The Time Renaissance Ronald Got Shittier Than a Big Mac

You read about the menu fuckers – the good, the bad, and the ugly (some good, most bad, none ugly #officiallysuperficial).  But just as your strawberry, summer squash salad with blue cheese crumbles, those bitches were seasonal and have since been replaced with watermelon gazpacho and vegan crème brûlée. 

Wait tho! What actually happened to them?

Let me do a little episode recap on my loves lost (Err, thrown away. Same diff.), starting with my former fave: Renaissance Ronald

Renaissance Recap: From da Vinci to DeVito

Renaissance Ronald earned his name on our first date when I learned he was an artist-engineer hybrid, former cellist from New York, and foodie who knew his wine. Renaissance Ronald was a beautiful man – think Brawny; he had a strong jawline, a burly body, and a full head of hair (In your late 20s, you have to start worrying about shit like the hairline and hair density of your dates. As if doing your taxes and finally paying your own phone bill weren’t enough.).

RR was not just easy-on-the-eyes but sweet, dorky, and conversational as well. I couldn’t understand why he only had a 4.37 Uber rating.


So, how did we go from Brawny babe to Ronald McDonald?

Date #1: Anything You Can Do, Renaissance Ronald Can Do Better

Renaissance Ronald met me at a chic, cozy wine bar in the SF Mission district. He was 10 minutes late but quickly made up for it with his charming awkwardness and crooked, nervous smile. We chatted and pretended to be adults with our fancy wine drinks. After 45 minutes of testing the limits of small talk and sobriety, the wine bar began social cue-ing everyone to GTFO.

RR and I agree to grab some grub, even though it was coming up on the later portion of the night (for a Tuesday, anyway #drakevibes). On our way out, however, the bar owners busted out a guitar and started ripping some tunes. RR, who hadn’t yet exhausted demonstrating his talents, stepped in and asked,“May I?” The bartender passed it down, and RR went to town.

And there I stood, watching the hot Brawny engineer, artist, musician, rockstar shred on them strings like nobody’s business. Tinder treasures, I tell you. Tinder treasures.

After six minutes of wooing the world, RR grew tired of showing off and dropped the mic. The two of us subsequently began strolling the streets of San Francisco.


The first few restaurants we passed were closed. It wasn’t until we reached a bar-restaurant that we stumbled upon any luck. Unfortunately, luck was fleeting; RR didn’t have his ID, and the bouncer wouldn’t budge when RR tried to argue the legality of his temporary, photo-less, paper ID.

Renaissance Ronald seemed oddly heated over this debate but eventually got frustrated and gave up; so, we continued on our hunt for foodz.

As we moved through the night, I got lost in my head reflecting on RR’s borderline aggro moment with the bouncer, but before I had the chance to go too deep, he interrupted my thoughts to announce he had figured out where we were going.


Renaissance Ronald directed me to a hipster-bougie spot. We ordered watermelon capresse salad, rare steak, and squab. Because I was a broke ass contractor, ignorant to the world of high-class pigeon meats – I didn’t know wtf squab was (It was dope, btw.). #squabs4snobs #pinkyup

We had more wine.

In total, we must have blown $150 on food (and 0.15 on the breathalyzer).

Once RR paid for our 10PM, $150, impromptu dinner, he asked if I’d like to see his “art installation.”  With a heart full of wine and a stomach full of squab, I said, “Yes.”


Renaissance Ronald’s place was littered in pretty lights. He gave me a tour of his apartment-studio, and as he exhibited the ways in which his light art responded to the environment, he leaned in to kiss me.

End Scene

And no, we didn’t bang.

Date #2: Eggplant Fail 🍆🍆🍆

Almost a month after Date #1 (time gaps are pretty standard for tech Tinderers), RR and I embarked on a second outing. We met at a five-star restaurant somewhere near DNA Lounge. This time we had heirloom tomato salad, warmed peaches, and game hen – but didn’t stray away from wine.

I got a little crunk off Cava, so when RR invited me back to his lair for a second go, I accepted.


Back at the cave of lights RR presented me with a glorious eggplant Parmesan, which with much disappointment I had to decline. The man who could do everything couldn’t think ahead to provide protection.

“Sorry, I don’t have sex a lot!” Pretty sure that was a lie.

**FYI dudes out here really DGAF condoms. Either I  deceptively exude a persona of innocence, or Silicon Valley is even sleazier than I thought. 

Once we got over the sexless finish to our second date, I spent the night in his white sheets and went to work the next day in the same clothes. Thank god for gaudy work gift shops! #newcompanyshirtwhodis

End scene. 

Date #3: Third Time’s the Alarm

A few weeks later, Renaissance Ronald texted me, “You busy tonight? I got tickets to Rufus Du Sol.” I honestly didn’t know who or what Rufus was, but since I had already turned down Chromeo and Lauryn Hill offers from other techbros, I decided it was time to stop denying free entertainment.


