10 Minutes Early: Why am I so early? I look like such a loser. Did I bring a book? Oh good, here’s that book I always bring to pick up dudes, Kafka’sThe Trial. I have already read this 14 times so I’m just going to stare at a random page. How’s 97? Love that page.
5 Minutes Early: Maybe he’s the type of guy to arrive somewhere early. I’d better make sure my hair looks good. I’m going to order a glass of wine now because I want something to do. And I feel like paying for my own drink. And I freaking want some wine.
The Exact Time He Is Supposed To Be Here: Okay! This is it! Maybe that guy is him, over there. I don’t really know what he looks like. Oh, I bet that’s him, I’d better wave — oh, definitely not. Okay, back to page 97. Love page 97.
3 Minutes Late: That’s okay, people are late for stuff. This is totally normal. So he’s not 100 percent punctual. That is not necessarily a dealbreaker. Would have been cool if he texted.
6 Minutes Late: I am surprised he hasn’t texted. I bet that’s — no, that’s not him. That guy is meeting … that girl. Aww. Isn’t that nice.
7 Minutes Late: Text him. “Hey! Are you here yet? Totally okay if not. I got us a spot at the bar.”
9 Minutes Late: Okay, 9 minutes is almost 10 minutes, and that is the rude mark. Plus, he didn’t respond. Extra rude.
10 Minutes Late: WTF. I cannot believe this. Did something happen? Did he get hit by a car? Whatever, 10 minutes late is fine. But why didn’t he text me? That’s SO weird. I definitely would have texted him.
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13 Minutes Late: I have been here for 23 minutes. I deserve another glass of wine, thanks.
17 Minutes Late: I’m texting my friends now. Should I leave? No, they say, stay! Yeah I should totally stay. I’m wearing a really cute outfit.
18 Minutes Late: But this guy does not deserve me and my hot-ass dress.
20 Minutes Late: I am texting random ex-hookups now, oh goodie. Why did that thing end with that guy? I’ll ask him.
25 Minutes Late: Text my date again. “Hey, are we still meeting?” I am mad.
26 Minutes Late: Oh! I just got a text. Ah, it’s that ex-hookup I just texted. Ugh, I totally shouldn’t have texted him. Ha, he has a GF now. So happy for him. Yeah we totally should hang out sometime! (Not.)
27 Minutes Late: I fucking hate page 97. More wine, please.
28 Minutes Late: I bet my teeth are wine-stained. I haaate him.
29 Minutes Late: There is a hot guy over there. I bet he’s not my date. And … he’s not.
30 Minutes Late: I actually call my mom, even though she will make fun of me later for calling her tipsy. She tells me to wait 10 more minutes. She really wants me to get a boyfriend. But a rude one, Mom? Fine, yes, you’re right. Maybe he’s tied up in an important work call or a family emergency.
34 Minutes Late: Oh, shit. If I really wait 40 minutes, I’m going to look pathetic. In my drunkenness, I forgot that I should always do the opposite of what my mom says. Check, please!
37 Minutes Late: Actually, this is going to look awesome. He’s going to get here and I’m going to be like “Sorry, I’m meeting someone else now. Oh, who? A boy, thanks for asking. A cute boy. He just texted me asking what ever happened to us. I know, I do look great in this amazing dress. Yes, it’s really too bad.”
39 Minutes Late: Scribbling my name on the bill, scribbling, that doesn’t even look like my name, whatever. I just gave, like, a 67 percent tip. Whatever. I am kind of drunk. Putting on my headphones. I cannot believe he didn’t even text me.
40 Minutes Late: Leaving the bar. I think I see him, that must be him. He looks fake-frantic. What a loser. His loss, I look awesome. Oh, mirror. Well, my teeth are sort of wine-stained. Who cares? I’m hungry.
This piece was originally posted on How About We’s blog The Date Report.