The Frat Boy

July began with The Frat Boy.

My first ever U.S. soldier. (Navy, technically, if that means anything to you)

The date actually went pretty well, I would say, and i don’t have any particularly weird stories about the guy. Well, there was the moment when he suddenly dropped into this absurdly low voice during sex (I'm easy, we've established that). It was so low that his voice actually cracked. I genuinely struggle to describe how deeply unsettling that moment was. It sounded like a cartoon demon trying to seduce me. I wish I'd somehow recorded it just so you could all cringe with me. I've been haunted by it ever since.

I also discovered that I find being called "baby" quite the ick, who would’ve thought? Or maybe it was just because I barely knew the guy? Data is inconclusive on this matter so let’s just put a pin in it for now.

I do have to give him credit where credit is due: the man was a gentleman. Opening doors and shit, doing all the little things that apparently qualify as “chivalry” in America.

This will become a recurring theme with American men, as I would later discover. Apparently somewhere between military training and high school prom, they learn a very specific brand of old-school manners.

I’m still deciding whether I love it or find it slightly suspicious.

Now, for the question I know you’re all asking yourselves: did we talk politics? Not really, no. Apart from the fact that he said he tries to stay “as apolitical as he possibly can” because “being up to date with U.S. politics is just so draining.”

MY GUY. You are literally in the military while your country is involved in an active conflict in the Middle East. You might want to keep up with that lunatic you all call president.

But I digress.

Back to dating, I think. Although, while we’re here, I have to give him credit: he didn’t seem full-on fascist. Which, honestly, feels like a very low bar, but we’re keeping track of the wins.

You know what he was though? Catholic.

I forgot for a moment that a lot of Americans are actually religious, so I buffered for a second. Luckily, I was able to catch myself before saying something potentially offensive.

One thing I appreciated was that he wasn’t some other weird form of Christian. Catholics I know. Catholics I can deal with.

So we’ve established that nothing too crazy happened, fortunately. But on the second date, things started to pile up for me.

First of all, as if being in the U.S. Navy wasn’t enough, he revealed that he was also in a frat (and not even remotely embarrassed about it). Which, okay, you stand by your choices, I guess. It’s fine that you’re not ashamed of your past, really it is, but not even one self-deprecating joke? I feel like that was a bit outrageous.

But, as we’ve already established, I’m a judgmental little shit.

Unfortunately, as we started talking more about his college days, he kept rambling about all the sick (🤙🏻) parties his frat used to host, which got old very quickly.

Being a good storyteller, he wasn’t satisfied with just telling stories. He needed to show them too. So, like every self-respecting man, he whipped out his… phone and started showing me videos, photos, and whatever proof he could find that, yes, he was in fact a party animal, and that his frat brothers (he actually used the phrase “frat brothers”; I didn’t think people actually said that in real life) were the fucking shit(🤙🏻) .

He even went so far as to tell me that UC Santa Barbara is actually a pretty big “party school” (whatever that means).

I should probably mention at this point that he had actually lost his faith during college and found it again after the partying.

I am now realizing that I don’t actually know what his degree was. All he seemed to do was throw parties. He talked about it like it was a full-time job.

After doing a bit of research myself, though, it turns out that UCSB is actually ranked as one of the best public universities in the U.S.

The obvious question will always be: is Harvard actually that hard?

Research Findings

The Frat Boy was actually a good guy. Annoyingly.

Because it would have been much easier if the Navy, the Catholicism, and the frat thing had all added up to a clear red flag. Instead, I was left with a perfectly nice man who just happened to have a suspicious amount of enthusiasm for parties he attended years ago.

The data is confusing. The spreadsheet is confused. I am confused.

And now I find myself facing a problem that, somehow, my extremely detailed dating tracker did not prepare me for: how do you tell someone you don’t want a third date when they have literally done nothing wrong?

I don’t dislike him. I actually enjoyed spending time with him. But somewhere between the frat stories and the demon voice, I realized I just wasn’t that into him.

So, dear reader: what’s the correct protocol here? Do I simply tell him that I don’t think there’s enough chemistry, like a normal person? Do I blame the spreadsheet? Do I create a new Google Form?

The research continues but, unfortunately, the spreadsheet cannot make this decision for me.