I met this guy online who I'll call Paul (because I forgot his real name - trust me, it's not worth remembering). We exchanged pictures and I had to admit his looks weren't the type I'd normally be attracted to. However, he was witty in his emails and he sounded cultivated. Several months passed by and he was starting to peg me about meeting in person. I had been avoiding the meeting basically because I didn't think he looked good enough to be worthy of my time and effort. But, at one point, I suppose I broke down and agreed to meet him. I took the metro and met him at the station, but I had to wait 45 minutes before he could come and pick me up. He said he was stuck on the phone talking to his mother and couldn't leave. When he arrived, I suddenly knew I wanted to go home early that evening. He was stout to begin with. He had this baby face and was moderately overweight. He also lied about his height. He took us to this pretty cool joint 30 minutes away from the station. At the restaurant, I avoided having to sit with him and we barely spoke to each other. When I did, he looked so nervous. So, I suggested a beer and couple of pool games. But, it was probably a bad suggestion with Paul because when his order arrived, he slobbered on those buffalo wings without even pausing to offer me some (although I hate wings). He really ate those wings sinfully and when he looked up and spoke, he had sauce all over his mouth. I'm not kidding - sauce all over and some was spitting out of his mouth. It was so gruesome and my stomach churns every time I relieve that memory. After purposely losing the game of pool, I told him that my friend paged me and needed me to go pick her up at the airport. Amazingly, that was the truth! So I went out of there as fast as I could and never appreciated a subway ride home as much as I did that night.
— Jackie, 26