OK Cupid Files, Part Quatre: The Hobbyist

Scene 1: Hot summer afternoon in August, I'm lounging on my bed, trying to figure out how not to suffocate. The Drama Magnet texts me to come down to “do research”, which in her field of work means shopping. A couple of stores into it, she announces that I am to accompany her on a date, as she cannot bare the thought of facing another loser alone. “Its an OK Cupid guy, I told him I’m bringing a friend.”

Scene 2: Café Charlot, twenty minutes past the scheduled meeting time. OK Cupid guy is late. We're munching on French fries. Suddenly, a motorcycle pulls up and a tall, well-built blond guy gets off. However, something seems distinctly odd about him. (SHOCKER.) In the beginning of August, at a rare time that Paris is scorchingly hot, the dude is wearing layers upon laters upon layers of black clothing, and not in a cool Rick Owens way. Black button-down, black leather jacket, black boots, and something that can only be described as black nylon snowboarding pants with zippers on the side.

Black nylon snowboarding pants with zippers on the side. In August.

Of course, we ask. He explains that he was driving in from the campagne, and so he needed protection from the occasional breeze. We give him the benefit of the doubt – after all, you can't judge a book by its cover, or, in this case, by its Gore-Tex.

We try to break the ice with some small talk, at which point it only gets worse. You see, it turns out that, at the age of 35, our new friend is freshly retired. No, he has not just sold a billion dollar start-up, he has simply decided that he is tired of wasting the best years of his life on work. Instead, he plans on focusing on the things he enjoys most in life: reading, drawing, watching movies. Basically, his hobbies, most of which can be conducted from the comfort of his bed. So, he has pretty much retired to lay in bed and watch movies.

At this point, beer is gushing out of TDM’s nose. Having heard bigger idiocracy in the past, I remain relatively calm and collected. Awkward silence ensues. 

Suddenly, our date takes out his phone and steps out to take an imaginary phone call. A minute later, he returns and tells us that he needs to go. The guy in the black nylon snowboarding pants with zippers on the side has just played the classic SATC "Something Bad Happened" move on us.

Scene 3: TDM  deactivates OK Cupid that evening. I wait a few days and realize that I can never last on this thing without the buddy system. Our month-long OK Cupid stint comes to an end, providing us with an assortment of dinner horror stories that never cease to amaze our friends. Soon we became an enigma of sorts, known for our talents for attracting the biggest losers on the planet.

LE END.