I have said in a previous entry that I have never been on a full blown adult date before. A date without all the pressure of knowing whether or not this person and I will be walking down the aisle in the foreseeable future. I have literally had a guy tell me on the first “date” that he had a three date rule. This isn’t a commitment-phobe kind of thing that prevents a seemingly normal human being from exploring their romantic options with a female counterpart. This is a, “If I don’t think I can marry you by the third day, I’m ditching you” kind of thing. I know, I should have gone running for the hills when I heard this, but I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt that (1) he didn’t mean it as severely as it sounded and (2) he surely wasn’t going to stick like glue to this rule as things unfolded between us. The short of it was… I was wrong.
That being said, just because I haven’t been on a normal date, doesn’t mean I haven’t been on pathetic excuses of or sad attempts at… Yeah, I can’t call them dates, because they were more like disasters, train wrecks, fails of epic proportions. One person in particular comes to mind. One person who still gives comic relief to many of my close friends when I recount the tragedy that was our courtship. He was literally a character right out of a novel; and what was even more hilarious about it, is that he had absolutely no self-awareness. His awkward, at times painful antics where lost on him. He was blissfully unaware of his own cringe worthy behavior. How is this possible? I shutter to this day when I think of some of things he’s said and done.
Here are the three dates from Hell:
We had been set up through a mutual friend, who was coaxing him to pursue me after making a rather obvious comment about wanting to date a dark Hispanic girl. The reason this is obvious is because I live in the Midwest and it seems I am breed of my own here. He invited me to lunch, to which I said yes. I had been crushing on him from a distance for quite some time, but he was a mystery to me. I was about to find out that some mysteries needed to remain unsolved.
He came to my job and had a menu in his hand from a small restaurant across the street. Random that he felt the need to bring the menu to me, as if I wouldn’t see it when we got there, but no biggie. I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t a bit disappointed that he didn’t take me out of the five mile radius of my workplace and I quickly realized why. He didn’t have a plan. He came with no clue where we were going, so he just saw the place and figured, “why not?” For all he knew they could’ve serve fried cat livers, but he wasn’t going to sweat the details. When we got there we found a small table in the back and sat down. The place was the size of shack and could only fit two tables in their dining area, so we were real up close and personal with our neighbors. Not the most ideal place for intimate conversations. He spent the next hour of my lunch talking and asking questions. He was a bit chattier than I expected, but it was still an equatable back and forth. When we were done, he picked up the check and walked me back to my job. Now, at the time I was in a predominantly male work situation, so they thought it would be funny to blast BoysIIMen from inside the shop. Eventually we went inside, so I could give him a tour. I worked for a boutique guitar pedal company that a lot of people wanted to check out, but was closed to the public, so I had the in. From the front of the shop to the back, where they were building a studio, he had taken off his outer shirt, “Superman Style” as he referred to it. So, after he left there was much speculation about what happened in the back room to cause his shirt to magically come off his body. I had no explanation other than what he said, which was that he was hot. Was he trying to make a move? Why would he think that was a good idea on the first date? or at my job for that matter? And Dear Jesus, if that was his attempt at a move… What? Why?
We made plans to go out again on a group date to a movie. Before then we found ourselves at the same event, so we talked… or rather, he talked. I don’t remember most of what was said, but I do remember one thing because it was bizarre and panic-inducing. He mentioned how much he loved dressing up for Halloween, he loved dressing up period. Mind you, he was 25 years old at the time. He started to tell me about what he wanted to dress up as that year and suddenly a spark of excitement caught in his voice as he started including me in his plans. First off, Halloween was months away. Secondly, we were not in a relationship. We hadn’t even had our second date. Lastly, was he on crack?! He wanted me to dress up as Gwen Stacy, so he could be Spiderman. Have you seen me? I am not white; and there is no way in hell a blonde wig would look good on me. Not to mention, Gwen Stacy doesn’t really have a distinguishing look to her for a costume, which I mentioned. To which he replied that I could just wear a short skirt and thigh high stockings, like she did in the first movie. Excuse me? Conversation over.
I mentioned to him that I genuinely wasn’t feeling well that day, to which he glazed over with an “Aww… that sucks” comment and kept talking about how excited he was to see this new Bourne movie. He dropped a bomb on me in that conversation as well, telling me he was going to dress up as Jason Bourne for the movie. What does that mean? I didn’t worry too much about it because I figured it meant jeans, a T-shirt and maybe a leather jacket, possibly a big orange knit sweater. All things that weren’t causes for alarm. I ended up medicating myself, so I could get through the night. I had begged my roommate, at the time, to go with me. Assuring her it would be a good time. When we showed up I was immediately mortified. He had invited his friend and his friend’s girlfriend and conveniently forgot to tell me. Does he know the definition of a group date? Apparently not, because that was not what this was. This was a double date; and my single female friend was the fifth wheel. I was horrified for her and must have apologized a million times in the first few minutes, but she took it like a champ and plowed through.
