8 Date-tastrophes That Prove NYC Tinder Is Hell for Women
New York City is great. Casual sex is great. Tinder in New York... is the worst. And the women of New York City are experiencing the absolute worst of the worst of it.
So we put out a call to New York City's swiping single ladies: send us your weird, wild, and otherwise unpleasant Tinder tales, and let's heal together. This is an opportunity to commiserate on the non-zero chance that you'll eventually swipe right on a seemingly normal NYC guy who wants to take you out for a nice branzino, then pee on your face while you call him Samwise Gamgee.
I Just Wanna Piss on You
"This was one of my first Tinder dates. I think his name was Gabriel. We met at a bar near Union Square and I had arrived early so I ordered myself a drink. He walks in and I thought to myself, 'Sweet! He's hotter than his pics,' but then he started talking and I was immediately disinterested. We had mediocre conversation for about an hour, and I was still sipping my drink slowly. I noticed that he was staring at me so I asked him why. He said: 'I can't stop staring at your face, you're so pretty.'
"'Thanks,' I said, mildly uncomfortable.
"'I'm thinking about what it'd be like to piss all over it.'
"Obviously, I was pretty much speechless, but he acted as if that shit was totally normal to say in public on a first date. I chugged my drink and walked out. Later, he had the nerve to text me and say, 'Sorry, was that a lot?' No, it was fine, Gabe. Totally fine." -- Marissa, 30
The Legal Beagle
"God damn this guy. He was nice enough, cute enough, and an attorney -- a normal-enough job, right? We went on three really boring dinner dates, but by the third I invited him over and took a bottle of rosé to the face to keep things interesting. We met after work at my place, and started making out. I took a break to go to the bathroom, and when I came out, he was naked, wearing nothing but a collar around his neck that said 'BITCH' and a chain attached to it.
"I sort of just stood there in surprise, and he said, 'Ever since I met you, I've had a fantasy of you walking me around your apartment like a dog.' I didn't want to be rude, so I started asking him why he was having these types of fantasies. He was making a sad puppy-dog face so I held the leash for about 30 seconds and then politely asked him to pack up his collar and go." -- Chloe, 27
Red Bull on the Wagon
"I had just moved to New York, and this was my first Tinder encounter ever. Also, this was my first outing as a single person in NYC. On our date, we played ping-pong, which was great. He chugged like seven Red Bulls -- not as great. Then, he took me to his AA meeting. Oh, also: he has kids. I actually ended up dating him for months after that, though. Nice dad." -- Heidi, 27
The Sleepy Chucker
"When I first matched with Rodney, it felt like a great connection. He spoke in sarcasm like me, and the banter never faltered. We even graduated to texting and then talking on the phone like functional, social human beings. But then it came time to meet.
"The first attempt at a meet-up was called off because he was feeling sick. Sure, it happens, I thought. Until I got a call from him at 2am demanding that I meet him at a bar near my apartment. Wasn't he sick? Being that full of shit would make me sick too.
"But still, I gave him one more chance. He decided to take me to a Mexican chain restaurant, which is weird, but hey -- I'm easygoing, and I like guacamole. I show up and he's wearing a crewneck Hugo Boss sweatshirt with just 'BOSS' emblazoned across the chest. Oy.
"We sit down and he orders a bottle of wine for us. We chat, mostly about him having gone to the gym that day. I begin to wonder what it was I actually saw in him originally. We get our food, and several bites in he interrupts my sentence to tell me he doesn't like his meal. I suggest that he sends it back or orders something else but he declines.
"This is where it goes really downhill. He begins interrupting every other sentence of mine with statements such as, verbatim: 'If I could be anywhere right now, it would be home. Asleep. In my bed.' Eventually, I tire of this and suggest we just call it a night.
"He inexplicably gets his despised leftovers wrapped and we leave with empty stomachs and a 3/4-full bottle of wine in our wake. The best part was still to come, though.
"I'm grasping at straws of conversation as we walk out, ready to leave his strange ass and have the rest of the night to myself. As we're walking and I'm talking, he wordlessly hurls his leftovers across the street and onto the opposing sidewalk, like Tom Brady. There was no follow-up explanation. Then he asked me to hail him a cab, but it was raining so obviously there were no cabs.
