every now and again i venture into the world wide web of online dating, and every time i do (apart from 1 fun guy i dated for a few months last year) i decide that meeting people on the internet is stupid. for some it seems to really work, but i’m a sagittarius. i’m a talker, i flourish in social settings, and love to be the center of attention. within 30 seconds of meeting people i know whether they are someone who would be my friend or not (or in the case of men, whether i will sleep with them or not). none of these things can happen online. however, my sagittarian, optimistic nature has kept me open to the idea that one day i would change my mind. that is until i heard the following online dating horror story.
my friend, montana, had gone to a rooftop party down on wall street and ran into an acquaintance she hadn’t seen in a while. montana and she got into the topic of their dating lives in nyc when the acquaintance told her about a recent online dating experience she had. we’ll call that acquaintance “the lawyer.” the lawyer is a gorgeous, successful attorney who, as most new york women do, was trying to find a decent guy in this city. a friend suggested she try match.com. skeptical at first, she gave it a try and actually started talking to a guy who sparked her interest. they decided on dinner at the palm. he is an i-banker, lives in the city, great looking, sharp clothing and when the lawyer arrived was on his 2nd scotch, but who isn’t a bit heavy-handed with the drink when meeting blind dates, right?
they sat at the bar and the lawyer, who doesn’t drink at all by the way, did start to notice when he moved on to his 3rd and 4th drinks, but wasn’t going to judge. they continued to talk when he received a phone call. he stepped away to take it, and came back and said he had to run out quickly. he was gone for several minutes then returned. the lawyer asked “what was that all about” the i-banker said “had to meet my drug dealer” pause pause pause “HA, just kidding” the lawyer was relieved. pause pause pause “no but for real, i had to meet my drug dealer.”
at this point the lawyer was confused, but their table was ready and she was starving. after she, ordering the ribeye, and he, ordering several more scotches, they still continued to have good conversation and a fun time, so the night rolled on. after a while she excused herself to use the ladies room. as she pushed open the door, the i-banker appeared behind her and followed her in. “what are you doing?” she asked. “here, just come with me to the handicap stall. confused at first, she then thought that he wanted to have a quick makeout session, which she admitted was kind of hot, so he grabbed her hand and they locked the door behind them. she stood there waiting for him to kiss her, put his hand up her dress, anything but what happened next.
he retrieved a small baggy and key from his pocket and proceeded to take a bump of coke up each nostril and then handed it over to the lawyer. she looked at him in complete horror and could only muster up the line “i don’t even drink.” he put the baggie back in his pocket and then proceeded to pull out a glass pipe and crack rocks. CRACK ROCKS! at this point the lawyer’s life begins flashing before her. her she was, a woman who had passed the new york state bar, and she was in the handicap stall of the women’s bathroom at the palm with a guy smoking CRACK!
she exited the bathroom as quickly as she could to gather her belongings from the table which, to her dismay, had just been served her perfectly prepared medium-rare ribeye. knowing she still had to escape, she managed to get in two or three bites of the steak before telling him she had to go and ran in to the waiting arms of the nearest cab home.
she has not been back on match.com since.
and your i-banker is a crackhead.