The second reason I was mortified was because I quickly became acquainted with my date’s definition of “dressing up like Jason Bourne”. A pair of cargo shorts, that were as longs as capris and cut him off mid calf, which made his already short stature look dwarfed. A cut off, muscle shirt that you play basketball in and sharpie pen. The sharpie pen he used to right Bourne on one arm, in huge block letters, and Legacy on the other. Shoot me now! My roommate and I exchanged looks and I knew we would be talking about this later; but it doesn’t end there folks.
We get to the movie and he orders nachos with tons of Jalapeños on it. The perfect food for close whispering in a movie theater. The best part of it was when he spilled the juice from the Jalapeños all over his crotch during the beginning of the movie. The smell wafting up and smacking me in the face periodically throughout the film. Then there was the excessive, not-so-subtle adjusting he did to himself the whole night. It was as if he suffered from uncontrollable ball sweat or he didn’t bathe. After the movie was over and we were walking back to the parking garage he decided to slide down a hand railing on his stomach and then lift his entire body off of the escalator, checking out his arms as they flexed under the weight. Teenagers walking around us were embarrassed for this grown ass man acting like this. I could not wait for the night to be over.
Third and Final Date
I reluctantly agreed to going out one more time with this guy. I really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his extreme extrovertedness was seriously clashing with my introvert. He was constantly bouncing off the walls. It was nothing like I had ever seen; and I couldn’t get a word in edge wise. On the off chance that he took a breath and would allow me to speak, he would almost immediately interrupt whatever I was saying to tell me something that I had just reminded him of. But he didn’t just tell me, he would show me. He would get up wherever we were at and act it out for me, as if I wouldn’t get it without the visuals.
I tried to do some preemptive damage control on this date, telling him that I was in a calm and contemplative mood. In other words, calm the hell down and just be normal. He said he understood, but as the night went on I would have to strongly disagree with that statement. We went to get some ice cream. Now, I told him that we were just two people getting to know each other and though I appreciated him paying for me on these dates, it wasn’t something I expected. With that, I also said that if he wanted to go out and he wanted to go dutch, to let me know ahead of time. This is to avoid that whole awkward and unnecessary moment when the check comes and no one reaches for it. Well, we got to the register and the girl asked if we were together. I looked at him and he was in la-la land, but he didn’t protest, so I said yes. Then she gave me the total and I looked at him again and he didn’t even flinch. No movement at all to reach for his wallet, so I pulled out my card and paid. O HELL NO!!! this trifling man did not just trick me into paying for his ice cream when he asked me out.
During our conversation, or rather his monologue, he mentioned he hadn’t eaten at all that day and how the ice cream had stirred his hunger. A grown man, who couldn’t pack his own lunch, so he wouldn’t starve to death, was whining to me about being hungry. What was I going to do? I had driven cause his car was broken down. Apparently, I was going to be his mother and offer to take him to get himself food. Well the b*&tch had money for Chipotle, but not for ice cream.
Now I had grown weary of his constant adjusting and touching. It was really a bit much and there was very little attempt on his part to disguise it, but the pinnacle of grossness came when we were walking toward the ordering counter and he had the nerve to not only adjust himself, but lift up his leg and shake himself out. I was standing behind him and I could have died. I wanted to run out the door and leave his nasty ass there, but I couldn’t. He ordered his food and we decided to take it to go because I could not spend another second on this date. As he was getting his soft drink I finally had an opportunity to speak. As I was talking he began slowly and steadily moving his cup toward my face. To the point where I had to lean back while still trying to finish my sentence. Finally I stopped and said, “What’s going on here?” to which he replied, “I’m asking if you want some?”. Stick a fork in him, he’s done.
Finally, I go to drop him off at his house, only to find out he left his key in the house. Surprise, surprise!! Thankfully, he knew where his roommate was, so I went to drop him off there instead. On the way he gets a phone call. Apparently, he had left his broke down vehicle at a university parking lot for 2 WEEKS!! Even though he had AAA and could’ve easily had it towed, for free mind you. Campus security called to inform him that they were going to tow it. Guess who he asked to take him to his car so that he could wait for AAA? Now, I had some boundaries that I established from the beginning and one of them was that I wasn’t going to sit in a car with him till the wee hours of the night getting into deep conversations, because I have tendencies and it’s not a good idea. So far, he had respected that rule. Twenty minutes go by and AAA hadn’t showed up. I was ready to cut my ears off because he had rambled on the entire time, even busting out his modeling pictures from when he was eighteen, that he just so happened to carry in his glove compartment. Finally, I couldn’t take anymore and I asked him how long AAA said they would be before they got there. He hadn’t even called them!!! I didn’t want to leave him there because it was night time, at an empty parking lot in a shady neighborhood, but he had just worked on my last available nerve. I let him make the call and then waved goodbye to the nightmare that was that whole relationship.
Two words. Never. Again