date 7: the hipster

The Hipster was one of those music snobs where instead of asking what you listen to, they just constantly namedrop and ask you if you know the musician. I’m a dj at the college radio station so I guess they look at me as fun competition. Of course I never knew who he was talking about.

He always talked about his trendy hipster friends that live in Silverlake. He’s always so exhausted because he goes to shows every weekend and pulls all-nighters in LA.

“Are you into David Bazan?”

“Um. I like the name David?”

Turns out I did know David Bazan. He’s the lead singer of Pedro The Lion. Sorry we’re not on a first name basis yet. He then told me how they spoke at a urinal once. In Silverlake, of course.

“Have you heard of Soko?”

“I love whiskey.”

“Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros?”

“I love the Magnetic Fields.”

For our first date we met at a trendy hipster hangout. It has lots of shops including Buffalo Exchange and a store where they have old school Nikes in refrigerators. We agree on a Cuban restaurant we both know.

We talk at the bar and the conversation is going really well. We both seem smart and motivated but not nerds. He’s attractive but a little on the short side. It’s obvious he tries to make up for it in style. Short guys love to be stylish. They love hair products too.

After a drink at the bar, we finally get settled at a table. All of a sudden I feel like it’s the Spanish Inquisition. He bombards me with questions and I end up talking about my ex which I HATE to do. I feel like it’s just so unattractive to go on about an ex on a date. I didn’t even get to eat my friend plantains between my favorite Tarantino movie and what I think of southern accents.

 The check comes up and I do the usual flinch. I almost said “you going to let me pay?” but usually the flinch is enough. By the time the card is leaving my wallet, they’re swatting me away and telling me I can get it next time. The hipster was different.

 He didn’t say a word.

I slid my card over his and for the first time in recorded history — I paid for my own date. I died.

 He was talking and it was obvious I wasn’t paying attention. I was just thinking “is he serious right now?” He has a successful job and it seemed like he was having a good time. Maybe I’m old fashioned but I think the guy should always pay on the first date. I mean, from his standpoint he only has something to gain. By stiffing, it can only look bad. What girl says, “Yay, we went dutch!”

 The best part was after the waiter goes off with BOTH cards and comes back with the receipts, he turns to TH and says, “I’m sorry sir. Your MasterCard was declined.” HA.

Karma.

I don’t look up at all during this interaction. I just take my tab and pay it. He is mumbling something about this never happening and is holding onto the waiter, keeping him there until he can find one that works. Sweet Jesus.

He finally finds a card and pulls out his iPhone and tells me he wants to check something. We just paid so I don’t see why I have to sit here while he emails MasterCard but I guess he’s not the most chivalrous guy. He realizes this a moment later. It could have been because I was staring at him in disbelief.

We hug goodbye and he says he hopes we can do it again sometime. I’m just thinking we’re going to have to eat someplace cheaper.

The thing is, I really liked him. We had a lot in common and he was nice to talk to. He had a good sense of humor and he was intelligent. But that money thing seriously turned me off. It’s not that I’m poor or expect guys to front me. It’s just courtesy. It’s manners.

I don’t know. This dating stuff isn’t getting easier.