Back in 2007, I gave OKCupid a try and matched with a guy who seemed promising. We’d been chatting on AIM for weeks, and I finally asked if he wanted to see a horror movie—One Missed Call. He agreed and asked me to pick him up “around the corner from his house,” which felt odd, but I didn’t question it. At the theater, I realized I’d left my phone in the car. We bought our own tickets and drinks, and everything seemed fine. But before the previews even started, he was texting, making strange faces, and then said he needed the bathroom.
He never came back. I waited through the trailers, then part of the movie, growing more confused and embarrassed by the minute. Eventually, I flagged down an usher to check the bathroom. It was empty. I walked back to my car, hoping maybe he’d left a message. Sure enough, there were texts saying his father was in the hospital and he had to leave immediately. I felt stunned, concerned, and a little guilty for not noticing something was wrong. But something didn’t sit right. The whole thing felt off.
Later that night, I saw him online and asked how things were. He casually replied, “Yeah, my cousin’s fine.” I asked about his dad, and after a few awkward exchanges, he admitted the truth. His girlfriend had come home early, and his dad had picked him up from the theater to avoid getting caught. I sat there staring at the screen, equal parts furious and dumbfounded. He’d used a fake emergency to ditch me mid-date—and dragged his dad into it. That was the last time we spoke.
I replayed the night in my head, wondering what signs I missed. The vague pickup spot, the texting, the sudden exit. I’d gone in hoping for a fun night and maybe a connection. Instead, I got ghosted in real time. It wasn’t just the lie—it was the cowardice. He couldn’t even own up to it until I pressed. And the worst part? He didn’t seem sorry. Just inconvenienced. I learned a lot that night—not about dating, but about dodging red flags.
Since then, I’ve been more cautious. I trust my gut, ask more questions, and never leave my phone in the car. That experience didn’t ruin dating for me, but it did sharpen my instincts. I’ve had better dates, worse ones too, but none quite as bizarre. It’s wild how one night at the movies can turn into a cautionary tale. And while I never saw One Missed Call again, I definitely got the message loud and clear.
So here’s to the dates that go sideways, the lies that unravel, and the lessons we carry forward. To the girl who waited in the theater, and the guy who couldn’t face honesty. And to the reminder that sometimes, the scariest part of a horror movie night isn’t the film—it’s the person sitting next to you.
