Jackson Free Press

"These old places are so rundown," my date said as he walked into my apartment. "I hope you don't pay much rent here."

This was my first date with Derek, and these words revealed that it would be our last. I already wanted to call it a night.

I'd met Derek at a club the week before, and he was cute and charming. After chatting with me for a while, he took my number. My friend Carol pulled me aside and hissed: "That's Mr. Lover Man, my neighbor who always brings random girls home. He makes a lot of noise," she said, making a face.

Derek had seemed like such a gentleman! I figured that he wouldn't call anyway. But he did, and I foolishly agreed to have dinner with him.

After disparaging my apartment the moment he arrived for our date, Derek took me to a tapas restaurant and talked about himself for two hours, ranting about politics and neglecting to ask me one question. I finally interjected that I should be getting home.

As he dropped me off, he said: "I really feel a connection between us. Let's do this again."

"To be honest, I'm not really feelin' it," I said. "But thanks for dinner."

"Well, that sucks," he replied. He sped off the moment I closed the car door.

Thanks for nothing, Mr. Lover Man.