#TinderTuesdays: That Time a Guy Serenaded Me With Acoustic Britney Spears Songs
Once a week, Yahoo Style shares the funny, failed, and sometimes charming stories of Tinder dates. This week, Lauren gets a voice lesson: Female, 23, Brooklyn.
I was feeling spontaneous one Thursday night when I showed up at a very small, very compact bar in the West Village to meet my Tinder date for drinks. We’d only chatted for a day or two—on-and-off—but I was already drunk and had no problem meeting someone “blindly.”
I spent five minutes looking all over for my date (my nightmare is not recognizing a Tinder date, aimlessly wandering the bar). I sat down next to some handsome guy my age with a beanie on, hoping that he was my date.
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“Hey, I’m Lauren!”
“Cool,” he responded.
“Shit,” I mumbled, sweating.
So I ordered a drink, threw it back, and continued to search.
I nervously pulled up the Tinder app on my phone to check in with my date when I heard my name being called over a microphone. I did a slow motion turn to the stage to find my date sitting on a stool with his guitar and fedora. Shit. I flashed a toothy grin and waved as he tipped his hat and resumed his acoustic set.
Feeling drunk, extremely hot (as in, the temperature), and not knowing what to do, I stumbled back to the bar as he worked his through acoustic coffee house versions of Britney Spears. “Hit Me Baby One More Time,” led into “Sometimes,” which led into a tragic rendition of “Toxic.” Was he gay? At this point, I hoped so.
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Things got worse when I noticed the girl sitting to my right, pounding drinks even faster than I. Our rapid drinking subsequently turned into small talk, which quickly revealed that she, too, was waiting for Mr. Britney Spears to wrap. Surely one of us would go home empty handed, and quite frankly I hoped it was me.
“I’m gonna pee and get out of here,” she said.
I considered doing the same, but by the time I signaled the bartender to pay my bill, our bachelor touched my bare shoulder, sending creepy shivers down my spine. Shit.
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After 30 minutes of awkward small talk in which I was forced to see the kale Caesar salad he had for dinner lounging in between his teeth, I cut the date short. I was too drunk to prattle about his music or explain why I’d just quit my job.
He picked up my staggering tab and we walked out of the bar while he whistled “Toxic.” I hobbled toward a vacant cab, while he leaned in for the kiss.
“Whatever,” I thought. Fortunately he missed my lips, landing a wet one somewhere between the corner of my mouth and ear.
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A day later I had one Facebook friend request, one Instagram follow, and best of all, an invite to another coffee house gig. I declined all three.
Tell us about your Tinder story! Please write to tindertuesdays@yahoo.com.
