Taco Boy And The First Circle Of Dating Hell

My friend chose the name Taco Boy for the guy who sent me a picture of his lunch plate the day we had what we called a “text date.” Also, this was during a time when I needed to choose memorable nicknames for the guys I was considering dating. Our text date was just him sending me a bunch of pictures of whatever he was doing that day at work so we could pretend to be doing it together.

To our first real date, I wore jeans and peep toe wedges. A little bit of a heel makes me walk more daintily so I’m not just plodding on the concrete like a charging rhino.  And I didn’t want to scare the guy by not looking my best as we met in person for the first time, though the thought of it was ironic considering that I should have been scared of him, Taco Boy from Craigslist.

Oh yes, you heard me right. No wait, don’t go! I assure you, I learned my lesson.

I had placed an intelligently-written ad a very long time ago and used a “dummy” email address to sort through the responses without immediately revealing my identity.

That’s a tip I recommend, by the way. Do a Google search on a freshly-created email address and you won’t find much.

His messages stood out from all the others because they were charming and full of my kind of dry, sarcastic humor. And in usual cyber dating fashion, we upgrade to Yahoo Messenger (gross) and then to text messaging.

What surprised me most was the night he called to talk while he was on his way home. It had been a really long time since a guy called me to actually talk on the phone before meeting.

Looking back, I realize now that I missed a clue that he wasn’t being totally legit. He spoke to me only for as long as he was driving home and pulling into his carport. Then we hung up because he said he didn’t have good enough reception once inside his place.


We went to BJ’s on our first date which I don’t think is an ideal location because it’s more of a Happy Hour With Coworkers kind of place.

While we waited for a table, I took a few mental notes on his appearance. I noticed his bright blue eyes and the chest hair popping out above the collar of his black t-shirt. He had a bit of a belly, which I liked, and a slight Chicago accent. Then I wondered if guys from Chicago get tired of Los Angeles girls saying they like their accents. I’ve been told I have one as well, but I imagine it’s a cross between East L.A. high school student and hillbilly, and not a cool-sounding one like his which makes the word Scotch sound like SKAAATCH.

We ordered drinks instead of dinner. I had margaritas while he ordered iced tea accompanied by shots of tequila. How could I have missed the symbolism? He never mixed his drinks. He was careful with the tequila, only savoring occasional sips chased by generous chugs of the tea. He talked about how horrible it is to date girls in L.A. because of their superficiality. I raised an eyebrow at every other complaint about money hungry women and assured him that he was meeting women in all the wrong places. After all, there I was keeping him company on a Friday night and I’m full of heart and soul, so obviously not every L.A. woman is a jerk.

We ended the night with a PG-13 make out audition in my car. We wanted to be sure that we would care to see each other again, which we did.

I met up with him at Chipotle where he bought us lunch. I then accompanied him to the dog park. We sat together on a bench while his chubby Chihuahua played nice with the other pups. We talked about how much he wanted to do touristy California things like go wine tasting and learn to surf.

We walked back to our cars and he kissed me lightly on the lips.

Later I learned that I had entered the First Circle of Dating Hell and my first indication of this was that days had gone by and Taco Boy didn’t respond to the one email I sent after our second date. I don’t even remember if I wrote one more time after that, but it doesn’t matter because I didn’t get a response from him at all, not even to say, “Look girl, we done.” Our brief little fling had entered a state of limbo. There was no clear answer as to what the heck even happened at the end of it all, so my friends and I came up with a few possibilities:

Maybe he had a girlfriend the whole time.

He sounds like a wussy.

He took you to Chipotle?


Featured Image via SpeakSpanishEverday