It’s one thing for a damsel in distress (not real distress) needing to be saved from an annoying creep at a bar and asking you to pose as her fake boyfriend.

(It might even be a good way to get said damsel’s phone number.)

But it’s quite another thing for a guy to come up to a girl at a bar and repeatedly complain about how his date is so annoying and can he get your phone number instead.


Sure! Please take my number! I’ve always dreamed of being left alone while my date goes and talks shit about me to other girls at the bar!

Really, does this really need to be said???

Don’t hit on another girl when you’re on a date.


Unfortunately, Rick didn’t get that memo.

It was a random weeknight and my friend Hillary and I went to play bar trivia at a bar/restaurant in the neighborhood.

I’ve long been a fan of bar trivia, both playing and actually hosting (see my Instagram feed) and I was excited about this game.

This particular game’s rules were that each time the host asked a question, we’d have to bring the answer up to him.

…Which ended up meaning that Rick had 18 attempts to talk to us on his way up to turn in his answer.

“So, what answer did you put?” he’d ask every time.

And every time, I’d scold him for cheating because I’M A TRIVIA HOST and I don’t want to be disqualified.


“I’m not cheating,” he said. “I don’t even know the answer, that girl on my team is writing them,” he said.

We looked over and saw a very nice-looking girl by herself at a booth.

“Is that your date?” I asked.

“Yea…but…” he started.

“You know how when you meet someone for the first time and they are just sooo annoying? And you just really don’t want to spend another second with them?”


We didn’t know how to respond.

“I mean…we’re only on the fourth question…” I said.

The entire night went on like that. Every time, Rick would come up to us and ask us the same question, “What answer did you put?”

Once time he even changed it up and asked if we wanted to move over to the booth and join their team.

“No, we’re just trying to have a girl’s night out here,” I said.

“But if we combine our answers, we’ll have more of a chance!” he said.

“No, thanks.”

Five seconds later: “So…what answer did you put?”


It finally got so blatant that his date actually came over to the bar stools where we were sitting.

“Rick!” she said. “Can you…come back here please?”

Then…OMG…he faced us and ROLLED HIS EYES behind her back before returning to the booth with her.


What a gentleman.

After his date had to physically grab his arm and steer him back to the booth, she got a clue and started turning in the answers herself. (I would have left the bar immediately).

I figured that would be the end of Rick bothering us, but no, he somehow managed to convince her to turn in the final answer himself and then came up to us to ask us if we wanted to meet him at another bar after the game.

“No, we have to go home,” I said.

Not one to take ANY sort of social cue, he responded with, “Well, can I get your number then?”





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