2/22/09 - Date Twenty Two: Oh God, the Horror

I title this post thusly because this was potentially one of the worst dates I've ever had. Ok, ok. I didn't fear for my personal safety, or get kidnapped, or molested, or spit on, or dumped on the side of the highway out of a moving vehicle. But, I would have welcomed any of those things, with the possible exception of the molestation, just to have ended this horrible, horrible train wreck of a date. Man, it's painful just thinking about it ...

I met this guy at a bar that he chose which was neither convenient to where either of us lives or fun in any way. So from the very get go, I was not feeling it. I told friends where I was going and they all thought it was hilarious pretty much across the board. The bar that this 33 YEAR OLD "MAN" chose for our first date venue is universally known in my city as having a great happy hour ... IF YOU'RE IN COLLEGE. And neither of us are in college. At least that I'm aware of. I arrived early, pulled up a seat, and deflected unwanted attention from the over eager bartender. By the end of the night, I was secretly begging him to knock my date out and drag me away by my hair, but I'm getting ahead of myself. There are so many bad things, I'm going to struggle to remember them all. I'll list.

First, from the second this guy opened his mouth and began speaking words, I wanted to gouge my ears out. He had a super nasal, woman-y voice that was reminiscent of Fran Drescher on helium. I swear. It was unreal. And he was speaking really, really loudly (the music wasn't blasting in this place. It was Sunday night and most people were watching The Oscars) as if he had some sort of hearing loss so I was self-conscious the entire time because certainly everyone else at the bar was hearing his side of the conversation with crystal clarity. Awesome.

Second, and I feel bad about this one because I really try not to be critical about people's appearance but this guy's hands completely freaked me out. I couldn't stop staring at them. He had these long, white, bony fingers topped with long, weirdly manicured fingernails. They may even have been polished. They were certainly buffed. Oh God ... I can't. I'm feeling nauseous ... the thought of him touching ... me ... oh ... *gulp*

Third, the "being arrested" story. It was Mardi Gras, 2000 (so he was 24 years old). He was TOTALLY WASTED and got nabbed for peeing in some back alley in NoLa. Had to hear all about the cops, the other inmates at the jail, the jumpsuit, the hearing before the judge. Heard about this twice, in fact. First time was in hour one of the date and second time was in hour two. Did he forget that he'd just told me the story? Does he have short term memory loss? Was that THE STORY and he had to go back for it a second time because he ran out?

Fourth, other stories included anecdotes about his sister and brother-in-law, his sister and brother-in-law, and ... wait for it ... yes, his sister and brother-in-law. How they're great and wonderful and drink all the time and are always inviting him over and how sometimes they smoke weed, but not all the time, and how they drink (and that is all the time). I can't really say why this bothered me but it really, really did. Every story this guy told me, including obviously the arrest story, included some detail about how wasted he was ... not attractive, folks. Not attractive at all.

Fifth, need I go on here ... the date was so bad that the bartender and multiple other patrons of the establishment felt the need to comment on it to me. During my date's second bathroom break (i.e. my respite from hell), the bartender came over, looked at me with sad eyes, and said "How ya doin'? Ya doin' ok?" He wasn't asking if I needed another drink here, people. I looked at him, turned my head to the side and said, "Um, no. I think I might need a shot of what they're having." I pointed to the other side of the bar where there were three very attractive young fellows, enjoying food, laughs, and yummy shots of Sambuca Black. Mmmmmmm, Sambuca. The bartender went over to them, said something I couldn't hear, gestured over to me at which point they all turned simultaneously and one of them offered to buy me the shot. I politely declined as I knew I wasn't brave enough to handle the resulting socially awkward situation of my date returning any minute finding me doing shots with three other guys. More than potentially uncomfortable, right? But so, so, so tempting.

The bartender also asked how the date came about ... I told him we met online and he walked over to the aforementioned group of hotties, again said something I couldn't hear, and one of them gave him a dollar. Earlier in the evening I overheard him say something about a blind date and mutual friends ... never would have guessed they were betting on it. Ah well, at least somebody had a good time!!

Meanwhile, back in hell my date had returned. I yawned and he finally got the hint that it was time to let this poor, tortured evening just die already. Additionally, I hadn't had dinner and was starving so all I could think about was getting home, putting on the PJs, making some din, and watching whatever was left of The Oscars. Or running screaming into traffic ... whichever. We walked out, he offered to walk me to the bus stop, I practically screamed NO!!! but restrained at the last minute and told him it was ok, it was just across the street. He expressed interest in going out again, I responded with a lame "Sure." And then walked away saying "No way in hell." I wonder if he heard me ...

Remember how I posted awhile back that I could talk to a potted plant for two hours at this point? Well, last night I wish I had.