Dateless in Denver: The Meet Market Does Not Require a Love of Bacon

At the start of the summer, in anticipation of all those hot times ahead, we shared a string of articles about dating in Denver, including a cover piece that explored "Why Dating in Denver Is a Dumpster Fire." We also hosted an essay contest asking readers to share their best bad-date story.

Now, because misery loves company, we've introduced "Dateless in Denver," a series of reader essays on the realities of dating in Denver — the good, the bad and the ugly — that kicked off with Jess's story of a date who sharted on her lawn. Last week R.M. shared his story of a bad first date on First Friday. Now read Mer's tale:

I am currently on a dating hiatus, but I can report on my last date a year and a half ago, which is why I decided to go on said hiatus and be one of those problematic childless dog ladies. I have not met a single man in Denver that I find to be tolerable for more than two hours at this point.

My last date was on a cold night in the early winter. It was snowing enough to coat the streets a little and make it a huge effort to be outside. We had both swiped on each other on either Bumble or Hinge. At this point I don’t remember; they’re all basically the same, right? We intended to meet up at the Barcelona wine bar because at least I enjoy that place despite any potential new date issues. However, on that night it was closed — probably due to the weather — so we had to search for a new place to have a drink. We found an open watering hole and sat down at the bar for a drink. Now, I am not a heavy drinker. I’m a barely-there drinker, so I ordered something that sounded like a good cocktail and did not intend to order any more.

We proceeded to start chatting about the usual details. Where are you from; what do you do. I found out he was reportedly retired in his late thirties as he proceeded to brag about how easy it is to become a millionaire with real estate holdings. He was proud of his work, profiting off of the basic need for people to have housing. I did not call him out, as this was the first time I was meeting him. I just kept my thoughts to myself. He found out I was a vegetarian and basically called me out for rejecting things like bacon: “How could you not eat bacon?? Everyone loves bacon!"

At this point, the bartender interjected that “Muslim and Jewish people don’t.” The bartender actually came into a lot of our conversation, and I realized later he was trying to save me from this guy, who was basically using the date to poke fun at everything I said about myself. I don’t know if there is a term for this, but he was all about it. After the longest hour of this, he had downed two cocktails. I had finished my one drink, and he called me out for only having one drink.

We got the check and he decisively did not pay for my drink. I tipped the bartender well and got the hell out of there. Needless to say, this date tipped the scales for me to stop forcing myself to meet up with strangers on dating apps. I clearly was not picky enough, and I will never have that hour of my life back again.

But major props to that bartender, although I doubt it has changed that man in any way.

Have a dating story — good or bad — that you'd like to share? We'll be running another installment of "Dateless in Denver" next weekend. Send your submission to [email protected].