Should I Apple Pay Request Him?

I've officially entered my dating era.

Moving to a new state and writing a romantic-comedy novel has made me realize something: I cannot keep writing about fictional men and expect my soulmate to magically appear at my apartment door. Unfortunately, dating culture has changed, and I'm not entirely convinced I signed up for the social experiment that is modern dating.

But I know my person is out there. Somewhere.

So, naturally, I went on a first date involving a mountain, a man who couldn't stop telling me about his sports bets, and an attempted invitation to shower at my apartment.

And that's how my Arizona dating era began.

I went on this date about two weeks ago, and let's just say that within the first five minutes, I knew he wasn't getting a second one. I lowkey wish I'd just gone home before it even started or told him to go home so I could enjoy my morning hike without him. But in order to unlock this new era of actually putting myself out there, I powered through the next four hours.

And I already know what you're thinking. Avery, why would you go on a hike as a first date? Are you asking for your death sentence?

We've all heard the horror stories. If it makes you feel any better, I did NOT have pepper spray. I still believe my words and hands will get me pretty far in protecting myself. Shoutout to Passo Garage for teaching me a proper uppercut at the age of eight or nine. My childhood self-defense strategy was essentially to punch straight up the nose and hope for the best, then tell that fucker he's a loser-ass bitch and strut away like nothing happened.

Anyways, we met at the hiking spot because I refuse to let a guy pick me up on a first date. I prefer having my own car, and I don't need him knowing where I live. It takes a couple of dates to even make it to my front door. Honestly, I'm not sure I'm ready for a guy to enter my place just yet. The energy in my apartment is very peaceful, and I don't need an XY chromosome disturbing that peace.

Unfortunately, the park gates weren't open yet. As I was pulling up, I spotted him brushing his teeth.

At least his teeth were brushed!!

We then headed to a coffee shop, where I ordered two iced tea chais and two breakfast burritos for us. Did I mention I paid? And the breakfast burritos weren't even for me?

Yeah.

For someone so interested in getting to know me and taking me out, he apparently couldn't spare the swipe of his own card. But somehow, he had money to spend at the bar the night before and had just hit a big parlay. I think I heard that sports-betting story over five times during the hike.

And for some reason, you couldn't pay the $35 coffee tab?

Yeah, no thanks.

It's not like I don't know what it's like to be treated. I've had a man buy me a flight to Germany. I've had past lovers DoorDash food to me. I've had a guy walk into the closest shoe store and make me pick out a pair of UGGs so my feet would be warmer.

And this guy couldn't swipe the card he had supposedly "lost."

May I also add that I just moved out here? Be considerate and pay for me. At the very least, don't spend the morning telling me about your winning parlay while I'm paying for your breakfast.

He then started telling me some undercover-cop story. I swear I heard this story at least three times before the damn hike even started. By this point, my intrusive thoughts were clocking in for their shift.

Do I push him into a cactus and run? Or do I hope a rattlesnake makes an appearance and decides to sacrifice itself for the greater good?

My friend Ashlee back home said something along the lines of, "Push him off the mountain and enjoy your hike in peace."

Honestly, I should've taken the advice.

Despite how the date was going, I kept reminding myself that I was still going to get a great workout and take in some beautiful Arizona scenery. At this point, the mountain was the real date.

The "Babe" Situation

We hadn't even been hiking for five minutes when he started calling me babe and baby.

I DO NOT like those nicknames.

You say "babe" or "baby" in Walmart, and every bitch's head turns. And well, I am not every bitch.

I prefer personal nicknames. Something that actually feels like it belongs to me, not something you call every woman who makes eye contact with you.

I told him I didn't like it, and he apologized and said he'd stop. Well, he didn't stop.

I didn't bother correcting him after that because I already knew I wasn't seeing him again. Every time he'd slip up, he'd follow it with some stupid apology. I got the vibe that he knew exactly what he was doing, and that's a type of man I won't tolerate.

If I tell you I don't like something, I expect you to listen the first time. I shouldn't have to keep reminding a grown man of a boundary I established less than ten minutes into a hike.

The Man Who Agreed With Everything I Said

Another thing I noticed was that every time I answered a question, he somehow had the exact same answer.

For example, he asked what kind of wedding I wanted. First of all, I hate those kinds of questions on a first date. Like, fuck off. Let's talk about our dreams, goals, life adventures, and the things that actually make us who we are.

But I answered him anyway.

I told him I didn't care much for a traditional wedding. I want a love like the song Slide by the Goo Goo Dolls. I want to run away and get married.

I don't need my family there, eight girls standing beside me, or a bill to feed 200 mouths. I don't need an audience to celebrate my love. My love is a journey between me and my person, and I'd rather have an intimate, memorable experience marrying each other than spend a fortune putting on a show for everyone else.

His response?

"Yeah, oh my gosh. Me too. I'm the same way. I don't want anyone either."

Of course you don't.

Then he asked how many kids I wanted.

I told him five.

