So last night I went on a date. My first date since my last relationship, which ended little over a year ago. Which had been my first relationship since the untimely death of my marriage. Needless to say, I don't date much. I have many reasons, I suppose. I'm a single mother. I work 40 hours a week. My child is still very young and in need of my attention and affection. I'm afraid to get hurt again. I don't have a wide enough social circle to meet potential mates more often than once every 2 years. Bla bla bla yadda yadda yadda...take your pick. I have tried a few dating sites. I mostly started just to see. I was curious to see what kind of men were on the market. Over the last few years I have visited eHarmony, Match.com, Plenty of Fish and OKcupid. And what I have found is that most of the men on the market, are still hanging in the window for a reason.
I've been contacted by numerous men. Most emails I received mainly consisted of one sentence, or sometimes one word and usually had something to do with describing my butt. "Sup?" "DAMN! You got ass." "You remind me of a Mos Def song. 'Ass so fat you can see it from the front'.When you gonna let me hit dat, ma?" And that would be the entire body of the email. What on earth kind of response these men expected, I couldn't tell you. On one occasion I received what seemed to be the first chapter of a book. The email took me 15 minutes to read through. A few times I got asked out, but I always said 'no'. Like I said, I was just there to look and get a feel. That is, until this week.
I call my date "Mimi". Why? Say that name over and over and over again and you will get the gist of his conversation. The date started out promising enough. We chatted online a few times and seemed to have a lot in common and he had a great sense of humor. He asked me out to dinner. Which would imply that there would be dinner, right? Not necessarily, as you will come to find out.
We met in the parking lot, and before we had crossed the street into the restaurant he had already dropped an "f bomb". I thought "okay, he's nervous. It's understandable." We walk inside and he takes me through the restaurant and to the back patio. Before arriving at our date night, he knew that I was very inexperienced with the world of beer, so he offered to teach me about it. The truth is, I really can't stand beer, but I thought "you know what? He wants to show off his knowledge on a subject. This is something I have never done before. I'll give it a shot."
We seat ourselves outside and he orders both of us some beers. Then he orders an appetizer. Pretzels with cheese and mustard for dipping. Little did I know that this would be the only thing we would eat this evening. There never was an entree. Just beer...and pretzels. So our beers show up and I have to say, mine wasn't that bad. It was actually pretty good. As I sip, he starts to talk. About 4 minutes into his chatter, he lets out a burp mid-sentence. He never stops to excuse himself. He just keeps on talking. (Oooooookaaaaay) 25 minutes later, he is still talking. I'm nibbling on pretzels wondering when we're going to order dinner.
He's in the Navy. So needless to say, he's spent some time over seas. I know aaaaaaaaall about it. He went on and on about how he's "the man". He told me about how he once owned a bar in Tahiti, how on the island everyone would come to him for anything they needed because he had connections. While on ship he was the man who everyone came to for the most in demand of items. American cigarettes, American candy bars, movies, porn...you name it. (Did he seriously just tell his date that he was a porn distributor? Yes he did!) He went into great detail about his rule of lending out porn on the ship. "If it comes back sticky, you're done. You're cut off. No more for you. Just keep it. Ha ha ha, you know what I mean?" (Ummmmm...) *que a nervous laugh and a giant swig of my tasting-better-every-minute beer*
During the next half hour he downs another beer and lets out another half dozen belches. Still never once stopping to say "excuse me". I'm sorry. That's not only rude, but it's disgusting. Talk of sticky lender porn on a first date, I can almost handle. But not excusing yourself after a burp, you're crossing the line, buddy.
He casually mentions the pretzel appetizer and asks if I like it. I say yes, it is very good. He then remarks "Yeah, they've got food inside, but it's really weird." as he scrunches his face. A few things come into my head now. I realize that not only are we NOT ordering anything other than this appetizer, but I think to myself "Why on earth would you ask me to dinner at a place which serves food that you have no intention of eating?" I also notice that we have now been here an hour and a half, and I've spoken about 15 minutes total.
The best...well I wouldn't call it that. How about, the most interesting and perhaps humorous (to anyone not actually on this date) part of this story comes about 45 minutes later. We're...as you were...he is still talking as we go for a walk. As we come to rest on a picnic bench and he continues to regale me with stories of how awesome he is, how he once almost smacked his best friends wife for being a bitch (what the shit?), of what kind of dates he'd like to take me on in the future (and he's serious!!) it happens. I hear a strange noise. At the same time I notice that the bench we're sitting on vibrated somewhat. Oh my God. This man just farted. He farted!! He farted and yet the band played on. He didn't stop for an instant. Suddenly I could hear the lyrics to a Matthew Wilder song. "Aint nothing gonna break my stride. Nobody's gonna slow me down. Oh no. I got to keep on (TALKING)!!!"
Thinking back on it now, I wonder if I kept my poker face. Honestly I was too in shock once I realized what had just happened to notice whether or not I kept my composure. And even if I hadn't, I don't think it would have mattered because this fool wasn't even looking at me. As far as he was concerned he was on an awesome date with himself. He started to tell me about an awful date he had once gone on in which the girl started talking about marriage and kids and how she could see these things happening with him. And in the same breath, starts discussing "our" future together. He is telling me all about the things we're gonna do together and the dates he's gonna take me on. The phrase "Not if you were the last man on earth" came to mind more than once. What's really strange is the fact that this was not the first date I had been on since becoming single in which my date talked incessantly. The first guy even caught himself on a few occasions and would jokingly refer to himself as "Hemingway". On that particular date I don't think I said more than "It's nice to finally meet you" and "Well thank you for the lovely evening." But that is another story for another time...
|Some dates can leave a bad taste in your mouth|