Not every date is a home run. Actually, most of the ones I’ve been on have been fairly mediocre. A few months ago, I was bored and in a dating lull, so I messaged a guy I had talked to before but stopped messaging because I was not all that interested in him. He looked kind of greasy in his pictures, and his teeth were a little too yellow for my liking. He seemed nerdy in a not-so-endearing way, too. I don’t mean that negatively — because I am a bit of a nerd and would need a guy to mirror that. What I mean in this context is that he seems like his mom might have written his name on the inside of his underwear. Recently.

But if you know me, you’ll know I hate being bored. So I reached out to this guy — we’ll call him Brandon — to rekindle our conversation. Now, he had first messaged me in November, and I didn’t respond until January. Needless to say, the conversation was pretty stale. He asked me boring questions about school and what I did for New Year’s Eve (the answer: had sex with a guy from OkCupid). We were only a 75 percent match, which is a lot lower than what I usually respond to, so that should have been a warning right away that we wouldn’t really hit it off. Nevertheless, I persisted.

We messaged each other a few times one day, and he eventually asked me to get coffee with him. After I was done gagging at how lame his idea of a date was, I agreed because why not? He said he would make the trip to Evanston, so I really had nothing to lose except for some of my time. Little did I know how much strife I would have to endure.

I suggested we meet at J.J. Java at 3 p.m. because I knew no one would be there; thus, there was a slim chance someone I know would walk in and see me on a date with Greasy Brandon. I arrived almost an hour early because I was bored and had nothing better to do than read and drink coffee by myself. Once Brandon arrived, I knew I had made a horrible mistake. On a physical level, I was not at all attracted to him. He was wearing a heinous shirt featuring large horizontal stripes and some god-awful mustard pants. Also, he was just as greasy-looking in person which, at 26 years old, is highly unacceptable.

It wasn’t until he started talking, however, that I really wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He laughed way too much and made incredibly awkward and weird comments and jokes. One in particular that stood out had something to do with farting. I couldn’t even believe this guy was seriously talking about anything to do with bowel movements on a first date. Even worse, I had never mentioned an end time for the date, so it dragged on for two and a half hours, at which point I said that my friends were wondering where I was and that I should go meet them for dinner.

Luckily, he left with only a hug goodbye. If he had tried to kiss me, I have no idea what I would have done other than attempt to dodge it before darting in the opposite direction. I was left with no doubt why he was single. He was awkward, boring and not very attractive.

I thought I’d heard the last of Greasy Brandon, but alas, the very next day he texted me. I didn’t respond, so he thought it wise to text me once more. At this point I considered just being honest and saying I didn’t feel a connection, but again I ignored him. The funny part happened the next day, when he texted me saying only “No?” followed by (after I didn’t respond) “Thanks …”

And then he was truly gone from my life. I do feel kind of bad that I never at least explained that I wasn’t interested, but I also didn’t really owe him anything. Plus, his passive-aggressive texts were weird and unwarranted, so I clearly dodged a bullet with this guy. All in all, this was one of the most boring and awkward dates I’ve been on. But I think you all know me well enough by now to know my motto: Do it for the story.