Didn't that used to be the name of a show? Where people purposely sabotaged their own dates to see how long the other person could endure, and if said person could put up with it long enough, they would win a bunch of money? I was convinced I was on that show Friday night, but sadly it ended with me driving home with no more or less money than I started out with that night.
Let me back up a few weeks and say I met someone and went on a few dates with him. I told my closest friends pretty early on that I was sure it wasn't going anywhere, but they convinced me that feelings grow and evolve and this other Hallmark crap, so I decided to give him and the "relationship" a chance.
I guess some red flags went off right away. He was divorced (I knew this from some investigative work) but it never came up. Which was fine, because the first few dates are too soon to talk about past relationships. But divorce and kids have always been deal breakers for me and I tell myself until I'm 30, I don't need to bend on those. He also went to an Ivy League for his bachelor's and his master's but mentioned how he's the most junior person at his job he recently started - sits at the front desk and answering the phones on top of his regular responsibilities. OK, fine. Some offices are really small and need someone to take that on. He also seemed to have unlimited free time - as is, no friends. But went to random dance classes and put up flyers offering guitar lessons to little kids. This is where I told myself to stop being a judgmental b*tch because pretty soon I'm going to be 45 with a bunch of cats, on an episode of Hoarders.
I have not enjoyed any of our dates but I haven't exactly suffered through them either. I have endured them while telling myself the first few can be awkward.
When it came time for Date No. 4, we planned to meet at a Tex-Mex restaurant and see a movie afterward. Turns out, he bought the tickets to Django Unchained the night before, stating that since it had only been in theaters for a week-and-a-half, it would probably sell out. When I looked up the trailer and saw the movie was two hours and 45 minutes long, I wanted to stab myself in the face. Or cancel. But I did neither. Despite the fact that I had been having allergic reactions to something all week long that resulted in me taking copious amounts of Benadryl to fend off the hives and severely itch skin from head to toe, I went to our date on Friday night.
When I got to the restaurant, it was packed. So packed that the parking lot was full and people were parallel parking on the side street. So that's where I parked. When I went inside, it was exactly 6 - our planned meeting time. I didn't see him waiting or at the bar, so I stood in line to speak to the hostess. I saw him waving out of the corner of my eye, but I decided to do a d*ckhead test (thus making me a b*tch, I'm fine with it): I pretended not to see him. I even looked around the restaurant several times while waiting for the hostess, making sure never to meet his eyes. He let me stand there for three whole minutes. I even made a big show of checking my watch and my phone. Finally he came over and told me he had a table, and I acted all surprised. He failed the d*ckhead test.
I was exhausted from a long week, and decided to order water. He got all weird to the waitress and said, "I guess I'll start with water then, too." OK, that could be interpreted as a nice gesture - not drinking because your date isn't. But really, we're adults. If he wanted a Dos Equis or a margarita, I wouldn't have judged him. I judged him for not being able to make up his own mind, actually.
We hadn't seen each other since before Christmas, so we talked about how we spent the holidays. When I mentioned I got the KitchenAid Stand Mixer I'd been drooling over for two years, he told me he got "a Cuisinart." When I asked what he got, he repeated himself: "A Cuisinart" and looked at me like I was an idiot. For those of you who are not kitchen snobs like me, Cuisinart is a brand like KitchenAid, Proctor Silex, etc. They make a lot of kitchen appliances, gadgets, and utensils. I decided to let him assume I was a fool, and eventually deduced that he received either a crockpot or a food processor, because he told me that he used it to make soup, and then he "freezed" it for later. I actually choked on my water and said, "You what?" And he said he "freezed the soup for later." Oh. My. God. If you're wondering what is wrong with this statement, then please go away and never talk to me or read my blog again. OK, fine, here's a hint: FREEZED IS NOT A WORD!
I forget the rest of our dinner conversations. He kept looking at his watch and reminding me the movie started at 7:25. Except it was like 6:45 when our food came, the theater is literally a mile down the road, and he had already purchased the tickets online. So I wolfed down my food, thus resulting in some less-than-desirable stomach issues that persisted until the wee hours of the morning. Thanks buddy. When the check came, he grabbed it and said, "I got this," and winked at me. I tried to argue, and insisted that he had paid for the previous dates as well as the movie tickets. He finally said, "If it makes you uncomfortable that I pay, then I'll let you pay." In the end, I let him pay instead of figuratively chopping off his balls by being a modern woman who pays for dinner.
He could not, for the life of him, figure out how we were going to get ourselves from the restaurant to the theater. Well, I'm sure he could, but he played stupid. I don't play games (except the d*ckhead test game), so I said, "Let's just drive separate since you have to go north to get home later, and I have to go south." We walk to our cars, and when we get to mine, I realize the car parallel parked in front of me is actually touching my front bumper. I was livid. I started digging for my phone so I could take pictures and take down the car's license plate and whatnot. He simply said, "That's a good idea," kept walking to his car, got in, and drove off. I was still taking down the info when he drove past me. It took me 45 tries to get out of the spot because I had zero room and no one to help me spot (I only cared about hitting the innocent car behind me - I was happy to ding up the stupid SUV that decided to park on top of my car). I eventually got the theater and met him inside. He picked up our tickets, continued to annoy me by letting everyone coming from other directions to cut in front of us to get into the ticketed area, and then waited while I used the bathroom.
The rest of the movie experience was uneventful. The movie itself was good, but just way longer than it needed to be, and I kept having to readjust my legs and sitting position because everything in my lower body kept falling asleep during those three hours, and he didn't move a muscle. When the movie ended, he sat there as if he wanted to watch the credits. I got up and started to push past him, but he eventually got the hint and stood up (walking ahead of me, just like he did when we left dinner. Side note: my friend from Florida asked if guys in New England hold doors and have good manners like guys in the South. I used this as an example as to why they do not.) to leave. We walked out to the parking lot together, and by now my itchiness was returning, and I was eager to just get in my car where I could scratch the hives (they always start on my ears and work down) and go home. He wanted to walk slowly and prolong our nightmare - I mean date. I had mentioned earlier how I took Rags for a hike in the snow in this conservation area, and he decided to finally ask me about it four hours later, on the walk to our cars. I changed the subject and mentioned how cold and tired I was. He was silent, and then a moment later, with his eyes locked on the edge of the parking lot, asked, "Would you like to take a walk there?" I looked to where he was looking, and said, "Umm, actually I'm really cold right now." He laughed and said, "No, I meant down in that conservation area." I said something like, "Yeah sure, that'd be great." By now we were at my car. I gave him the obligatory hug, thanked him for the evening, and got in my car and drove away.
When I didn't hear from him all weekend, I assumed he got the hint with my hasty departure and the disaster of an evening. Wrong. He texted me Tuesday night saying: "Would you like to do something this weekend? I'm free Friday and Saturday nights, and Sunday until 3." Shocking! This dude never has any plans. I waited a full 24 hours before responding that I couldn't because I have a lot going on this weekend. Which is sorta true - I have a work thing for two hours on Sunday morning. I don't want to be a jerk, but as a few of my female and one of my male friends has confirmed - most guys don't know when a date is awful, and it needs to be spelled out for them. So I will just keep making excuses until he gets tired of asking. Or maybe I'll man up and tell him I'm just not that into him. Probably not.
Back to square one, and I am 1% closer to being a cat lady/hoarder for the rest of my life. Rags would love that.
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