His response? "Well, come on, girl, we gotta start now if you want that many."

Like, fucking gross.

If there's one thing my clients back home taught me, it's to choose the right baby daddy. And the right baby daddy would absolutely not say that to me on a first date.

At some point, I realized that almost every response out of his mouth was either my own opinion paraphrased or something that seemed designed to appease me.

And listen, I can be pretty easy to get along with. But I'm not looking for a male version of myself who agrees with everything I say just to keep me interested.

I want a man with his own personality. A man who wears it proudly and isn't afraid to step into it. Someone who can challenge me, surprise me, teach me something, and make me see the world differently.

I don't want to date an echo.

The Mountain Was Starting to Look Like an Escape Route

At one point, I accidentally went off trail, and we took a little break to enjoy the scenery.

Finally, a moment of peace.

There was about a minute of silence. I was taking in the beautiful view and enjoying the little moment when I heard:

"Sit on my lap."

Gag.

There went my peace.

There wasn't one bit of silence during the entire hike, which normally wouldn't be a big deal. I'm a yapper myself. I can talk to a brick wall and somehow leave knowing its entire life story.

But between the endless questions, the same five stories on repeat, and the unwanted pet names, I was ready to push myself off the damn mountain just to end the conversation.

He also told me that his last two girlfriends had moved out of state pretty soon after their breakups.

And well, I'm not trying to move out of Arizona. I just got here.

I'm trying to build a life, grow my business, make friends, explore my new home, and maybe meet someone worth writing about. Preferably someone who doesn't make me consider faking an emergency halfway through a hike.

The Attempted Shower Invitation

Eventually, the hike came to an end.

Freedom was so close I could practically taste it.

But Homie had other plans. He was trying to come back to my place AND shower.

Like, fuck to the fuck no.

My apartment is not a public shower facility. You do not get to spend four hours testing my patience and then request access to my bathroom.

I was so desperate to find an alternative that I actually asked one of the workers if there was a shower available for him.

The dude thought I was joking and trying to be funny.

No. I was genuinely serious. I was looking for any possible way to get this man away from me without having to host him in my apartment.

I said goodbye, turned on Morgan Wallen, and drove away.

The peace. The quiet. The freedom to listen to music without hearing another undercover-cop story.

I was back in my element.

Apparently, We Were on Two Different Dates

I don't even think an hour had passed before I received a game of chess from him.

No.

A couple of hours later, another text came through.

"Camelback?"

Clearly, this man thought the date had gone well.

During the hike, he kept telling me how cool and mysterious I was. He also mentioned that when other girls were around him, he didn't care to know their names or look at them.

And honestly, I took that as a sign that he couldn't be platonic with a woman. It seemed like he only viewed women through the lens of romantic or intimate possibilities.

That's not the kind of man I want in my life, even as a friend.

I'm the type of person who can go on a date, realize there's no romantic connection, and still be open to friendship. I enjoy having friends. I like meeting people, hearing their stories, and making connections that don't have to turn into relationships.

But the little comments he made throughout the date showed me that I didn't even want that kind of friendship energy around me.

So I sent him a polite message saying something along the lines of, "I had a decent time with you, but I don't want to go on a second hike with you. I don't see this going anywhere for me."

And then he left me on read.

Honestly, fair enough.

Was It Really That Bad?

Here's the thing: I wasn't lying when I said I had a decent time.

I started my morning with a killer workout and, thankfully, without getting killed. I explored a new part of my home state, took in some beautiful scenery, and had a few moments of laughter.

He was funny.

But let's be honest. I'm funnier.

And despite everything, I still walked away with a story. As a girl who writes a blog and is currently writing a romantic-comedy novel, I can't pretend I didn't get some material out of the experience.

Maybe this is what entering my dating era is supposed to look like. Meeting people who aren't for me, learning what I want, recognizing what I won't tolerate, and collecting a few ridiculous stories along the way.

I don't expect every date to turn into a love story. I don't even expect every date to turn into a friendship.

But I do want to meet people who are unapologetically themselves. People who make me laugh, challenge my perspective, respect my boundaries, and don't treat dating like a performance where they just repeat whatever they think I want to hear.

And if my soulmate is out there, I hope he's doing something productive with his time.

Because I'm not going to meet him sitting in bed writing about fictional men forever.

The Billy Ray Cyrus Plot Twist

Obviously, I told my little sister about the date and showed her a picture of him.

Her response?

"He looks like Billy Ray Cyrus."

And yep. That was it for me.

Personally, I thought he looked like Stu Macher. Another friend called him Shaggy.

So now you have Billy Ray Cyrus, Stu Macher, and Shaggy all competing for space in your imagination.

You're welcome.

I hope you have fun creating an image of this man in your head. Between Billy Ray Cyrus, Stu Macher, and Shaggy, I'm honestly not sure which mental image is the most unfortunate.

And if my soulmate is reading this somewhere, please know that I am still looking for you.

Just maybe don't ask to shower at my apartment on the first date.