Don’t You Know That You’re Toxic?

This is my official “I had a date from hell and must share it” piece. I’ve been single for quite some time now, and have met guys from several different places – including the apps Grindr and Tinder. In my opinion, Grindr is for one thing. That’s just how I view it, and am pretty sure the majority of gay men who use it also do too. Tinder, on the other hand, is in a higher echelon – I feel it’s more conducive to dating and less sexually charged. I haven’t met too many guys off of either, but decided to meet a Tinder match face to face a few months ago, and it went from zero to crazy in a matter of hours.


He seemed like a normal guy. That’s what they all say, right? Well he truly did – I’ll go so far as saying that he works in the education field, so I assumed he had been properly vetted. I put him through my own vetting process, and decided it would be fine to meet up for beers. Mind you, I’m not a beer drinker at all, but he was and I thought “why not show him my masc side?” I found a hip brewery close to my house and stumbled into the crowded place in search of my newly found Tinder match. He was definitely handsome, was already at the bar, and had already had at least one drink. I suggested we get some light food, but once I saw fried mac ‘n’ cheese bites on the menu, that idea was over. I devoured my food, got seconds, and drank about three beers. I felt totally fine – almost sober. The conversation was great and I was attracted to him and curious about where things could go. So when we finished, I suggested we Uber back to my place.

Now before you kill me, ALL OF YOU (or most of you) HAVE DONE THIS BEFORE. I wasn’t planning on screwing him (even if I was, who cares?) but I wanted to have a couple more drinks and make out. I had the house to myself, so I had no concerns whatsoever. We arrived at my place and I gave him the tour, ending up in my kitchen kissing passionately against my counter. I suggested drinks, and he marveled at my bar selection, choosing to make an enormous martini. Halfway through drinking it, he changed. Something seemed off. I have been around a billion people who are intoxicated, but this was different from that. I realized the booze was a terrible idea, and that he was now drunk and maybe more.

I excused myself to the bathroom, at which point I texted a friend for some advice. He said he would come over and help break the tension and then offer him a ride home. I was relieved and had a plan. Suddenly I heard screaming, and I mean SCREAMING coming from the other room, and I heard my date on his phone. He was saying things such as “this was a horrible idea” and “why did I come out in the first place” and other bizarre phrases. He would pause and listen to his friend, and then keep firing back angry sentiments about myself and the night. At this point, I knew I might have to take measures into my own hands, which as a pretty strong guy, I’m not afraid to do. I emerged from my bathroom, expecting him to be ranting on his phone, when to my horror I noticed THERE WAS NO PHONE. He had been having an imaginary conversation, and I was now having a very real panic attack.

Dealing with “crazy” is completely different than dealing with a normal human being. I’m not a doctor, so I can’t say this man was crazy, but the behavior was extremely off, and I imagined he either took medication that doesn’t mix with alcohol, or did not take medication he should have. I knew my friend was on his way (thankfully he’s the same hunk that helped me save Christmas), and the best thing to do is try to soothe the crazy. I talked to him in a very rational calm manner, and he continued to lose it at me. He was very condescending, and very out of it. I needed a breath of fresh air, so I went on my balcony for a minute to “look at the stars.” Then he locked me outside.

I texted my friend and was like “omg this has gotten serious.” I updated him and he replied that he was like 25 minutes away. I wasn’t scared for my life, but I was freaked out for sure. I wanted back in my house more than anything, so I pantomimed through the sliding door and was smiling and doing anything I could do to get him to open sesame. It worked, and he let me back in and I acted as though nothing had happened. I turned to him and said “hey man, is there anything at all I could do for you?” His reply was “yes, can you play Britney Spears’ ‘Toxic’?” I was dying inside, because moments before he had insulted my masculinity, and was now requesting Brit Brit to calm his ass down. I played “Toxic” as loud as possible, and when it was over, I played it again. And again, and again. It genuinely had a relaxing effect on him, so I was so down – ANYTHING at that point.

At least 10 “Toxic”s later, my friend texted that he had arrived. I surreptitiously answered the front door, and he came into the house and helped me command the situation. My “date” took one look at my stud pal and knew that the gig was up. He declined the ride offer, and insisted on driving himself home. At this point, I wasn’t going to argue with him, regardless of his state. I knew there were cops stationed up my street, and if he was driving while intoxicated, they’d get him. He hadn’t touched his martini in a while, and had to find his keys anyway, which mysteriously had vanished. An hour later – legitimately – a full hour, and he found his keys in one of my bathrooms. At least that’s what he claimed, who the hell knows if he even lost them in the first place. I was just THRILLED to send him home. He wasn’t drunk anymore, and his composure had changed again – this time to humiliation.

My friend and I closed the front door, sighed, and I told him all of the sordid details. We decided it might actually make for a good horror flick, but his character would most certainly have to die (and probably my cat). I blocked my mismatch on all social media, and texts as well. I knew he would never try to contact me again, but I’m a stickler for blocking. I went to bed way more precarious about dating than I ever have been, but woke up a lot more grounded. Weeks later, I was at my gym and “Toxic” came on. I had a post-traumatic stress reaction and bugged out, right there in the weight room. Then, gradually, I listened to Britney’s words of wisdom, picked up the dumbbells, and rocked the set like never before. I realized that I can handle any dating scenario now, and if I ever get freaked out again? It’s Britney, bitch.

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