Mr. British Texter replied to an ad my friend wrote for me on Craigslist. I found it somewhat unsettling that he did not want to talk before the date. Our only communication consisted of two weeks of text messages.

I reasoned that his voice, with the British accent, could not be that bad. I fondly remembered my fascination with England – namely the David Beckham-type guys with accents back in college!

He had no ideas for our date, which he did not confirm until two hours before. I suggested Bryant Park’s Southwest Porch where I was meeting a client directly before.

Not long after arriving, I get an text message:

“I went to the wrong park. I am at one in the West Village.”

Is he kidding? I gave him the cross streets, and he has lived in NYC for a year!   

I kept myself occupied, waiting for the first 40 minutes, but I contemplated ditching him after his next text:

“Going to be a little later. There are no cabs. Taking the train.”

My date can not even hail a cab? That is virtually impossible in New York – except for New Year’s Eve.

I decided to head off to 5th Ave, while Mr British Texter is God-knows-where, commuting to me. I was in Barami buying a little black dress, when I received yet another text:

“I’m the guy with the blue shirt, shorts, and Starbucks cup sitting right in front of the lounge area.”

Now it’s your turn to wait.   

I replied back with: “I decided to venture to a nearby shop, will be there as soon as possible.”

Ten minutes later, I got another text: “Well, I’ve waited long enough to spill coffee on my shirt.”

After another 20 minutes, I finally meet Mr British Texter, the stereotypical scrawny Englishman with bad teeth.

Can this get any worse?

He asks if I want to go to Starbucks.

Apparently, it can.

You do not take a girl that looks this good to Starbucks on a Saturday night, buddy!   

I just wanted to get the date over with, so I agreed and we took our drinks back to the park.

Staring into space he said, “I was up until 5AM last night drinking. I never have a plan. I like to go with the flow.” He continued with, “I don’t particularly enjoy my job” and “Women in New York are all about money. I tell them I am a window washer when they ask what I do.”

Okay so he can crack a joke, but he seems miserable. And does this mean he’s cheap?

When it’s time for us to say goodbye, he got right in my face and flatly said, “Okay this was fun.”  Then just walked away.

Not even a hug?

Handshake?

Maybe it’s cultural.

Later that night, true to his form, he texts: “Yes, I like you – intelligent, funny, good company, very pretty, great smile, gorgeous eyes. Guess I am just wondering if you like me as much as I like you. There you go, now you know.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. British Texter really thought he stood a chance.

Why is it that some men religiously speak through text?

Is it the fact that it is less confronting? What do you think?

Text me below.

About Rachel Russo

Rachel Russo is 3six5dates' Ms. New York. She is a dating, relationship, & image coach for marriage-minded singles and couples. You can subscribe to Rachel's free weekly Labels & Love Newsletter and get her complimentary report: "7 Steps To Creating An Image To Attract The Love Of Your Life" at RachelRusso.com and StatusMakeover.com.

View all post by Rachel Russo