50 First Dates: He Came Up Short and Still Had the Nerve to Pinch My Love Handles
Dater No. 17 doesn’t feel bad about her unfair judgment of her Tinder date—he told some tall tales to cover up his obvious short-comings.
50 First Dates anonymously chronicles the fun, romantic, wacky, bizarre and downright awful true experiences of dating in Honolulu. Check back weekly for new first-date stories, where to go to woo a boo, tips on where to meet people and more!
What I was looking for at the time
A relationship. After years of traveling I had just moved to Hawai‘i with the intention of setting up shop here. I had just moved into a new place, accepted a job offer from a wonderful company and was making some great friends: I was looking to add some long-term romance to this mix!
How we met
Still new to the island at this point I was using Tinder and Bumble, which both worked perfectly well abroad. One afternoon of checking out Tinder, I spotted a guy with dark hair, dreamy eyes, who seemed career-focused and had a charmingly modest profile description—you bet I swiped right.
Where we went
Following the regular song and dance of small talk, compatibility of distance (“oh you live in my neighborhood!”) and plans to meet up, we decided on pau hana beers at the beach to catch sunset.
I arrived first and sat on the beach with a six pack in a small cooler. I waited nervously for my very good looking and charming date to arrive, and hoped this casual first meeting could possibly lead into dinner (and at least a fun night out with a good person). Soon enough he comes strolling down the beach. I’d been catfished.
Now, I’m not a height-hater but after noticing the average height for men in Hawai‘i is a little bit less than I was used to, I stated on my profile that I’m not at all short and gave my exact height. Given our drastic difference in height, I was shocked that he swiped right on me. But that’s not all: The man had clearly used a bit of Photoshop magic on his face and “athletic” build. I’m not shallow but I don’t care much for false advertising. As soon as Lord Farquaad came up to me, hints of his height in his profile pictures flashed in my mind as if I had come to the point in a movie when the detective suddenly puts all of the evidence together to discover the murderer: In one picture he was holding a ball and it was the same length as his forearms (if you know Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, you know) and in another he was standing next to a car.
At this point, I knew I was averaging on jerk status. Yes, his height and general size were just too little for my build and preference but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a nice time with my new friend for the moment.
But I stopped feeling like a jerk pretty quickly into the first beer.
As I listened to this guy with a clear Napoleon complex talk about his very privileged life, I started to understand that he has never worked hard for a paycheck, and without any real experience in the world of business, is very sure of himself (“I’m a motivational speaker and consultant”). I also figured out he is a trust fund baby who doesn’t put his privilege to good use. After he informed me of how wonderful he is (the way and the number of times he mentioned his modeling career was ridiculous), he looked to me in a way to let him know why I’m worthy of his time. It was at this moment I looked at my empty bottle and wondered how I could possibly leave the date after just one beer so not to waste the entire night (I think I had left Stranger Things on a cliffhanger episode so I was ready to get back to that).
While I thought of getting comfy at home with the rest of the beers to myself, Lord Farquaad made a comment about my high waisted shorts, pinched my side squish and then made a remark about how much he was able to pinch. Now every girl, of every size, is aware of their love handles when they sit down—we don’t care much for others, especially strangers, to touch them. Did I stand up and hold my hand flat over his head and move it close to my body, visibly measuring him up to the middle of my neck? No? So don’t openly judge my belly squish. Wait till I leave and tell your friends later!
How did it end/where are the now?
I am typically a very smiley person but when this stranger touched me, I must have given him the scariest death stare. When I called it a night a few seconds later, he ran down that beach so fast. He did not wait for me to stand up or help me gather up the blanket we were sitting on or his beer bottle—he raaaaaaan. Like the wind. Like a small leaf in the wind. The next day he texted that he had a nice time but that he didn’t feel any romantic spark. I responded by thanking him for the follow up text and that I agreed. He offered to go for a Taco Tuesday session in our shared neighborhood as friends but I don’t think I could sit through another conversation with that guy.
Some time later I matched with another guy on an app and, after stalking his Instagram, who should I find in 70% of his photos? Lord F**king Farquaad. They’re besties and I opted to not find out if they’re both overly confident trust fund babies.
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