The bar for men in the dating world is often on the floor, but occasionally someone comes along and brings a shovel to dig a hole right underneath it. We all know that women have to navigate the world differently than men, especially at night. Safety is a constant calculation. So when a guy decides that saving three dollars in gas is more important than ensuring his date doesn’t get harassed or attacked on her way home, it is a special kind of red flag that needs to be seen to be believed.
Our narrator is a 26-year-old man who went on a date with “Lin,” a 24-year-old friend of a friend. Things started off well enough. They met at a restaurant near her, which meant he had to drive about thirty minutes. Lin walked to the restaurant to save money on gas, which honestly should have been a green flag for a guy worried about finances, but alas, irony is dead.
The date went great. They hit it off, talked for an hour, and even extended the date to go see a movie. It sounds like a success story in the making. But as the night wound down, the reality of the clock set in. It was late. It was dark. And Lin, who had walked there in the daylight, realized she wasn’t comfortable walking back home alone in the dark because, you know, she is a woman existing in public.
She asked her date for a ride. It wasn’t a road trip; she lived nearby. A normal human response would be, “Of course, hop in.” It is basic chivalry, but more importantly, it is basic safety. But our protagonist didn’t see a woman in need of safety. He saw a threat to his fuel gauge.
He declined. He told her he couldn’t do it. His internal reasoning? He didn’t want to “waste gas.” But the real kicker, the part that makes you want to throw your phone across the room, is that he felt like she was “just using me for my car.”
I need to pause and take a deep breath. You think a woman sat through dinner and a movie with you just to get a five-minute ride home in your sedan? That is a level of main character syndrome that is truly medically concerning. She wasn’t using you; she was asking the person she just spent four hours bonding with to ensure she didn’t get assaulted on her way home.
So, he left her there. She glared at him, accepted her fate, and walked home alone in the dark in a neighborhood where she specifically told him guys loiter at night. He drove home, presumably high-fiving himself for protecting his precious gas tank from the tyranny of a woman in need.
The next day, he had the nerve to ask if she made it home safe. Her response was chilling. She told him, “If you call getting catcalled safe, then yes I was safe!” And then she did the only logical thing: she blocked him.
But here is where the story goes from “clueless jerk” to “actual creep.” Instead of taking the hint and realizing he messed up, he made a second account to bypass her block and message her again. That is stalking behavior. He was “devastated” that it didn’t work out, but he still blamed her, claiming she could have just called an Uber if she was so scared.
So, is he the ahole? Yes. A massive, gas-hoarding ahole. He drove thirty minutes to see her but couldn’t drive five minutes to keep her safe? He prioritized a few milliliters of unleaded fuel over a woman’s safety. He doesn’t need a girlfriend; he needs a bicycle and a serious lesson in empathy.