30 tinder Dates in 30 Nights – {Date 4} The Football Fan

It’s Saturday morning and I’m in the middle of a very busy day. It’s only date four and I’m already exhausted. I’ve had very little time to prep for this date because I couldn’t send my coaches his picture and bio ahead of time. This of course means that I have no advice and I’m going in completely blind.

It’s not like I’m staying out late but mentally I am drained! I find it hard to keep up with the names of the guys I’m meeting and the guys I’m chatting with so I create a new contact list in my phone. I call the list “Friend Suitors”, and tell my phone to generate a genius contact list with any contact in my address book who has the acronym “FS” in the notes. Conveniently this acronym has a double meaning and can be applied to my “Former Suitors” as well. Perfect! I make notes on each contact detailing their pros, cons and why I stopped dating them, will continue to date them, or never speak to them again. I take screen shots of their profiles on Tinder so I can save them in my address book to remind me of who is who. This picture also comes in handy for when I email my coaches before the date, plus it adds an extra layer of security by creating a record of who I meet and where, in the event I go missing… (See mom? Nothing to worry about…)

The Date…

I arrive to meet my date for lunch at a local sports pub because he’s a huge college sports fan who can’t miss ESPN College Game Day. We sit and chat for a little while before deciding what to order. He’s nice, but the first thing I notice is how much older he looks in person. He’s one-year younger than me, but he looks like he’s five years ahead. My decision to skip the makeup and save 10 minutes this morning has been validated.

He talks a lot, about his life, his friends, his job and I “listen” while thinking about where I’m going to buy a bookcase and wondering what the ROI would be on a jukebox in a place like this… Nah, a car wash would be better. I wish I could buy a parking lot, now that’s a business that runs itself!

I nod and I smile. “So do you like football?” he asks. “No” I respond bluntly. He looks as if he’s going to cry. “But ummm, like you would go to a game if someone invited you right?” “Probably, if I didn’t have to pay for the tickets and it wasn’t cold out.” He stares at me with a puzzled look. “Let me explain,” I say before he has a heart attack. “I don’t hate football, and I don’t mind watching a game once in a while, it’s just not my passion and I don’t let it run my weekend schedule.”

I can tell he’s disappointed. But he tries really hard to hide it. In fact, he tries really hard to “fit in” for the next thirty minutes and I just let him do his thing, because frankly I don’t have it in me to confront him about it. He tells me he dropped out of college and then went back to finish because his parents really wanted him to. “But I didn’t need to, I mean it’s just a piece of paper.” he says. I tell him I think finishing college was a good idea and explain why I value higher education, so he says, “Oh well yeah I mean, college is definitely important.” What?!? Didn’t you just say it wasn’t?

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy who seems to live a decent life, but I can’t seem to think of a reason to hang out with him again, there’s just no spark or intrigue. I look at my watch and decide an hour and fifteen minutes is more than enough time spent at a sports bar on a Saturday afternoon, plus I have a lot of things to do… I tell him I need to take off and thank him for lunch. He says: “Now that’s something you don’t hear often.” “What? Thank you?”, I reply. “Yes”, he says, “A lot of girls don’t appreciate chivalry anymore.” Okay, maybe there’s more to this guy than I thought. My curiosity and this challenge make me stay a little longer so I can ask him at least one deep question….

“Do you think chivalry is dead?”

“No, but…”, he says as he shows me his latest instagram post: The picture is of a guy opening the car door for a woman and the caption reads: “Chivalry ins’t dead, guys are just tired of ungrateful bitches.” Pardon his French…



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