From Cute Coffee Shop to Get Me Out of Here

I still cannot believe this date was almost two years ago.

I’m pretty sure I met him on Hinge. In his photos, he looked normal and put together. We chatted a bit, realized he lived close to me, and decided to meet at a Colombian coffee shop near my house.

I ordered a pistachio latte. It was dyed green and honestly kind of cute. I got it decaf because I like the taste of coffee, but caffeine makes me feel crazy. Like instant anxiety. He ordered regular coffee.

At first, the conversation was good. Easy. Normal. I was thinking, okay… this might actually be fine.

Then he asked if I wanted to keep the date going and grab a drink. I said sure. He suggested I get in his car and we drive to a bar nearby. I live in a community with a food hall close by, and there’s a really cool bar in the middle of it, so we went there.

We’re talking, and that’s when I started noticing little red flags.

I’m not a conspiracy theorist. I mean, I believe aliens could exist, but I’ve never seen one, so I’m not building my personality around it. I’m very much a “I have to see it to believe it” person.

He started telling me his grandfather died from cancer and that he could have been healed holistically, but nobody listened to him. He said the doctors were the ones who killed his grandfather with all the treatments.

That already had me feeling a little thrown because, yes, the medical system has issues, but most doctors are trained to treat people using evidence based medicine. The good ones are not out here purposely trying to harm patients.

Then he told me we could cure COVID by using colloidal silver. Again, that was his claim, not mine, and I was sitting there like… okay.

I ordered a glass of wine. It was around nine dollars. We’re talking, and I’m thinking about ordering another one. I casually asked if I should get another, and he goes, “I’m not paying nine dollars for another drink.”

Then he says, “I have a bottle of wine at my house. We can go there.”

And here is where I need you to understand the version of me at that time.

I was still in that season where I would override my own instincts because I wanted things to work. I was still trying to be easygoing and agreeable, instead of honest about what I actually wanted. Also, he drove, so I felt kind of stuck.

So I went.

We pull up to his house, and immediately I’m seeing neglected foliage and half finished projects. We park in the garage, and he says, “Keep your head down,” because apparently you have to walk through this pathway to get into the house. It’s covered in dead bushes, leaves everywhere, overgrown stuff. Just… not taken care of.

Somewhere in all of this, he mentions he’s been separated from his wife for a year, and she hasn’t contacted him in that entire year.

And at this point I’m starting to see why.

I walk into the house and it’s dark. Like dark dark. It’s also dirty. The floor had dirt all over it, like sandy grit everywhere. You could run your finger across the floor and literally draw a line.

There were boxes around. Random stuff. And it didn’t feel like someone who was “in the middle of cleaning.” It felt like someone who just lives like that.

And then he pulls out the wine.

I’m a little bit of a wine snob. I like a bold red. I was drinking a red at the bar, probably a cab.

He brings out this giant value bottle of Moscato.

And listen, no shade if you like Moscato. But I have insulin resistance, and sweet wine makes me feel sick. Plus, it just did not match the vibe of how he was presenting himself.

Then he tells me he doesn’t have a wine opener.

So he goes, “I’m going to go grab one. Just stay here.”

So now I’m basically stuck in this dark, dirty house while he leaves for fifteen or twenty minutes.

In that moment, I called my best friend. I FaceTimed her and showed her the house because I was like, you are not going to believe where I am right now.

She was like, “Val, what are you doing. Why did you go with him?”

And I said the truth. “He drove me. I didn’t have enough voice to say no.”

While I’m waiting, I walk around a little and I see pictures from his wedding. Photos of his wife. All still out. Like nothing had been put away.

I went to the bathroom and it was filthy too. And I’m thinking, how do you invite a woman over when you know your house looks like this. Like what is the plan here. What are you expecting to happen.

I remember the TV being on, and some presidential stuff was playing in the background. It felt surreal. Like I was watching a news segment while realizing I had made a terrible decision.

When he finally came back, my friend had already talked sense into me.

So I told him, “Hey, this has been great, but I really need you to take me back to my car.”

And he says, “If I would have known you were going to leave, I wouldn’t have left to go pick up the wine opener.”

That comment gave me a chill. I don’t know how else to describe it. It felt… off. Like a weird punishment tone. Like I owed him for leaving.

We got in his car, he drove me back, and he asked, “Am I going to see you again?”

And I said something polite like, “I’ll text you later.”

I did not.

And that was the end of that.

If there’s a takeaway here, it’s this: if you’re on a first date and you feel your gut starting to whisper, listen the first time. And also, I don’t care how cute the pistachio latte is. I’m driving my own car.