I knew drinking wine and Tindering on Saturday night was a bad idea.
We’ll call this one Hockey Dad (yes – he has kids).
This was someone who I had been chatting with in texts for a couple of weeks. After getting my first Tinder date out of the way, I was not so nervous going into this one.
We met downtown, at a bar I had never been to but had always wanted to check out. Surprisingly, it was REALLY busy for a Wednesday night. I was so confused! Don’t these people work!?
Who goes out drinking on a Wednesday night?
Anyways – after the formalities were out of the way, the conversation flowed so easily. So many laughs.
So. Many. Laughs.
We spent the evening huddled up in the corner at the bar. After the first cocktail, the flirtation level increased. Between cracking jokes and chatting about our pasts, the time flew by.
While sipping our second cocktail he excused himself to use the washroom.
No big deal.
No red flags went up in my books.
A few minutes later, he comes back. I jokingly asked if he washed his hands. He told me to look at my phone.
He decided that was the right time to send me a sext.
And not just any sext, a video.
What? Yeah. No thanks.
I didn’t feel like making a scene, so I laughed and said it was time for me to call it a night.
Politely declining his offer to drive me home, I headed straight to the subway.
Two days later, I receive a text message from him:
“No reviews of the video?”