The Bartender and The Catfish

The memory of the bartender who I met in Operation ONS stuck out in my mind like a girl using proper grammar on her Tinder bio.  I signaled to my favorite town bouncer that the lothario stampede will be coming through in just a few short days:

Of course, I was being tongue in cheek, as my interest was not focused on any blonde slobs from the previous time, or any slobs for that matter, but rather the 24-year-old bartender who I gave my card to and didn’t hear from.  Of course, I knew it would not be so easy:

Figure 1: The Pounding Food Chain in the Service Industry

But how to get her?  A bartender by definition is used to having men throw themselves at them, so how do I stand out?  Fortunately, I learned some new information recently from an acquaintance that I shared with the ladies:

So, I’m all about assimilating new information into my approach, especially when it comes from a fellow lothario.  I also have an imagination inside my own bag of tricks, and I figured that it would benefit me if I had a pretty girl there to kick it to that she could see me with.  To the dating app I shall go:

So, I found a local girl on Bumble that seemed to be a good Guinea pig for the occasion.  I had a group of friends whom I was supposed to meet in Morristown, so my plan was to meet her somewhere close by and, if she met the criteria, have her accompany me up there.

But, funny thing, you can learn a lot about the person on text by their digital body language.  And I’m not using sales-speak, what I mean is that which is being communicated between the lines (the unspoken nuances of the exchange):

  1. A little more innuendo compared to the standard female, especially considering I hadn’t used any innuendo myself at this point.
  2. The texting ratio, i.e., notice how much I text vs. how much she texts.

I’m beginning to formulate ideas about who this girl is by this time.  I noticed more body language red flags:

I don’t know where twig come from, but I’m still hopeful about the outCUM:

Date night

I was beginning to verbalize my intuition to my friends that things with her were not adding up:


And sure enough, I was right.  A severe catfishing it was.  There would be no traveling to Morristown with this one:

I’m literally not joking about the hunchback, either.  Looking “back” on it, it all made perfect sense:

Ok, lesson learned, onto Morristown solo:

I get to the bar, my favorite bartender in tow, and I even run into an old friend:

Which I immediately turn into my advantage:

Ok, so not the way I drew the plans up, but end result just the same: The social proof was in the pudding.

To borrow a finance term, the bartender’s kind of like a growth stock.  No scoring tonight, just keep watering the plant.  Eventually the plant should grow.  And what do you do once it grows?

But, what’s the real lesson I learned here?

Now onto some other dating apps that we haven’t discussed yet: Facebook.


I’m a divorced dude living and dating in New Jersey. This blog is my story told through a first-person view of my text messages to my friends and/about my dates.