The three hour cab ride

The second guy I met through Tinder, let’s call him…. Chase, was a fioooooone male. Unfortunately, his inflated ego got in the way of establishing any real connection so that ended right before Christmas. Right before that ended, he invited me to his apartment’s annual Christmas Party. I arrived with my friend Abby, and found Chase posted up at the beer pong table (you read that right: beer pong. And no, I am not in college anymore, I guess I just date guys who think it’s attractive to be reliving their frat glory days) when we got there so we decided to mingle with other people. There was an overload of Georgetowners (not kids who go to Georgetown because it’s a great college, I am referring to adults who voluntarily decide to move and live in Georgetown and frequent bars like George or Smith Point), so the number of interesting people to mingle with was severely limited. At one point, two guys approached us and after making small talk for a few minutes, one of them asked for my number. During the conversation, I recognized this guy as one of Chase’s friends “JCC,” who he had referred to multiple times. They had attended the same law school, and Chase referred to him as an “sometimes lovable, entitled asshole.” I explained to JCC that I had been very casually dating Chase for a couple of months and he immediately apologized for not realizing that he had overstepped boundaries. Then he took out his phone and requested a cocaine delivery from an Uber driver (this is not a joke). I have absolutely no idea how he did that, I did not even know that you could use Uber for that purpose.

Fast forward over a month later, Chase and I are not longer dating, and I am sitting on a bar stool in the back room of Solly’s (my favorite dive bar on U street) on a Saturday night. I turned around to survey the scene when I recognized JCC talking to a group of guys behind me. I went up to say hello, and when he introduced me to the group as Chase’s girlfriend, I quickly corrected him. He paused and asked, “So, does that mean we can hang out now?”

Hmmm. Well, he is an attractive guy. Definitely my type physically, which tends to be a skinnier, bordering on scrawny, Caucasian male wearing a plaid shirt (the heart wants what it wants, amirite ladies). And I do not owe anything to Chase. If anyone is going to make the call on whether or not it is appropriate to hang out, it’s the friend (him), not the ex (me). Sure, he comes off as a little overconfident, but I really had only spent a total of perhaps seven minutes with the guy. I could always give someone (attractive) the benefit of the doubt. And okay, the Uber driver cocaine delivery situation is super sketchy (especially since the only things I put up my noise are Nutella and Trader Joes Cookie Spread fumes), but also maybe slightly funny in an insanely ridiculous kind of way? I mean, what else do I have going on right now. This could be a potential distraction, and better than nothing, right (the answer to that question, as I would learn later, is NO. It is not better than nothing). So in response, I shrugged and gave him my number.

We made plans to meet up for drinks on Wednesday night by my apartment. The day of, he texted me to let me know he was behind on work so he would have to reschedule. This also happened to be an evening where the temperatures got down to single digits, so I was not too upset about staying in. After some back and forth messages about our days, I passed out and assumed that he would just follow up with another time to meet up the next day. I did not hear from him for another week and half, and thought this was just another scenario where a guy expresses interest and disappears (I was on streak at this time). Then one Saturday morning, a text pops up on my phone:


Well, this was a pleasant surprise. I told him that I was relatively busy that weekend with friends, but would be relatively free during the week, to which he responded:



You. You just asked me if I want to hang out. What the hell kind of response is that?

Er, whatever. I don’t even know what to respond to that, so I just continued on with my day and eventually my night. Around midnight, I felt my phone buzz with a text from JCC, saying he was in a cab and asking if he could come meet up with my friends and me. I told him my location (Blaguard in Adams Morgan) and told him he was welcome to come by. After radio silence, I decided to hop over to Masa 14 at 1am to meet up with some other friends. At 1:30am, I felt my phone buzz again with a text from JCC, checking to see if I was still at the Blaguard. I quickly responded that I was now at Masa on 14th street. At 2am, I get a call from him, so I stepped out onto the roof and answered it.

