Note: This post was from my old blog. Ideas and beliefs were those of a much younger soul and may no longer be representative of who I am.
These are my two favorite date stories from the last couple years.
#6 : Don’t name drop.
I am not sure if this qualifies as name dropping so much as live-person dropping. This guy was a Grade A, top of the line name-dropper. He was so good at it, he never had to actually say names.
Years ago, I met a guy through some other friends on a trip to Vegas. Let me call him a man, actually, as he was about 5 years beyond my target demographic age-range. This was a time in my life when I was bored and said yes to just about any date, because you never know what you may learn from somebody. Despite popular belief, you don’t have to really like someone to go on a date with them. I’ve found some of my favorite restaurants, met new friends, and gained some fantastic stories from bad first dates. Everything is a learning experience.
Let me backtrack. The night I met him, a group of about 8 of us were at the club XS. This man, we’ll call him Greg, knew the guys we were at a table with. He came over and chatted, and asked me if I wanted to go to his friend’s table to grab a drink. He said they were Asian. Perhaps he thought I would be more interested in hanging out with my own half-kinfolk… I’m not sure why he threw in that tidbit of information. I accepted and went over to the table. He introduced me to a handful of Asians, and lastly to his “boy.” His friend asked me some questions and in about 3 minutes of chatting we discovered that we both were half asian, love sports, and were from Seattle. I told Greg “hey, me and him are totally twins,” and in typical drunk fashion, I told his boy, “we should totally hang out. We’re like the same person. What was your name again?” He said “Apollo.” I said “oh shit.” I realized my twin was Apollo Ono, no big deal.
So several months went by and Greg texted me intermittently about random things here and there. He was a nice guy, no doubt, but he was too old for me and frankly, he bored the shit out of me. Nonetheless, at some point, he asked me out to dinner and I said sure, why not. He picked an expensive steak house in Santa Monica and said he’d pick me up. So, as I was getting ready that day, he texted me and let me know that his “boy” and his boy’s wife would be joining us. I thought this was extremely odd, but I had already said yes and didn’t want to seem like a brat. We get to the restaurant and he tells me that his boy was already there but that something came up and the wife would not be coming. Again, odd, but at this point nothing seemed all that weird. The hostess shows us to our table.
There are four chairs. One for me, one for Greg, one for the wife who won’t be coming, and the last for motherfucking Dr. Dre. Like, seriously? So for the next two hours I sat at a table eating a $50 steak with Dr. Dre, forgetting that Greg even existed. Matter of fact, the best 5 minutes of the night were when Greg excused himself to the bathroom and Dre and I discussed our creative processes, and he told me his process for writing a song. Who else can say they’ve had that conversation?
Moral of the story: GO ON FIRST DATES WITH GUYS THAT SUCK. You might meet Apollo Ono and Dr. Dre.
Second moral of the story: Guys, even if you show up with Apollo Ono and Dr. Dre, it still doesn’t change your odds – you’re still boring, you just have cool friends. And just because you didn’t say their names, you are still name dropping in that you’re using who you know to try to impress me. You’re not slick.
#9: Don’t say too much.
I met Brian (funny thing is, I am changing this guy’s name to be kind, but to be perfectly honest, I can’t remember his real name… I just know it’s not Brian) while paying a tint fix-it ticket that I didn’t actually fix at the courthouse. He was a nice looking light skinned dude with a cool style. He had a decent approach. He asked me out to dinner. We went to a little Brazilian restaurant close by. Conversation was about a 4 out of 10, which wasn’t awful those days. We were discussing LA and how so many people were caught up in the “scene,” trying to be somebody or act like they know somebody. He said he was the total opposite of that. He told me he hated name-droppers. And then, somewhere in the midst of our lukewarm, less-than-halfway-decent, lightyears-from-provocative banter, he dropped a bomb. My favorite date bomb ever.
In a totally serious voice, as though he was sharing a dark family secret with me, he said, “you know, ‘Marvin’s Room’ is about me.” I said, “huh? That Drake song?”
(For those of you not familiar, please catch up: Marvin’s Room Official Video )
He said, “yeah, my ex girlfriend dated Drake before me. He wrote that song right after her and I got together. So when he says ‘The woman that I would try is happy with a good guy… fuck that ni**a that you love so bad’…. I’m that ni**a.”
No, Brian, no you’re not. And if this is your claim to fame, I am genuinely worried about you.
Moral of the story: DRAKE ISN’T RAPPING ABOUT YOU. And in the ever-so-slight off chance that he is, you’re still boring. You’ve over shared in an attempt to impress me, and in doing so, you’ve contradicted all your prior statements about not being like everyone else in the scene.
Sidenote: That Brazilian restaurant is one of my top 5 favorites in LA now, so, for that, I thank you Brian.
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