We love a good date story — whether sparks flew from the second you two met eyes, or if the spark fizzled the moment you arrived at your date. Regardless, we love to hear and read about the dating blunders + success stories here in the Mile Square and beyond. And for those who strike out, not to worry — the Single Society is here to help turn your horror story into a fun, relatable, hilarious read. Keep reading to find out all about how the {literal} nails ended up in the coffin for one gal during a date at an NYC rooftop bar.
Conner and I decided to connect in person after several weeks of chatter via the Hinge app at a rooftop bar on a beautiful summer afternoon.
My last work meeting went into “overtime,” so I found myself hastily trotting down the unkempt sidewalk of the Garment District of Manhattan in my black high heels. I finally arrived at an obnoxiously overcrowded and slightly raucous roof deck to fight my way to the bar in search of my date.
See More: A Date at Amanda’s: No Train, No Shame
A deep and husky voice called out my name from a table in the corner of the venue, and I found myself pleasantly surprised by the suitor that sat before me.
Conner looked like your typical corn-fed Nebraskan boy complete with his gingham button up shirt snuggly wrapped around his ample biceps and what appeared to be hazy blue eyes behind his mirrored silver aviators.
I stood there waiting for him to stand up and engage in the ubiquitous {and awkward} first date embrace, but saw what he was doing and was positively aghast
Connor was clipping his fingernails. Right on top of the table.
As I stood over him, he hastily finished up his pinky and his ring finger.
*clip* *clip* *clip*
I heard as his last murky discarded fingernails fell in contrast with the stark white table cloth.
“Hello,” Connor said rather enthusiastically as he swept his nail clippings off of either side of the table.
I took my seat as we swapped rather uninteresting comments about our days.
When the waitress approached Connor took in a big whiff of the air uncomfortably close to her body.
“Uh oh, is that ‘Daisy’ by Marc Jacobs I smell on you?” He asked the waitress, eerily intoxicated by her scent.
“Yes, it is,” she replied.
Read More: A Date at Starbucks: A Cappuccino Cheapskate
“Oh, that is a BIG weakness for me! My ex-girlfriend wore that perfume. That smell would always drive me crazy. You smell really nice.”
As the waitress and I locked eyes her pity on me was practically tangible.
I finished my vodka soda whilst enduring roughly ten minutes of Connor gabbing about the demise of his previous relationship and how believes he is now a much better person.
Finally, I told Connor I was feeling rather exhausted from the day and was gone before the delightfully smelling waitress even dropped the check.
Have you got an entertaining dating story of your own from Hoboken or Jersey City?
Email hobokengirlteam@gmail.com with subject DATING STORY to share yours!