JCC: “Where are you?”
Me: “I’m still at Masa.”
JCC: “I’m in a cab on my way to 14th. Do you want to grab a drink?”
Me (checking the time, it’s now 2am. Sigh. I suppose there is time for one more beverage if I sleep in tomorrow): “….. Okay. I’m at Masa.”
JCC: “Where should we go?”
Me (I was not about to venture far at this hour): “I could go next door to Pilar for a drink..”
JCC: “Okay perfect. I should be there soon.”
Me: “Text me when you’re close.”

After he texted me a few minutes later, I bid my friends good night and headed next door to Pilar. Now I love Pilar. I like the Saturday night bartender, a sweet bearded guy who always tell me how much he hates everyone, I like the drinks, I like the unpretentious vibe. But I do not like to go there and wait for 45 minutes for some guy when it is almost 3am. Luckily, the people at the end of the bar were friendly and my Dolin Blanc with a splash of soda water and lemon was refreshing (my go-to drink when I want something light that won’t get me drunk but will maintain my buzz), but I was not in the mood to be hanging around for some guy. Also, this guy has literally been “in a cab” since midnight. Have you just been riding around the city for the last two hours and forty-five minutes?! Here is a list of things that can be accomplished in two hours and forty five minutes:

  • Drive from Washington, D.C. to Philadelphia
  • Run a marathon at 6:17min/mile pace
  • Run a half marathon at 12:35min/mile pace
  • Watch Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring
  • Make Ina Garten’s tomato basil soup, let the soup cool for twenty five minutes, and still have thirty minutes for a leisurely lunch
  • Listen to Beyonce’s entire album Beyonce, Drake’s entire album If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late, and Maroon 5’s entire album

When he finally got into the bar, I asked him where he had come from and he responded “Georgetown.” Georgetown is a mile and a half away. Maybe two miles if you go deep into a Gtown neighborhood. I have walked from Georgetown to 14th street in literally thirty minutes. Did he make a pit stop in Baltimore before heading over to 14th street…? Maybe he stopped to take a nap on the side of the street on the way? I just… don’t even… know how to process this information in my mind.

Then because he showed up at 2:45am, it was already last call and the bartender was closing up the bar. So he suggested going back to his place for a drink. Dude, this is already two hours later than I usually make it on a weekend night, and I was exasperated with these antics. You might be cute, but you ain’t cute enough for me to be dealing with this. When I thanked him for the offer but declined, he looked at me with complete surprise. “But I came all the way here to meet you.”

…………………. Excuse me?

  1. I don’t owe you anything because you came here to meet me.
  2. We started texting at midnight. You are just now showing up. You would have had the chance to order fifteen drinks if you wanted to in the past three hours if you had not been “in a cab” for the past three hours.
  3. Also, you literally live two blocks away. If I look outside the bar, I can see your building around the corner. You did not go out of your way in any way to meet me. Coming all the way to 14th street was basically the same as you coming all the way home to end your night. You were going to end up here eventually. Don’t make it sound like you ventured far and wide to see me.
  4. You have done absolutely nothing to earn me coming home with you. I have no idea what your deal is, you haven’t shown that you are not a sociopath, there is no way I am going inside your apartment.

I firmly reiterated that I was going to be home, alone. He then goes (wait for this gem), “What am I going to do, go home alone and drink by myself?”

What? How are those the only two options for your night? Either I go home with you or you go home and drink alone? Also, I don’t really care what you do when go home. That’s really not my problem. I just stared at him and go, “I don’t know what you’re going to do. I just know that I am going home to my apartment.” I tipped the bartender, and walked out with JCC. As soon as we exited the bar, he turned toward his apartment and goes, “see you” without even asking how I was getting home, if I was getting cab, or waiting for me to find a cab (don’t worry everyone, I made it home okay thanks for worrying). Chivalry was so dead for this guy. I’m pretty sure this guy murdered chivalry.

The next afternoon, I received the following texts from our sweet gentleman:


FullSizeRender (1)

I can’t even pretend like I was surprised by this. But come on. If you’re a jerk, you’re a jerk. But don’t you know better than to not even pretend like you’re a better person? Like, at least try to act like you care in the beginning. Those texts did not even warrant a response. I’m seriously not even going to start talking about the weather. What a waste of time.


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