May 2006, Boulder, Colorado

By Morgan Fraser

The only thing worse than a bad date is a good date with a guy you have no interest in dating.

It is always unfortunate when the date itself is a great idea, like the weekly cruiser ride through downtown Boulder, Colorado, with a bunch of leisure biking enthusiasts dressed up in their most outrageous attire. It’s the kind of thing you want to do again, just not as a date. This is where I found myself with John, a really nice guy who’s very into biking (probably owns five different bikes), works at an ER in Denver, is 27, and just great, if only I were interested in him romantically.

I’m not.

John invited me on the cruiser ride twice before I felt I had the time and energy after a harrowing week at work, and we ran into Awkward Moment Number One when I got to his house and he came downstairs shirtless. This shouldn’t have been awkward, because it’s actually not a big deal to see men shirtless, but for some reason it was.

Awkward Moment Number Two was when we got to Wahoo’s Fish Tacos (the official starting place of the Thursday cruiser ride) and the lady at the counter asked if we were paying together or separately. Pregnant pause. “Um, yeah, sure,” he said, as I shook my head vigorously.

He tried to make up for that one by buying me a beer, which led to Awkward Moment Number Three: I had forgotten my I.D. and they wouldn’t serve me. Ouch.

Awkward Moment Number Four was a direct result of that: I was explaining the no I.D. dilemma to a man in neon orange sweat pants named Bobalicous, who then casually nodded in John’s direction, asked, “Boyfriend?” so the whole table could hear, then ordered me a Margarita on his tab when I answered, “Friend.” What was I supposed to say?

The cruiser ride was about 100 people, all moving along at a snail’s pace on the strangest contraptions that could still count as bikes: two-story get-ups that had been welded together, a double-seater that looked much like a bus bench with rear-wheel drive and cock-’n-ball steering (the shaft was a huge bright red dildo with the balls still attached) and numerous pimped out ’50s style cruising bikes with dinging bells and streamers coming out of the handles. We stopped in parking lots and created huge circles of whirling bikes, followed a sound system mounted on the back of a lead bike, and drank beer from our water bottles. Had it not had the expectation-like aura of a date, it would have been a perfect night.

Awkward Moment Number Five came when I met his friend Tom, who knew all about me. This is when you realize that as much as you were hoping that maybe it was a casual thing, he’s been talking about you – a lot, from what Tom knew – and that hope is dashed like a dropped beer can on pavement at cruising speed.

Awkward Moment Number Six was as the ride was breaking up in downtown Boulder and I said I needed to go home. One guy poked me in the ass with a Star Wars light saver, as a (hot) friend of John licked my fingers – right in front of him. John said, “He’s got her ass, Luke’s got her fingers, what can I do?” Oh. My. God.

I was convinced to go out for one more drink, even though I needed to pee like I had never had to pee before (Awkward Moment Number Four and a Half: at one point Aaron wandered away about 15 feet to pee on a bush right next to the bike trail) but of course this sparked Awkward Moment Number Seven, when I couldn’t get into the bar because three football players with no necks were checking I.D.s at the door, and of course I didn’t have one.

On our way back to his house everything went just fine; I peed for about a minute and a half straight, then brought on Awkward Moment Number Seven by volunteering too much information about a friend I was pissed at who had borrowed my bike and not brought it back. At this point we were standing on opposite sides of his dining room table, and with practiced ease (wince) I propelled myself around it and to the door, mumbling what a great time I had
had and that I would see him later.

I kept walking until I was out the door and away from the steps, i.e. away from Awkward Moment Number Eight, where he might want to make this romantic, when all I wanted to do was go home.

The avoiding of Awkward Moment Number Eight actually created Awkward Moment Number Eight, as he waved one last goodbye from the dust I had left him in and closed the door with a confused look on his face.

When I relayed the story to a friend of mine, she asked if I had used the Boxer’s Bob and Weave, a well known duck-and-run for getting around the end-of-the-night kiss that is a hideous custom, whether you like the guy or not. Even if your entire night was free of Awkward Moments, this is a guaranteed one: Do you or don’t you? What does it mean if you do or don’t?

The kiss expectation has also ruined the time when you could tell the guy you actually aren’t interested, because it’s much easier to bob and weave than to stop him mid-pucker and feed him one of the excuses that’s been forming in your head all night that could be the potential Awkward Moment Number Nine:

“Look, no offense, but I’m just not that into you. Can I still go on the cruiser ride next week? I think your friend Luke’s HOT.”

“You’re one of those guys that looks good on paper, but I can’t imagine doing you. Sorry.”

“I have this terrible illness. I could die at any time, so I don’t want to be tied down to any one person. In fact, I’m much more interesting tied to two people.”

“I’m a misanthrope. That means I hate people. You’re no exception.”

“Excuse me, I think I might throw up.”

“Actually, I’m a man. Surprise!”

I hate dating. I have no idea how people do this casually, or all the time. I would rather lay around with a book and a glass of wine or some chocolate, because there are never any awkward moments then. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do, and my newest excuse: “I’m never tired of chocolate, but I am tired of you.”

Morgan Fraser is a Washington state native who can never stay at home for long. Her favorite writing subject is the pitfalls of world travel.

Posted by Elizabeth Armstrong Moore on Friday, January 26th, 2007 | Email This Post

This entry was posted on Friday, January 26th, 2007 at 12:02 am. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.