Gone In 60 Seconds… I Was Ditched On a First Date

Should you ghost a date if you are not feeling it?

There are three things that move fast in life — light, sound, and attraction. Behavioral psychologists have estimated that it takes less than a tenth of a second to form a first impression. That's faster than you can blink.

The speed of attraction is so fast that it has led to a cottage industry in "speed dating" — dates under 5 minutes. The concept is simple. Why waste time with hours of witty banter when you know if there is chemistry in the first few seconds? Why not just cut and run if you are not feeling it?

I recently went on a first date that started with hysterical crying in the bathroom and ended in…

Not so fast. We will get to the juicy bits.

This past year, my parents became "snowbirds" and bought a house in Naples, Florida. I have been traveling back and forth between Boston and Naples to check in on them.

But I had yet to do any nightly galavanting in Naples. And after a week of feeling like a grounded teen, I knew there was an easy solution to being in a new city and not knowing anyone — Tinder.

Within five minutes of opening the app, I had a date for the evening. (Don't hate me, gentlemen, it's just easier for women because we are grossly outnumbered.)

I had few expectations other than to have an engaging conversation with someone younger than eighty. My date was a thirty-six-year-old model, and I didn't think I would have much in common with a six-foot genetically superior man who gets paid to look pretty. But he had the kind of hair that made you wonder…how the heck did you sculpt that masterpiece? I needed to know.

I showed up at the bar, and Fabio* was waiting for me at the door with his back to me. Ah yes, a gentleman. We were off to a good start.

He turned around, and sure enough, he was stunningly beautiful. Tall, dark, handsome, hair doing something that defied gravity, eyelashes like a baby giraffe, pecs bulging out of his t-shirt… Ok, ok, you get the picture. The guy was hot AF.

I immediately was not attracted to him.

I have never been attracted to perfect-looking people. Maybe it is the artist in me, but pretty boys leave nothing to the imagination. If I take a bite out of the apple, I need something meatier to cut my teeth on. And I hate to admit it, but some of my most vapid conversations have been with beautiful men. Not always. But often.

Instead, give me a balding, brainy, short guy with a wicked sense of humor, and I am ready to drop an ovary. My brain will always be my biggest sex organ. Still, I was determined to make the most of the evening.

Fabio introduced himself, and we went inside to get a seat at the bar. Before my arse could even hit the barstool, he said, "I need to run to the bathroom."

He never came back.

My first thought was — Fabio just got abducted by a Mexican drug cartel (in Naples) and is now trapped in a white van with his texting fingers handcuffed behind his back. I must save him!

My second thought was less imaginative. I am an ugly troll who will die alone with her nine cats, eleven vibrators, and zero love. Do you hear that scraping sound? That's the sound of my clubbed foot dragging behind my monstrous body in my empty bell tower.

I ran to the bathroom and bawled.

After a few minutes of self-indulgent tears, I realized I had two choices. I could go home and stew in self-pity or pull myself together and make the best of a crappy evening.

Of course, I chose to make lemon-infused martinis out of my lemons…

As soon as I exited the bathroom, I bumped into another ridiculously good-looking guy with eyes so blue they looked like they had been plucked out of a vintage doll. The men are all good-looking in Naples.

"Hey, are you ok?"

(I am an ugly crier, so I am pretty sure he thought I had been punched in the face.)

"I am good. I just got ditched by a date."

I then regaled him with my tale of woe. He told me his name was Arthur* and tried to mend my shattered ego.

"You are beautiful. A total ten. That guy was a jerk. Let me buy you a drink."

"No, I am ok. I think I am just going to head home."

That's when Arthur looked me straight in the eyes and gave me one of those ironic looks that people give you when you are acting peevish.

"I don't think you really wanted to go on a date with this guy,” he said. “You just wanted to get out of the house and have some fun tonight. So let's make that happen."

And so we did.

(If my parents are reading this, I am sorry I came home at 3 AM, but at least now I have friends in Naples.)

The following morning, I thought about whether Fabio had done me a favor by ditching me. Yes, it really hurt my pride. But I also wouldn't have had such a fun night if he had not. Arthur had something Fabio did not — character.

There is nothing sexier than a man with character.

Unfortunately, an honorable character is hard to find these days. Surprisingly, when I told this story to a few of my girlfriends, every last one of them had an "I got ditched on a date" horror story too. Online dating has become so transactional that we don't even have the decency to spend one hour sharing a drink with a stranger.

When did dating become horsetrading?

(Warning: switching to my pedantic old lady voice…)

I really wish we would stop throwing people away like paper cups. I have gone on plenty of first dates in which I knew within seconds that there was never going to be a second date. I still had a fabulous time. And some of those dates have become close friends.

And Arthur was right. I didn't want to go on a date with anyone. I just wanted to share some witty repartee and a delicious martini with a kind, intelligent person for a few hours.

So here's the deal. We all know that online dating has become root canal painful. Most of us just want each date to end as soon as it starts. But maybe romance might slow down and become more enjoyable if we stopped running through our checklist. Slow down enough to at least see someone.

So wherever Fabio is in the world, thank you. You were the best first date I have had in a long time.

*Names changed.

Carlyn Beccia is an award-winning author and illustrator of 13 books.

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