bad first dates, part II.
Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from posting bad first dates, part I, it’s that y’all love to hear about my dating woes and also, some of you have been on some brutal dates yourself. 😅
It’s fine. If we don’t laugh, we’ll cry, amiright?
While I can’t promise to top ‘the one with the fingers’, I present to you another BFD (bad first date), circa 2018.
The one with the dad-crush:
Every Spring/Summer, my dad and I enjoy going to the nearby flat-track races. We have some friends who race, and it’s a really fun, albeit dirty way to spend a Saturday night. If you don’t know what flat-track racing is, you can learn more here. The track is small (1/4 mile dirt track), the people are chill, there’s usually some sort of food truck and the sunsets are always STUNNING. Perfect, casual venue for a first date, right?
Not so fast.
I matched with this guy, Blake*, who was a couple years older than me and was in medical school to be an Orthopedic Surgeon. Impressive. He was more of a country boy, in that he grew up riding horses and dirt bikes on farmland, drove some sort of 4x4 and wore cowboy boots. We talked for about a week and got along really well, so on a whim, I invited him to come to the flat-track races that weekend. I told him my dad would be there, and he said he’d love to meet “the man who raised such an angel” — to which I was like oh, okayyyyy. 💁🏻♀️
He’d asked if he could pick me up and I said sure (because my dad would already be at the track and I’d just catch a ride home with him). Now, this was my 30th first date, but the first date jitters never really go away. As I anxiously peered out my window waiting for my diesel chariot to arrive, I was semi-stressed out about if his truck was lifted or not. And hear me out… that sort of logistic matters a great deal because I have some residual trauma from another first date where the guy picked me up and his truck was SO lifted (with no side rails), which meant that I needed a running start to get in. Now, I didn’t get that head start, so as I lept, I took hold of the grab-handle, and as I was pulling myself up and in, I lost my footing, slipped, and rotated a full 180-degrees meaning that I was now hanging there by one arm, suddenly face-to-face with this guy, just like “hehe, uhm, hi.” He was like “Ohp. Oh no. Here. Let me help you.” It was v awkward. So anyway, Blake showed up. I came outside, surveyed the truck and there was a foot-step. Phew.
The drive to the track was about 15 minutes, so I tried to break the silence with some small talk. He told me I looked beautiful, I said thanks, and that he looked good, too. I also thanked him for driving, to which he replied, “Sure. You can pay for our track tickets though, since I used all this gas to get up here and I’m in medical school, so money is tight.” Now, I truly don’t expect guys to pay for things on first dates (even though it is a v nice gesture), and with the dating bar being so low, I thought that was reasonable so, I said, “Yes! Happy to. No problem.” Cue awkward silence.
To cut the crickets, I started asking him about medical school, figuring he would have much to say about that. I asked him why he wanted to be a surgeon, thinking that he probably had a passion for Sports Medicine or he loved the idea of helping those who’re crippled or debilitated become mobile again. HAHA, I wish. He said (and I quote):
“I want to be an Ortho because there’s nothing better than getting paid top dollar to cut flesh open with a fresh scalpel. I’m telling you… Using a saw to cut through bones intentionally is THE most exhilarating rush you’ll ever get even though I only do it on cadavers at this point. It’s all so fascinating and it’s never boring.”
Gulp.
Suddenly, I begin to sweat internally, thinking about every episode of Dateline NBC I’d ever seen, wondering if my mace would be any match for a man with a scalpel.
Did he just say he likes to cut people open?
Why is he smiling like that?
Surely he is kidding…
He is kidding, right?
He looked over at me — “I’m serious. It’s so awesome! I’ve got my surgery kit in the back if you want to see it!” — “No, no, I’m good. Thanks though!”
Minutes that felt like hours later, we pulled up to the track. I paid, still recovering from his Ted Bundy-esque admission, and as we got parked and he started to see and hear the motorcycles, he got GIDDY. He was so excited — “This is so awesome! I love motorcycles. Thanks for bringing me here!” We got out, got acquainted, I introduced him to my dad, my friends, and we were ready to rumble.
As we stood in the pits waiting for the heats to start, he told our group, “Man, Kaylee didn’t tell me there was also motocross tracks here, I would’ve brought my dirt bike and done some laps!” and then he turned to me, with a sad face, “Why didn’t you tell me?” In my mind I was like ‘Uhh, because I thought this was supposed to be a date, not a track day, bro!’