"At one point in my futile process he goes, 'You know, I'm not tired anymore! Want to go to a bar or something?' No, Rodney. I do not." -- Lily, 25
I Just Wanna Piss on... Something
"We met up for a late-night date. He seemed pretty tipsy to start off, but I dragged him out to the bar anyway, which would later turn out to be a grave mistake. He seemed like a nice guy so I took him back to my place. We hooked up, then passed out. Around 5am, I woke up to the sound of splashing water. I open my eyes to see a figure standing over my hamper. He was peeing in the corner, of course.
"I screamed at him, 'What the fuck are you doing?!' He was clearly disoriented, thought he was in the bathroom. I was so angry I chased him out of my apartment buck naked, threatening to make him pay for the damages. It was all over my wall and floor, my Mac, and mostly in my hamper of clean clothes. He basically told me to fuck off and he wouldn't pay for shit with 'that kind of attitude.'
"Later that afternoon, he woke up to my string of angry texts and phone calls and apologized and offered to pay for the damages. He picked an expensive hamper to pee in: it was all of my silks, dry-cleaned dresses, and delicates, totaling almost $100 worth of cleaning and pressing." -- Ellie, 26
The Drugged-Up, Ass-Out Hugger
"The CliffsNotes: invited to go on a date to Dream House, show up to a total catfish (~10 years older, foot shorter, 20lb smaller [usual bitchy young woman complaints]), we have a quick drink, then go into a pink-lit, shoes-forbidden, totally empty soundscape experience where he tells me he smoked a bunch of opium before meeting up.
"Conversation is impossible, leaving is too much of a panic move since we're the only ones inside -- time moves differently in Dream House than it should. Hours seem to pass, he's now 20 years older than his profile said, we still haven't said more than six words to each other, finally I say I'm 'pretty tired' (it's 9pm), our bodies touch in a regrettable hug-like fashion, and I run after a cab. -- Lisa, 25
Google Your Cons
"He was weird as fuck before I met him. He would send me these strange dark bathroom selfies and text abbreviations for, like, every word. Some words don't get abbreviated; he did not get this. Anyway, he suggests meeting at literally one of the grossest bars I have ever been to in NYC. (I'm all about a dive bar, but this was something else entirely.) Before we got drinks, he wanted me to come with him to walk his dog, so I did. I thought that was weird, but I figured I'd have maybe half a drink with him, then bounce.
"While he was back upstairs putting his dog away (which he speaks to like a child with a baby voice) I decide to Google his name, just to pass the time. Come to find out, he was in prison for the last 15 years and had just gotten out. For a quick moment I was like, aww he's been given a second chance (I was really into Serial at the time) but then he came out, started aggressively making out with me, and stuck his finger in my mouth. I literally spit up on him, and ran away." -- Michaela, 29
Mr. "Who Is This?"
"I matched with an outside-the-box right swipe. He was slightly older than my typical selections, preppy, and altogether more straight-laced than my usual 'type.' But I figured, 'Hey, the usual has a proclivity to fail anyway, so why not?' Over chat, we clicked, and he suggested that we get a drink, then sent me his number to make arrangements. A couple of days later, I texted him, and we made plans to meet in the next few days at a bar Downtown. I stopped paying attention to my phone for a while after that, and when I looked again, I had a string of texts from this guy, including one that read, 'I need to do laundry. Badly.' Attached was a picture of his ass. Butt naked. A follow-up text addressing my lack of response (I hadn't looked at the conversation in about an hour) read, 'Crickets.'
"In what world does one go from 'Yes, 6:30 drinks work for me' to BOOM butt pic? Upon closer inspection I had to acknowledge that my suitor did appear to have a fairly shapely behind. But svelte or not, this just wasn't acceptable. I responded with a text telling him that by no means did I sanction the sending of pics, and that he had taken things a bit too far. On the day we were supposed to go on our date, I realized that he might still be under the impression that we were still meeting up. So, to ensure this wasn’t the case, I sent another text stating that I was no longer comfortable going on a date with him. His response: 'Who is this?'
"What a freak show, right? But I realized that 'who is this' might be the most genius response ever to awkward situations of your own making. You ask someone on a date via text, they say no; someone pesters you with inane bullshit via text; or someone even just asks you if you’re OK after a night of embarrassment... 'who is this?' What a great response. While I find the unsanctioned delivery of a butt selfie disturbing, ultimately I have to thank this dude for giving me such a gift." -- Kate, 30
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