I wouldn’t think anyone would need help figuring out why this is a bad idea, but just in case you’re a guy contemplating buying bedazzled jeans, here is a tale of warning from my real life in DC. This happened a while ago, but it is still 100% true and 100% horrible.
It was maybe March or April and I had decided to try an online dating app. Most of the people on the app seemed horrible. Then I “met” some wannabe-Irish guy that seemed like he might be normal. I was out of town so we agreed to meet in person some days later, after I returned to DC. I was pretty excited about meeting wannabe-Irish guy, though if I am being honest I have to admit that the excitement was fading as we got closer to the agreed upon meeting time. The day before the day we were supposed to meet I asked him (via text message) for a good song to listen to because I was up late working and was really tired of my music. All matter of alarms should have gone off when he suggested “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons. This is a 41 year-old man who claims to be Irish. This song choice was definitely not appropriate. Having only met him online (big mistake), I had decided that he was probably a U2 type of guy. I would soon be proven very wrong. My actual favorite song in the world is “Here comes the sun.” So this was a HUGE sign that we were very, very incompatible.
Second set of alarms should have gone off when he suggested we go to lunch at McCormick and Schmitts, which I don’t like for three reasons. One, it’s dark. Two, it’s a chain. Three, I can’t pronounce the name. Alarms did go off for my good friend Michael who, Oracle-of-Delphi-style, predicted that this would be a catastrophe. But I am stubborn. I ignored Michael and instead convinced wannabe-Irish guy that maybe we should go somewhere else.
On the day we were supposed to meet I texted to confirm and got dressed. I dress nicely. All the time. I am not even a jeans-and-a-t-shirt person except in very rare occasions. So I picked an ok dress (not beautiful, not overdoing it) and flat sandals because even though he had claimed to be 5’10’ and I am only 5’6″ on a good day, by all accounts 5’10’ online turns out to be about 5’7′ in person and I don’t like to feel that much taller than a guy I don’t know.
So I walked to our meeting spot. He texted to say he was waiting. As I approached, I saw him sitting down on a bench. In jeans and one of those t-shirts with weird black print that kind of looks like a tattoo. Something that a 13-year-old would wear to spite his parents. That was the look. If I had been wearing flats instead of sandals I would have turned around and run. I couldn’t run in sandals, so I walked forward to meet the only person over the age of 25 that thinks “Radioactive” is a good song.
When he stood up to greet me, I almost fell back. He had accompanied his really unfortunate t-shirts with what I can only describe as bedazzled jeans. They had holes. And decorative black-stitching. And the back-pockets were just flat out bedazzled with shiny rhinestones. So here I was looking pretty next to a guy wearing bedazzled jeans. Again, I should have called it quits here and left, but instead we started walking.
For the next hour we walked all over DC while he explained all the numerous ways that various members of his family had let him down and how everything that had gone wrong with his life was essentially someone else’sfault. Super attractive. I wanted to blame the bedazzled jeans and the fake Irish ring, but instead I just nodded, walked and thought of a good excuse to make a break for it. When he said he was hungry I said I had to leave and suggested a place where he could go eat by himself (I can be pretty mean.) He thanked me for my suggestion and said that he was just going to walk around to see “what kind of trouble [he] could get into.”
I said good bye, left him there sparkling in the sunlight, turned the corner and ran.
[The day this happened was the day I wrote this and I also wrote about frozen yogurt. I only published the frozen yogurt post because].