Just as with Date #1, RR was late to Date #3 – like really late.

Originally he planned for me to meet him at his studio around 8PM, but he kept postponing.

At this point in my blog journey, I was really into character and knew I was dating for the story. If anything, a late date was a great excuse to talk shit. Plus, I was at a friend’s house making sushi dinner. A delay meant more sushi for me, and as I’ve mentioned before: I love food.


Around 10PM, RR was finally ready to get going, claiming  he “got caught up with work” – even though it was a Friday night.

Rufus was supposed to go on at 9PM, and the venue was all the way in Oakland. For those of you non-SF natives – going from San Francisco to Oakland is a fucking commitment and is rarely executed. People love the idea of going to First Fridays (an art event every first Friday in Oakland) but few end up making the journey.

Because it was now too late for me to go to his place, he brought the Uber to me, and we left together.


During the ride RR got a little terse with the Uber driver, who failed to understand what RR meant by, “Can I play my music?” and instead turned on the radio. “Ugh. That’s not what I meant. Just turn that off,” Ronald grumbled exhaustively. #yikes

Dates #1 and #2 may have been full of fun conversation and foodie delights with only a sprinkle of questionable behaviors, but Date #3 was a pin cushion of red flags.


The 4.37 Uber rating was beginning to make a lot of sense.


It was 11:30PM when we arrived.

We went through the normal motions of getting into a concert. I showed security my purse, blah blah blah. It was RR’s turn to pass through security, however, we hit a bit of a snag when one of the security guards pulled two pills from his pocket . . .

* * *

Security: “Sir, we’re going to have to take these.”
Renaissance Ronald: *Flashes a condescending, contemptuous side-smile and holds out his hand* “Excuse me. Those are mine.”
Security: “You can’t take pills into the concert.”
Renaissance Ronald: “Those are my prescription pills! I hurt my leg and need my prescription medicine.”
Security: “Sorry, sir, you can’t bring unmarked pills to the show.”
Renaissance Ronald: *Going into full aggro mode* “This is fucking ridiculous. Those are MINE!”
Security: *To other guard* “Call for backup.”
Renaissance Ronald: *Oblivious to the call for backup* “I can’t fucking believe this. I want to speak to a manager. I don’t even want to go to the fucking show anymore!”
Me: *Turns to security to perform my best, “Holy shit, I’m so sorry” face*
Renaissance Ronald: “Okay, whatever.” *Gives up and makes his way in just before security decided he had to be thrown out*

(This went on for at least five minutes. The conversation was so repetitive with “fuck this” and “I can’t fucking believe this,” that I can’t even remember everything.)

* * *

Once RR succumbed to his pill-less fate, we walked through the entrance doors.

I had so many questions.

What pills did he have?
Why didn’t he share – or tell me he was planning to get high?
Why did he leave them blatantly exposed in his pockets?
Hadn’t he ever even been to a concert with security?
Doesn’t he know you’re supposed to hide your shit?

It took me a while to get over my shock, but the moment I did, everything became clear. Renaissance Ronald suffered from a serious case of: Entitled White Guy Syndrome – an epidemic in Silicon Valley.


What I thought would be breezy entrance turned out to be the most embarrassing ordeal I had ever experienced on a date, but it was god damn, blog gold.

We made our way into the crowd and found ourselves at the bar. RR ordered his first drink of the night and turned to me, “That was fucking ridiculous. The irony is, they took my Adderall and Vicodin, but they left my weed pen.” He then whipped out a vape pen and took a fat hit – without offering me any, btw. #rude #pillmysterysolved #newBEDxquote

Although we were only at the show for an hour and a half – tops (counting the security stand-off) – Renaissance Ronald ordered three drinks.

Now that I knew which pills he was attempting to smuggle in, I had even more questions to add.

Why did he make a huge deal about Adderall and Vicodin? We were only going to be away from his place for two to three hours.
Do you REALLY need ADHD medication for a one-hour concert?
Would he have still ordered so many drinks had he not gotten his pills confiscated?
Does he have extra Vicodin?


For the remainder of the concert, I just went with the flow. If you’re not looking for a fairytale ending, you don’t get too disappointed when your date goes from Prince Charming on a white steed to the Headless Horseman from Sleepy Hollow.

Iceraichabodmrtoad5626.jpg(image cred)

Life is a lot more enjoyable when you simply accept the crazy shit and let go of your expectations. You can’t control most situations, but you can control your reaction. #enlightenment&chill #buddhistAF

At the end of the show, Renaissance Ronald and I shared an Uber back to the city.

This time when he invited me back to his place, I declined. 

Final Thoughts

So, what’s the moral?


Listen to your moms: If it seems too good to be true, then it probably is. Just like microwaves. #fastbutcancer #itsatrap

6 thoughts on “The Time Renaissance Ronald Got Shittier Than a Big Mac”

    1. He was your favorite too! I remember you commenting that a while back. BTW is your blog private now? What happened?

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