In no particular order, a list of this year’s memorable first dates, thus far.

The time he called 911.

I went to dinner with a nice young man one night at little hot spot in town.  I had a hearty meal and two glasses of wine.  We hung out talking and laughing until the place closed down and kicked us out.  He walked me to my car, and as we were chatting at my door, I suddenly passed out.  Like hard core, this bitch ain’t wakin’ up, passed out.  Apparently after shaking me a few times, my date panicked and called 911.  Several minutes later, I finally woke up on the asphalt, sick to my stomach, and vaguely aware of sirens nearby.  And this poor, poor guy bent over me, his face as white as a ghost,  his eyes huge.  <Gawd I hope I didn’t puke on his shoes.  Did I puke??  I feel sick.  And I think I had salmon for dinner…… fml.>  

From a speaker phone nearby I hear: “Is she awake? Ask her….blah blah…. don’t let her stand up! Blah blah….ambulance is almost there.”

“Nickie, are you ok?  You passed out.  But I still want to go on a second date!!” <OH.MY.GOD.  Really?? Did all of that just happen?”

  Just so you know, the paramedics helped me into the ambulance, took my vitals, asked me some questions and determined that I was perfectly fine.  Cool.  Not even an excuse for this level of embarrassment. Thanks guys.  And then I drove myself home.

The company party.

  I didn’t have a date for my company Christmas party.  So I found one on Tinder.  We met in the casino about 6 minutes before we walked in.  High risk = high reward, right? I figured it would be meh, or a complete disaster.  As luck would have it, he knew my coworker’s girlfriend and it was a surprising success.

The drag show.

I met this guy downtown for the only night that he was in town.  He was from Europe and wanted to check Reno out.  So I took him to the river walk and we had sushi on the patio.  It’s a great view and with great weather, a solid spot for first dates.  So when I asked what he would like to do after dinner, he said that he wanted to check out a place that had blues music.  ……well….there might be a spot that has something like that going on.

We walk a few blocks to the bar, and unfortunately it was the terrible, god-awful improv night.  NOPE.  Onward we went.  Walking past the gay bar, we heard some seriously loud music, whooping and hollering and a grand old party going on.  I couldn’t resist and said we needed to check it out.

Lo and behold!  An epic drag queen competition is underway!  “Wow, suddenly I feel right at home,” says my date.  Uh….ok….. I wonder if he knows he’s on a date with a woman….. oh god! Does my profile make me look like a tranny???  No no no.  Calm your shit down Nic.  He’s European…. who the fuck knows what he meant by that. 

This night was a BLAST!!  These queens dressed to kill and danced better than anyone at my sister’s dance recitals.  Like, by far.  You know the choreography in the 80’s movie Flash Dance?  Yea.  That’s what we had going on.  And naturally they were lip syncing to Britney and Madonna and Abba.  And my date!  Oh my god, what a good time he was.  He was not uncomfortable with anything going on in any way.  He cheered right along with the rest of us.  We drank way too much, we danced until early morning, and we even got ourselves a cute little rainbow key chain that kept a condom handy.  Pretty and practical!

Fight night in Fallon.

So there was a big boxing match going on in BFE Nevada one night.  I had matched with a man a few months back from this small town out in the middle of nowhere and asked him if he wanted to go.  I made ZERO promises. It was at the Fallon Fairgrounds, and for all I knew, there would be chickens running around a twine boxing ring. He was game.

HOLY SHIT was I wrong.  The ring was LEGIT.  It was outside, and we just bought the cheap bleacher seats.  The big guys were obnoxious and slow moving.  But the kids, yes the kids, were the little fighters.  Just forget the sadistic Roman-esque attitude of being entertained by minors beating each other to a pulp, get hammered and I’d say it was a mighty impressive evening.

The brothel.

I met a Canadian who was in town for a short work week.  We met up at a new tapas restaurant in midtown.  -Just a side note.  NEVER NEVER EVER go on a date to a tapas place unless you know FOR CERTAIN how the payment arrangements will be handled.  This was the third and final time I have made this mistake.  I order… maybe a grand total of $25-$30 worth of wine and appetizers.  HE, he will order over $100 worth of drinks and appetizers.  And when the bill comes, HE will only pay for half, because I assume that he can’t do math and didn’t budget for his idiocy.-

Anyway, lesson learned, and I let it go.  So date, what do you want to check out?  <You know what’s funny?  My friends keep teasing me that I should go see one of the brothels while I’m here.  I think that’s a terrible idea for a date, obviously.  But that’s all I can get out of them for suggestions.  What suggestions do you have?>

 Well, let’s go check out the Mustang Ranch. Why not?  I’ve actually never been out there.  OOOOOHHHH!  Wait a second.  That place is haunted.  There’s a whole movie about how it happened, called Love Ranch with Helen Mirren.  And she has an affair with a boxer, and her husband shoots him, and now he haunts the place!  It’s even been investigated on Ghost Adventures! FUCK YEA.  Let’s go. Right now.  I want a tour!

So we drive all the way out there.  We go in and ask one of the prostitutes for a tour.  She shows us the role-call room, the theme rooms, the jacuzzi, the doctor’s office, so on and so on.  I’M FUCKING BORED.  Can we see the haunted section? <Uh….no. It’s across the street and closed down.>


So my date wants to have a drink. Ok man, whatever.  Tonight has been a bust, let’s have a drink.  While we’re sitting there a young woman comes to our table and sits down.  For obvious reasons.  So I just tell her right up front, Hey, I’m only escorting an out-of-towner out here, no pun intended.  I’m not interested in anything.  Unless…. you can take me across the street to the haunted part of the brothel?  Eh? Eh?  <Sorry, I can’t do that……. so are you guys a couple?>

Nope. This a Tinder date.  If you ever want to see something funny, then wait until you see judgment pass across a hooker’s face.  That shit is hilarious.  Nothing interesting, AT ALL happened on this date.  I was super disappointed.