that your worst date still makes better content than your best situationship.
