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The first red flag should’ve been his love for Kanye. I overlooked that for artistic taste; after all, I still treasure 2010-2012 Justin Bieber era. We had drinks at a sports bar, one that he took another Tinder date to days before. I know this because he told me. We ordered each other our favorite drinks: mine was a gin and tonic with a lime, and his a Jameson Ginger. We were on the topic of exes, dangerous territory for a first date. He shared that he cheated on his last girlfriend. Stunned, I left the table to sob in a bathroom stall. The ambience of the date was unrecoverable, but I was drunk and optimistic. As we were making out in his car, he slipped his hand around my throat, ready to choke me. I laughed it off and told him I wasn’t really into that. He then put my hand around his throat, closing my fingers around the sides. I snatched my hand away, reinforcing that I didn’t like that. He shrugged it off and asked for a blow job instead. It’s been 2 months, and I still haven’t went on another date!