TBT: Worst.Date.Ever.

New recurring theme at Beer Belly Bill called TBT. We’re going to use the hashtag #BeerBellyTBT, so if you have anything at all you want to share that can make it into a post, whether it be a funny story or picture, feel free to use #BeerBellyTBT.

In honor of yesterday being Victory’s 21st Birthday, I figured I would make the inaugural post Victory-related.

Like most single millennial males with great fingers for texting and not much else, I looked to Tinder. I tried the bars, the public introductions, all of it sucks and never goes anywhere. No girl wants to be swept off her feet ever. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to themselves. I matched with a girl. Awesome. I swear I’m not bragging here.

I send the introductory “Hello”. Yeah, I don’t send the perverted messages that “hot” guys use and somehow get away with. I’m a gentlemanly asshole as I like to call it. She responds. I’m thinking okay, good start. Anytime someone just responds in general, I get excited. Low standards here. We get to messaging, she mentions she is a beer taster at Victory. I think that is honestly the coolest job. I know there is “science” that goes into it, but let’s be real: if I could drink beers all day for a living, I would be Uber’s #1 client and also at my dream job. I hint that I am about to start a beer blog. (Yes, it was in the planning stages at that point.)  If I were here, hearing a guy say he’s a blogger on Tinder would’ve meant run for the hills. But for some reason, she gave me her number. We text, I ask her out for drinks. She agress (not bragging).

She recommends a brewery in West Chester, PA (Not Westchester, NY), called Levante Brewing. I realize it’s on my way home from work, so I oblige. At this point I am amped. There’s a girl who is extremely into beer, it’s her career, and out first date is a brewery. I can see my life flash before my eyes: I own a brewery, she does the science stuff, I drink all day, travel to my “competition”, and she’s good looking too! What a life.

The day comes. I dip out of work a little early to beat the traffic. I get there early because I beat traffic too good. She texts me asking if her dog can come. I’m a dog guy. Love ’em. But if the first time you are meeting someone you bring your dog, that is heavy first step. Especially at a brewery. Red Flag #1 by me, because I say sure, because I love dogs. I see a girl with red hair (she was a redhead) drive in an orange box looking thing. It looked like those hamster (side note: there isn’t a “p” in hamster?!?! Thanks Google Chrome!) commercials that I am still convinced no one actually drives. But she proved that point wrong. Red Flag #2. She hops out and I am hiding out in my car a bit until she texts me. Signature Beer Belly Bill move.  I get the text and hop out and say hello.

Now, it is 2017. We are a progressive nation. I try to be “body positive”. After all, as of late, the good ‘ol beer belly is growing. But let me put this politely as possible without offending anyone (I’ll offend someone): the full time beer tasting job had got to the wrong areas. When you aren’t attracted to someone, you can’t help it. Red Flag #3. I’m a nice guy. Physical attraction is huge, but so is personality. Personality outlasts looks by tenfold. I’m giving this an open-minded shot at this point. We say hello, we sit down. She grabs the first round. “Okay, this girl is pretty chill,” I’m thinking. Green Flag #1. I hold the dog outside, because it’s nice out and that’s where we’re sitting. There’s a food truck and all. Chill spot. I like the beer. It was awesome and I do need to get back there to give it an honest account that isn’t biased by a bad date. We get to talking about beer, her job, my job, etc. Usual first date stuff, except she’s a weird person. Look folks, I’m a beer guy. I’m a sports guy. I watch Netflix. Occasionally, I’m even into some arts. Pretty straightforward guy here. Standard out of the box male.

That science dorky stuff that is on Big Bang Theory that is only funny because there’s a laughing track isn’t that funny in real life. It doesn’t pull off well. Red Flag #4. She laughed at her own jokes. Red Flag #5. She paid more attention to the dog more than me. Red Flag #6. There’s a ton of awkward silence because, other than beer, we have NOTHING in common. Red Flag #7. We sit there for a second beer, which at this point is too many. I’m still trying to hold on thinking maybe there’s a way to salvage it. Nope. We finish our beers and get up. I get a somewhat awkward hug goodbye. Who awkwardly hugs?!? Isn’t it, like, the simplest human contact. It should be People Skills 101. Red Flag #8.

Like a gentleman, even though it wasn’t the best date, I waited the standard to text back, which is next day I believe? I say thank you for going out with me! I don’t leave it up for a second date, but I say thank you. She ghosts me. Red Flag #8, #9, #10, #1,000,000…

Shoutout to you, one date girl. I am so glad you are still making some of my favorite Philly beers and not dating me anymore! Cheers!


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