This sparked a shift in conversation to motorcycles — what kind he and his friends had, his history of riding, how he just got a brand new Honda CRF250R, how his best friend Jimmy raced in AMA Pro, how he got bike parts at a discount, how he technically isn’t supposed to ride because he could damage his surgery hands… this man went on and on and ON — telling my dad and anyone nearby who would listen. In his defense, he really did know a lot about bikes, and our group was pretty responsive to his jabber, so I went with the flow, too.
I went to grab my jacket from the car and when I got back to the pits, no one was there — everyone (including him) had gone up to the stands to watch the first heat. As I got over there, he was standing next to my pops, still talking about motorcycles. It’s at this point I realized he had a one-track mind and didn’t want to talk about anything else with anyone else other than my dear old dad. Which was fine. Except that again, this was our first date, and also, even after the races began, he would YELL over the sound of the bikes just to keep talking.
What I learned later was an effort to get a break from the incessant chatting and to also give us some alone time (LOL), my pops left to go talk to one of his old road-racing buddies. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to get back to some non-motorsports conversation and see if we had any spark left. I started asking him about where he was from, what his schedule was like, about his roommates, literally anything to get his mind off of things with two-wheels, but instead of responding to me, he was scouring the pits as if it were a game of Where’s Waldo? Noticing his frantic eye movements, I said, “Hey, are you okay?”
Him: “Yeah, I’m just looking for your dad. I remembered another story I want to tell him.”
Me: “Oh, I think he went to get some food. Do you want to go get some? You can tell me that story on our way over there!”
Him: “No, I’m good, I just want to tell him. You likely won’t understand.”
Me to Me: This is not going well.
A few minutes later, my dad returned to the stands with a burger and fries and stood on the other side of me. Dad to my left, Blake to my right. Suddenly, as I went to say something to Blake about the race we were watching, I realized I was talking to air, because he’d swiftly moved over to the other side of my dad to talk to him. As if I didn’t feel invisible enough already, as we’d gone back to the pits after one of our friends finished their race, one of my other friends asked me, “Hey! Where’s that dude going?” I turned around and realized he had abruptly left the pits and was running to catch up with my dad who had gone to talk to another racer. Is this for real?!
While they were gone… my mom checked in to see how the date was going:
Bahaha.
The guys returned, and Blake came and stood near me. “Your dad is so freaking cool! So many people knew him over there.” I replied, “Yeah! He knows a lot of people here. He is really cool. Best dad I know.”
In a last ditch effort to salvage what was left of the connection we’d built over the last week, I figured I knew enough about racing to contribute to some sort of motorcycle convo. I’d mentioned something about one of the races, when he stopped me mid-sentence and said, “Oh… Yeah, your dad already told me that. Speaking of… where did he go?” Sir, he is in the port-a-potty. Leave him alone!
Now, I would agree with him that my dad is top-tier… However, this dude completely forgot about me and proceeded to just follow my dad around like a puppy for the next hour. Any time I went to say something, he ignored me or would shoosh me, wanting to listen to what my dad was saying. I eventually gave up on trying to make any sort of conversation with him because I a.) clearly had nothing of value to add, b.) wasn’t my dad, and c.) any question he did ask me was about my dad.
What does your dad do for work?
Do you have any pictures from when he used to race?
Do you think he’d want to come riding with me and my friends?
Is that your dads car?
Do you think he’d let me drive it?
Is your dad over there?
Where’d your dad go?
Where’s your dad?
Can I date your dad?
He might as well have said, “Can you leave so I can hang out with your dad?”
By 9 pm, I was OVER it. l missed my dad (😆), and was ready for this bromance to end. After a couple of crashes postponed the Main Events, my pops had somehow managed to evade his new shadow and left us alone in the pits for a bit. At that point, exasperated that I wasn’t my dad, Blake decided it was time to leave — he had a bit of a drive home and wanted to get a head start. He waited for my pops to return to the pits so he could say goodbye, and when he left, he shook my hand, but HUGGED my dad. 😂
Here I was, thinking that the scalpel would be the biggest of my problems… little did I know, my date would trade me in for a date with my dad instead. Maybe my mom was right — maybe he had been talking to cadavers for so long and just needed someone to talk to. Or maybe this is a lesson learned to not bring a guy to hang with your dad on your first date… Either way, that’s the time my date had more of a crush on my dad, than he did on me. 🏁
*Not his real name. Though, I noticed today that the letters of his last name scramble to spell ‘absurd’ so… maybe I should have paid more attention. 😜
