I matched with Jonathan, a British advertising executive, on Bumble. Being that the ladies have to initiate conversation on this app in particular, I inquired as to what brought him to the states. After exchanging some more introductory information he invited me to meet for brunch in Williamsburg one frigid Saturday afternoon.
After feasting on a ham and brie omelette and eggs Benedict accompanied by several flutes of mimosas, we seemed to be rather enjoying each other’s company and opted to extend our brunch date with some cocktails at a bistro around the corner for some Moscow mules.
Despite offering to split the bill for brunch, Jonathan insisted it was his treat.
I graciously accepted and insisted upon picking up the tab at the following establishment.
Before I knew it Jonathan and I had spent the better part of the day doing a mini bar crawl around some of the lovely watering holes that Brooklyn had to offer and I was already looking forward to seeing him again.
When it was apparent that I had reached the threshold of my alcohol intake for the evening, I told Jonathan that it was about time I called it a night and retreated back to my apartment in Queens.
Jonathan was seemingly miffed that he did not receive an invitation to join me, and suddenly his demeanor shifted from a sweet, gentlemanly English boy to a sarcastic, entitled imbecile.
Sitting on our barstools facing each other, Jonathan reached over, cupped his hand around my breast and gave it a quick but firm squeeze.
Astounded as to why he would take the liberty to do such a thing I reprimanded him immediately.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!?” I shouted. “You cannot just touch people like that. Are you out of your damn mind?”
“Oh chill out,” he said with a shit-eating smirk on his face.
“That is not OK. You need to apologize. You can’t just grab women’s tits like that whenever you want. It’s really disturbing that you think something like that is acceptable.”
“Stop being so crazy. You need to calm down.”
With that, he closed his tab and fled the bar.
As I was still sitting on my barstool waiting for my Uber to arrive Jonathan returned to the bar and once again told me that I was overreacting and how he didn’t want to end a wonderful day on such a negative note.
“Are you going to apologize for grabbing my chest like that?” I asked.
“Seriously? Can you please just stop making a big deal out of this? You’re being so fucking ridiculous.”
With that I fled the establishment to be rescued by my Uber driver.
Shortly after I received a number of hostile texts informing me that I should ‘fuck myself,’ and that the entire day was a waste of his time and money.
Oh, and he wanted me to venmo him for half of the money he spent on lunch AND the bar tab…which was not happening.