Dating can be, quite frankly, a challenge. It takes some serious effort to weed out the weirdos {we’ve all been there} and find someone worthwhile. Often, being in the thick of the dating game can lead to some funny {we mean clutch your gut, bend over laughing funny} stories. Thanks to the Single Society, those stories are being transformed into fun, shareable, and readable stories for all of us to enjoy. Keep reading to find out how one local resident had an interesting, and unfortunately, bad date involving a tongue trip-up at Porta.
{Photo credit: @portajerseycity}
Being new {and newly single} to Jersey City I decided it was about time I dust off the ‘ol dating apps and get myself back into the game.
I matched with Craig and we connected over the fact that we both would be perfectly content living on halal truck food, our mutual appreciation for house music festivals, and our love of ski vacations in Vermont. This could be a match, indeed.
Craig suggested we do dinner and drinks at Porta on Grove Street at 7:00PM, hoping we would be lucky enough to score a good spot on the rooftop on a beautiful July night.
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Feeling rather positive about this potential romance, I donned a lovely pink lace romper, some flirty high heels, and went so far as to get a blowout to ensure a perfectly quaffed hairdo for my potential suitor. I was definitely feelin’ myself.
I strutted my stuff into Porta at 7:10PM {because I needed to make my entrance, of course} and searched for Craig in the sea of people.
Craig then texted me and told me he was running late, but to go to the roof deck and try to secure a spot.
I put our name in for a table and ordered myself a cocktail. Fifteen minutes and another cocktail and still no sign of Craig.
Finally, he made his appearance and told me that we best find somewhere else to go considering it would be over an hour for a table.
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Craig was lugging a rather large backpack around as he clearly just came from work.
“Do you mind if we swing by my place real quick so I can drop this off?” He asked.
Considering he made it seem like he lived in somewhat close proximity to our current location, I said it would be fine.
We ended up walking several blocks down Newark Avenue, then hung a right and proceeded about eight more blocks. The stilettos I was wearing were certainly not meant for such trekking, and I could feel the blisters forming on the backs of my ankles.
We got to Craig’s apartment, and {for some reason}, I followed him up to his fifth-floor walk-up.
His studio was quite small and dingy, to say the least. There was a tie-dyed Grateful Dead blanket covering the windows, allowing the smallest remnant of sunlight to enter. It smelled of rancid mildew, and there was about a week’s worth of dirty dishes piled up in the sink.
“I just need to sit for a minute. It’s been a long day,” he said.
Despite my fear of contracting scabies from his sofa, I took a seat.
“Ughhhh what a day,” Craig lamented. “I guess you’re hungry?”
“Yeah, I am getting hungry,” I replied, actually quite famished and hoping it would get me out of this putrid apartment quicker.
Craig walked over to his fridge and pulled out two cans of beer. He placed one in front of me whilst cracking open the other.
“I’m just mad tired. Let me see what I can do for dinner,” he said, rummaging through his pantry. “I’ve got some pretzels here. I can make some of this Rice A Roni, and I have some chicken in the fridge I can heat up.”
Repulsed by the mere thought of ingesting anything that came from his kitchen, I told him I was fine and should probably leave him to get some rest.
“Ahhh I feel like I messed up our night. I’m so sorry. I hope we can have another go around because I do think you’re really cool, I just had a hectic work week so far,” he said as I hastily made my way to the door.
I assured him that it was fine and that I had enjoyed talking to him in order to expedite my escape.
Craig wrapped his arms around my waist and went in for a kiss. I awkwardly turned my head and gave him a slight air kiss to the side of his face.
I pulled away, and with his hands still snuggly wrapped around my midsection and our faces uncomfortably close.
“Ah, you don’t kiss on the first date?” He asked. “That’s OK.”
Craig then stared at me right in the eyes and came in for what I thought was another kiss…then slowly ran his tongue right up my nose. I could feel his wet slobber drench the area between my nostrils and up past the tip of my nose.
“EWWWW! You just licked me!” I squealed in disgust.
“You’re just so cute I couldn’t help myself,” he replied cheekily.
Horrified, I freed myself from his grasp and scurried out the door. When I made it to the sidewalk I scoured my handbag for tissues or anything to wipe his saliva from my face.
Craig texted me the ubiquitous “You up” and “WYD” texts the following few weeks, but he will definitely not be receiving a reply, especially since I wasted a perfectly good blowout on that a**hole.
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!
