I Blame The Sangaritas

So, as most of you know, I accidentally reactivated my Plenty of Fish account and went on a date last Monday. In the spirit of teachable moments, here is what I learned:

If you’re going on your first first date in nearly three years, you should not—I repeat, DO NOT—order a Sagarita. I’m still not entirely sure what a Sagarita is but it involved triple sec, wine, rum and tequila.

If you’re a moron and do end up ordering a Sangarita, don’t order a second. No matter how pretty it is.


And if you’re stupid enough to order a second, for goodness sakes, stick to one deadly cocktail and don’t go switching to wine, then cider and finally back again.


Well, for starters, it’s not a good idea to get drunk in public. Especially on a date. Especially a first date with a man you met on the internet.

But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that you might find yourself out with a nice guy, and at some point in the evening he might lean over and say, “I don’t get it. You’re so pretty, and smart, and you have a great sense of humor. What happened between you and your ex?”

Because when this happens, you will take a deep breath and think, “Why yes, I can answer this. It’s been 3 months and I am totally, 100% fine.” But then, as you try to find the words to explain how the longest and possibly greatest relationship of your LIFE fell apart, your eyes will start to well up.

You’ll stare up at the ceiling, trying to compose yourself.

Your date will say, “It’s okay. Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

And even though ever fiber of your being will be screaming “ABORT! Abort mission NOW!!!” the words will come tumbling out and before you know it, you’ll be crying, in a bar (a fancy bar in Center City, no less), repeating more or less the entire break up conversation verbatim, right on down to the inevitable, “He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with me!!!!”

You will forget, of course, that you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life with him either. You will forget that you wanted to end the relationship last summer and that you really do believe you’re better off without him. These things won’t matter, because it’s just the wine talking now (well, the wine, the tequila, the triple sec, the rum and the cider)… which is why Sangaritas are to be avoided at all costs.

10 Responses to “I Blame The Sangaritas”

  1. becky119

    Maybe you should just get a box-o-sangria (in my opinion it’s delicious and like $13??) and wait until you get home? It would probably be a good idea to practice a speech about what went wrong in the mirror. Just keep it simple. Like “We wanted different things – I’ll forever be a city girl and just couldn’t picture the rest of my life in the suburbs. Plus we so rarely went dancing…” 😉

    You’ll get there. Maybe instead of wine you should take up other recreational activities before a date…you’ll just be a little giggly.

  2. xclampa

    agree there with becky119 – good to have a quick reply ready. helps with the emotional turmoil and with steering the conversation away from such topics.
    🙂 also been there, done that. glad you got that one – crying and spilling the beans on a post-break-up date – out of your system. there’s probably a list of post break-up situations you go through somewhere. one situation, one day at a time, you’ll get to the end of it, I’m sure 🙂

  3. Khai

    Oh… oh yes, you definitely need a drunk text friend on speed dial. Oh dear. Ohhhh dear.

    Also, water between drinks might be a good idea 😉

    • Kat Richter

      I had SO MUCH water! I probably drank five or six glasses and kept having to run to the bathroom like every five minutes. The real issue is that we didn’t actually order any food, except for one empanada which we split and the date lasted about 6 hours…

      • Khai

        Oh, yes, that’ll do it too. I still volunteer to send you my phone number and let you text me when you’re feeling the need, haha.

        Anyway. I hope you feel better getting this terrible cry-through-a-date-post-breakup thing out of the way. I’m lucky in that the last time I went through a traumatic break, one of my friends with whom I would NEVER have a romantic attraction dragged me out to a bar, got me drunk, and made me cry over my breakup.

        Same thing. Just has to happen, I think. It’s like a rite of passage.


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