The Catfish, the Cucumber, and the Grandma’s Basement: A Date I’ll Never Emotionally Recover From

Let me start by saying I’ve been on some strange dates… but this one? This one redefined rock bottom with Wi-Fi.

I met this guy online — let’s call him Derek. His pics? 6’2″, bearded, tattooed, kind of a rugged lumberjack vibe. Think Jason Momoa with slightly worse lighting.

We talked for two weeks. Good banter, dark humor, seemed emotionally intelligent. Even sent me pics of his “morning smoothie routine,” which I found both oddly specific and oddly hot.

We agreed to meet at a bar downtown. I arrive — he’s already there.

Except… that wasn’t Jason Momoa.

It was Jason Derulo if he had eaten Jason Momoa and washed it down with Monster Energy and regret. Same beard, but 15 years older and at least 100 pounds heavier — and not in the gym way, in the “my chair creaked when I sat down” way.

But I’m not shallow, right? Maybe he’s funny in person.

Wrong.

He opens with:

“You look way less filtered than your pics. I like that. Real skin is hot.”

Thank you? I think?

Then it got worse.

He orders a double shot of Fireball and tells me he lives in his grandma’s basement — but “not in a loser way.” (Is there another way?)

I ask what he does for work. He says:

“I flip things online… mostly used lingerie.”

No explanation. No follow-up. Just sips his Fireball like he just dropped stock advice.

When I go to the bathroom to regroup, I text my best friend:

“If I don’t make it, tell my cat I died bravely.”

I come back, and he’s holding his phone out to me, smiling.
It’s a photo of a cucumber.

A very… strategically placed cucumber.

He says:

“Just so you know what you’re missing if you ghost me.”

Y’all.

Not only did I ghost him… I also left cash on the table, power-walked to my car, blocked his number, AND deleted the app.

To this day, every time I walk by a cucumber in the grocery store, I flinch.