Continued from – The Mess: a New “Something” in the Mix
Have you ever gotten a present, like say for a birthday or Christmas, which you then opened only to find that there were more and more presents inside? Like, you had thought yourself lucky enough to get the first edition book you wanted, but then hidden beneath that was also that diamond necklace you’d been mooning over for months and beside that a round-trip ticket to Paris?
This date. Was the total opposite of that. Instead of presents upon presents it was like I had just walked into a mine-field of disappointment and loser bombs were exploding all around me.
I lied about being a non-smoker KABOOM!
I lied about my age KABOOM!
I’m going to eat all your yam fries and then make you pay for them KABOOM!
But I digress. I’m getting ahead of myself here. I mean come on, if I had to live through the whole disappointing experience I’m certainly going to make you share in the misery too. That’s only fair, right?
Sidebar: I feel the need to preface this date with two thoughts.
One, that while I may be a judgmental person, I’m also a very understanding person. While the rest of the world seems up in arms over a few spelling mistakes in a dating profile, I’m more likely to let them slide. However, if you couple those errors with tedious conversation, a general lack of ambition, a disheveled appearance, etc. suddenly it’s death by paper-cuts and I’m throwing baby out with the bathwater. So I’m guess I’m asking…don’t judge me for the bombs exploding on this date but the fact that they murdered me in my entirety.
Two, somehow when I go over this date story in my head, it doesn’t seem quite as disastrous as it felt at the time, which is why I’m certain I’m not doing it justice. I want it known that any inability to convey the absolute ickiness of this whole date is due to a inferior ability to put into words the sheer awfulness of the experience. So I’m guess I’m asking…multiply everything by two and then push it off a bridge into icy waters…yes…it was that bad.
Back on Track
So there I was…casually sitting at the bar, with my diet coke, a nervous disposition and the optimism of champions a hope for a fun night when suddenly there was a palm on my back, I turned the left and there he was. In all his mauve lilac lavender colored jacket wearing glory. KABOOM!
And then he spoke. And without evoking too many I’m-a-total-jackass-it’s-not-his-fault-that-nature-gave-him-this-but-it’s-also-not-my-fault-that-it’s-not-a-turn-on-sexist-stereotypes, he had a seriously feminine voice. KABOOM!
But then again, haven’t I always lamented feeling like my voice was too husky? So the date carries on, because this is just superficial bullshit, right…and for all I know his personality is amazing. And speaking of superficial bullshit, that’s when he takes off his jacket to reveal himself quite the little potbelly. And I know what you’re thinking aren’t you a plus-sized chubby chick? And indeed I am, and I make no effort to hide it, in fact I do my best to make sure it’s as visible as possible. Of course, I make an effort to look my best in photos, the same way I do for dates (I’m not showing up in jogging pants and a ponytail here right…I mean I’ve done my hair, I’ve all gussied up in pretty smoky-eyed makeup), but I don’t like to pull any punches because can you imagine showing up to a date and having someone be like ugh…you’re way fatter than I thought…I’m out of here.
But I digress. And like I said, maybe his personality would be stellar. Maybe he’d knock my socks off with his interesting questions or the kind way he listened to me talk about writing or traveling. Maybe we would laugh over witty repartee and cry over the loss of the Canucks and talk about the other teams still in the playoffs. Maybe. maybe. maybe…
But that’s not quite how it went.
Once he was settled and had ordered a beer, I started with one of the most simple questions known to man.
How was your day? I said.
Good he replied I bought a bunch of packets *inaudible ramble* to quit smoking *in audible ramble*
Wait what!?! He’s a smoker?!?! Uh…that’s not what his profile says. And cut the bullshit, if you can’t actually say you’ve quit smoking (past tense), you’re still a smoker. That would be like me saying I’m an average body type…because you know I’m working out and trying to get to a healthy weight and all. So yeah. KABOOM!
And the worst part of the whole thing, it’s not like he was even apologetic. No, I’m so sorry I fudged the truth but I hope you’ll forgive me. No, I get that it’s a really shitty thing to do, lying on dating profile, but blah blah blah. None of that. The dude acted like it was no big thing. And while perhaps I should not have, I too acted like it was no big thing, I mean, we were less than 5 minutes into the date. I don’t even know how you bail this early. So I smiled and he carried on. To the next subject.
Which was the mobile vaporizer he had just purchased, for $300. At first I thought he had asthma. Then realized it was for smoking weed. Which in theory is fine. But here’s where social protocol comes in. This is a first date. Keep that shit to yourself, son. Seriously. And then he explained further. Indicating the shape of the device with his hands kind of like a stout penis or a small vibrator he said *insert gross creepy laughter, encroaching on my personal space and attempting to touch my hand*. Oh, and of course my awkward laughter. KABOOM!
Luckily, he changed gears and asked me one of the only two questions he laid on me all night. What are you studying at UBC? I told him English Literature. Usually when I tell people this the conversation goes one of three ways. Nowhere, they’re not interested in this and we move on to other subjects like dating or politics. They ask who my favorite author is, which is fine, I usually just say Dickens or Defoe because there’s a fairly good chance they’ll know who I’m talking about or I’ll just mention anything that falls under the heading of Eighteenth Century Whore Biography. The third option makes me the most uncomfortable. It’s kind of like that Pros vs. Joes TV show where regular Joes try to beat Pro athletes at their sport. It’s where the person lists off their own favorite authors, books, etc. (without me actually asking them) and then grills me about all sorts of obscure authors I’ve never even heard of, and act shocked that I might not know about number 13 on the current New York Times Best Sellers list for hardcover fiction. Like, are you serious?!?! There are Billions of books…yes yes, please go ahead and try to feel a sense of superiority because you know a few books that an English Literature major has never heard of. Congratulations, you’re a genius. And that’s exactly what happened. We spent the next 5-10 minutes in an awkward tango of him attempting to outdo me, and me being fine with that. super. KABOOM!
Maybe he sensed how uncomfortable I was. Maybe he had just exhausted himself. For whatever reason though, I was given a reprieve when he asked about Grad Schools. Which ones had I applied to and did I know any results yet. I listed off the schools I’d applied to and told him that both Georgia State and North Carolina State had accepted me but I was still waiting to hear about the rest. Somehow this lead to a discussion about water, and I informed him that Georgia does, in fact, have water access. Now perhaps I’m at fault for what happened next as my finger-on-bar-top drawing skills may be a bit sub par but when I drew the state of Georgia and where it touched the ocean, his response was It’s like a nipple *insert gross touching of my imaginary drawing*. KABOOM!
To Be Continued…Part Three
Vancouver Dating Blog: Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time
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