We’ve been around the Internet a few times and, often, find ourselves down a rabbit hole of new blogs and fascinating, funny or (depending on the day) heartbreaking articles. Rather than keeping those gems to ourselves, we’re creating a destination to share our favorites. This is where Blog Crush comes in. A few times a month we’ll be reposting articles from sites that we think you should be reading to help navigate your quarter-life – or, in some cases ones, that give you a much needed a break from reality.
First up? A new blog called What Boys May Come where they are inviting women to anonymously dish their best dating stories. Below is one of our favorites. We hope you love it too!
Article originally published by What Boys May Come on February 6th, 2014. Addicted to dating stories? Check out the full roster on their website and follow them on Twitter to keep up on their latest tales.
Six months after graduating college I reluctantly decided to try online dating. “Everyone’s doing it” everyone said. Within minutes I had a message from “you_happier.” He was a 6’2” blonde film enthusiast who sent me a story about how he almost saved a woman’s life. While normally such a message would make me cringe and delete my account, my post-collegiate stress disorder (or PCSD) was in full effect, so I agreed to meet him for coffee at Grey Dog Café in Union Square.
He was already seated when I arrived, hands wrapped eagerly around a balloon-sized coffee mug. He was wearing a dark blue beanie, plaid shirt and tight jeans with one leg rolled up for easy bike access. I took a seat across from him, ordered a cappuccino, and we got to talking. Two hours later I wandered across the street to a friend’s apt, who was in the midst of redecorating. Seated in a pile of throw pillows she asked “So?” to which I replied, “We’ll see.”
One week later he invited me on a “proper date” which began at a whiskey bar on Pearl Street. We discussed music for what seemed like days over a plate of fries and multiple Manhattan’s. He (seemingly spontaneously) decided we should take a stroll by the South Street Seaport. While walking by the vast abyss of water, precariously cradling enormous vessels of all kinds, I started to feel like I could really date this guy. I was, in fact, me happier.
Suddenly he pulled me closer to the gate stopping tourists from falling into the East River and said, “Let’s go onto this ship” pointing to the oldest steamship of the lot. I hoped he was kidding, but he definitely wasn’t. He took my purse, threw it onto the ship, then one leg after another hoisted himself over as well, leaving me alone without any possessions that could get me the hell out of there. Slowly but surely I followed suit.
Without skipping a beat, he pulled out a flask from his jacket pocket and started playing jazz from his phone. “This was planned?” I asked. “Oh, absolutely” he replied with a satisfied smile. He came over to me and started slow dancing, our bodies rocking with the water.
You_happier was wonderful. I broke it off two weeks later because I wasn’t over my ex. Figures.