There wasn’t chemistry. And that’s not just because my terrible date was a mathematician.

He seemed cool enough via text. Witty, considerate, engaging, smart. I cancelled a game of billiards to which he invited me to his roommate’s birthday party. Hmmm. Now, this could have gone one of two ways. It could have been a. awesome and a unique first date or b. a disaster, stuck in a room with not one but many strangers.

I decided to wait out the first date regardless, swayed from by indecision by a cozy blanket during stormaggedon with a so-bad-it’s-good rom com. A drink was planned for the following day.

I weathered the storm (literally) and my bubble umbrella and I marched down to a quaint Irish pub. He had just arrived after walking a couple blocks to grab cash when I walked in. I caught him still settling into a booth when we greeted each other with a hug. He had just set down his drink and I joked that I had $12 cash on me. He says: “Well that’s enough for two drinks. Did you go to an atm that dispenses cash in multiples of 6?”

To self: Clearly I’m buying my own drink here. Wait, was that a joke? 

As I’m standing at the bar with my cash in hand, Date comes up behind me, “I guess I can wait with you.” Gee, thanks. No really, you’re too kind.

The red flags continue, eyes and shoulders pointed at the bar, what were once witty one-liners took about eight verbal lines to get to the punchline, and he kept talking and ordered a drink long after I had already reached for my scarf and umbrella and announced I had to be on my way.

Not to mention, he had corrected me in a mathematical way (what did I expect, really) when I told him my friends hosted Wine Wednesday the first Wednesday of the month. “Sooo…wait, that should have been last week.” Well, it wasn’t, and Facebook later confirmed it’s the second Wednesday. But still – call me out, bro.

Just…bad. In the spirit of being a yes-woman, I’m glad I gave it a fair shot. I even ditched the rain boots for normal boots and threw on a little Irish-pub-appropriate lipstick.

I’m glad I went, don’t get me wrong. You never know and you can’t lose by giving it your best shot. It’s just a bummer sometimes to have that little doubtful voice be right. The one that instinctively knows it’s not adding up. Rain + instinct = buy your own beer.

I guess I went to solve the proof, to eliminate the mystery of the x-factor.

In sum, I’ll get to my equal, it just may take a few+ attempts at the whiteboard. One day, probably unknowingly, when that dry-erase marker is replaced by a permanent marker, that equation will be here to stay.