I met this guy online. Lame, I know, but somehow we started messaging each other on Instagram.
He seemed interesting and didn’t show any outward signs of being a massive serial killer so I thought, “yolo.”
He messaged me to meet at his house so we could walk to dinner. I stupidly obliged.
Okay, so I get there. We speak two words. Here’s the exact dialog:
He said, “interesting pants.”
I said, “uhh thanks.”
Then, it started.
He turned on his massive stereo system and started DJ-ing a live show for me. He was dancing and jumping around and we literally had hardly spoke at this time so I was still standing clenching my purse and looking for the nearest exits while hoping my ears weren’t visibly bleeding.
He must’ve thought this was a good call because the solo concert lasted a solid ten minutes.
I was shaking in my boots. Partly because the ground was shaking due to the bass of his EDM remix and also because I was so uncomfortable.
He finally stopped his concert set and we walked to dinner.
I could not.
I can not.
I will never go on a date with a DJ again.