The Millionaire

Tuesday, May 17, 2022

Honestly, if you listened to my IG stories you might already have heard the story of the horrible date the was the Millionaire. We matched on Bumble the first day into my solo trip to Mexico, and I was hella ready to meet new people and have a good time. (Take this how you like.) But this my friends- was NOT a good time. 

Mr. Man was a millionaire who owned a few companies and properties in Mexico. Mr. Man was a Bitcoin miner before it became huge and made a fuck ton of money from it. Mr. Man made the very top of the list for quite notably, being the worst date I’ve ever been on. (I wasn't aware of his background and wealth until I actually met him)

I will not mention his name, actual age, or the exact crypto that he used for confidentiality reasons- but everything else is true.

Five minutes into meeting him, we sit down at a table under a speaker. He then asks if we can move tables so that he could hear himself. “I like to hear myself when I speak.” That’s when the red flags starting waving high af.

He starts telling me his life story and how he came to be how he came to be at 40 years old. Was there humility in his voice? I’m gonna go with no. “Everything I do is a success.” Confident. Cocky af. In essence, this would have sounded cute but it wasn't.

We meet at a Japanese restaurant in Mexico City's Roma Norte- my favorite neighborhood for it's lush scenery, beautiful streets, and great selection of restaurants, bars, and cafes. The menu- was 25 digital pages long. “Usually places like this suck because the longer the menu the worse it is, but this is actually alright.” Sir, if you live here and know all the good spots, THEN WHY SUGGEST THIS.

Apparently what I wanted to order- mapo tofu was an app. And ofc he had to make that known. So I felt bad and got a main instead- a poke bowl. He finished in minutes and I’m still trying to force myself to eat. No less force myself to get through this dinner...

He casually mentions how he meets girls to eat and fuck in his free time, “ but even that gets boring sometimes.” At this point, I wonder how the fuckkkkkkk did I get so lucky to end up meeting him that night. He was boring, spoke all about himself, and looked like a salty, refried pinto bean compared to his photos. I really regretted not grabbing dinner with my roommate and her friend. But I stayed for the sake of comedy- someone has to be the friend with the horrible dating stories. Unfortunately that’s me.

So remember the critical detail that man is a millionaire that “technically doesn’t need to work the rest of his life.” He starts mentioning how life in the states and in New York is expensive. Which, he isn’t wrong- it is. But it proves true for common people like me. Not crypto miners.

Once the bill comes, he already had his wallet out. And because of the money/wealth infused conversation, I’m ready to pay my half and respectfully leave. His gets the check and says “this is higher than usual.” I believe the check was $435 pesos- which when you convert to USD is the equivalent of $25. TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS. We ordered a miso soup, poke bowl, coke, a lemonade, and a sashimi platter. But all this for $25 was "higher than usual."

At this point- I’m baffled. I was solely here to be young, cute, apparently stroke his ego, and ask engaging questions about his work and current lifestyle. I was an actress. A prop.

He then mentions being tired- an easy escape. But then says we should walk around. I haven’t been to that part of town & all the locals recommended it- so I actually wanted to. Plus, I was curious to how much worse this walk was going to be (And at the time, this was my first time going to Roma Norte; I went every single day after that.)

On this walk, I see a dog, and mention I have a dog. He says he’s more a cat person. I cannot be, because I’m highly allergic ( esophagus closes & I get incredibly itchy.) He then says, “you aren’t allergic to cats. You are allergic to cat spit.” Because apparently cats lick themselves with their spit , and then that hair is what you breathe which causes the allergies. At this point , I’m not even gonna question this. You are right, you are the millionaire after all.

He then says we’re gonna walk to a popular street. We actually never made it. On some random corner he then says “do you want to hang out?” I’m sorry, wtf were we doing this entire time? I pull the tired card, grab an Uber, and go back to my hostel to drink and do karaoke with a bunch of strangers. And that my friends- is how you recuperate the night. Ending it with a disco classic on a rooftop , wearing a sombrero bigger than you, with a margarita in hand that tasted like a Capri Sun.

So note to self, do not go on dates with Americans while overseas. Do not go on dates with men over 35. And don't go on dates with guys that have Tech listed in their bios.

After the Millionaire, I had one of my favorite dates to date- but that story, I might just keep to myself.

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