I had a bad date!!! (An evening with The Doc)

Playing the field

Alright, fine... I do have a little crush on Book Boyfriend. Yes, he has big arms, he's charming, funny, and even humors my magic tricks. BUT, I'm not going to fall for the first guy I meet after my divorce. No way, not me. Not this girl.

I'm going to do what people do in the movies. What do they call it? Date around? Keep it casual? Play the field? Yes! That's it, I won't get attached. I'm going to arrange another date with someone new.

I grab my phone and scroll through the messages on my dating apps. There is a message from a man I've been chatting with for a few weeks inviting me to get dinner. "Works for me!" I reply.

That settles that, I have a date. And... he's a doctor.

Am I mean?!

I can't believe I'm so modern and cool. Look at me getting ready to go on another date with a boy who isn't Book Boyfriend.

I was actually excited to meet The Doc. He looked cute from his photos and was pretty good at carrying a conversation. I threw on a white off-the-shoulder sweater and straightened my hair. With little time to overthink the date, I rushed to the restaurant straight from work.

The most awkward part of a date? Definitely the beginning. Do you get a table? Wait in the car? Stand by the door? Have a drink at the bar? What are the rules?

I decided to wait outside the restaurant, nervously scrolling through reels on my phone. That's when I heard my name, "Amber?"

I looked up. "Amber, it's me. So nice to finally meet you in person."

Oh...oh.

I won't lie, my first impression of him wasn't very nice. He wasn't unattractive, but he was short. Very short. Shorter than me, and I'm 5'4 short. This is when I realized I might be a little mean! It's also when I realized I was staring at him like a creep and not responding.

"Hi, nice to meet you..."

Pizza and Pain

I know, I know, talking about his height is mean, but I was just surprised! I shook it off and gave him a chance. After all, he was kind, cute, and about to buy me a pizza... a solid trifecta.

After three hours, I learned exactly one thing about this man: he is a doctor. I know this because he told me. I know this because he told me 25 times. This is actually the only thing we talked about the entire evening.

And look, no judgment, if I were a doctor, I'd probably bring it up constantly too. But after one pizza and three hours of hearing about his residency, fellowship, and board certifications, I was ready to call it a night.

Until we meet again...

After the check came and the leftover pizza was safely secured in its cardboard boxes, it was time for the date to end. The Doc offered to accompany me to my car. I assured him it wasn't necessary, but he insisted.

As we reached my car, I noticed it—The Look. The look men have when they're about to kiss you. Oh no. What should I do? In a panic, I quickly announced, "Well...I'm going to give you a hug now," throwing my arms out awkwardly like a malfuntioning robot.

His face shifted from puckered to puzzled. Then he smiled (though there might have been a hint of defeat). He hugged me and wished me goodnight. Maybe the end of a date is actually more awkward than the beginning...

"Ding"

I arrive home safely, kick off my heels at the door, and head to the fridge for a glass of water. I did well. I went on a date, was polite, and managed to make it clear that there won't be a second one without having to ghost him. As I'm about to wash my face, I hear a "ping" from my pocket. It's a text from The Doc. Okay...maybe I wasn't as clear as I thought. "Hey, I had fun tonight. I'm just bummed we didn't have a steamy make-out session in the parking garage."

Oh. Well, that was a crazy text to send someone who blurted out she only wanted to hug you less than ten minutes ago. I giggled to myself and replied, thanking him for the pizza and suggesting we would be better off as friends. This time, he gets the message. I start brushing my teeth and smile, thinking, "Hey! I had a bad date!" It's like a universal experience or a rite of passage that I can finally claim.

I finish getting ready for bed and slide into my cozy sheets. Look at me, playing the field.

I reach for my phone and type, "How was your night?"

"Better if you were here," Book Boyfriend replies.

The Doc Epilogue

The Doc did, in fact, not get the hint. Every few months, he sends me a random text to check if I've reconsidered meeting up. Just when I assume he's moved on and is content, six months later, he messages me to say he's relocating and asks if I'd be interested in sleeping with him before he leaves for good. I politely decline...again.