Ambush Dating with Financial Repercussions

9 Dec

One of my good friends went out on a suboptimal date this evening. She called me at its conclusion fuming. She, as she always does, had offered the to pay for her dinner at the end of their not overly exciting date and for the first time she had someone take her up on it. Before you jump to conclusions and think, “well it is about time someone called her bluff.”  That my friends is not why she was mad. When the waitress came he asked her to split the check, which resulted in her paying for triple the price of her dinner and drinks (i.e. a large percentage of his meal).  The ensuing discussion was one about manners and proper behavior (and could likely be had 20-600 times a second in any given metropolitan area).

This absurd date made me think of the last date where I ended up paying for both mine and my dates food. If you are rolling your eyes, “Why not pay for a date’s meal?” “Isn’t there a feminist movement?” I would like to submit to the jury that this is not about the money. More about the etiquette.

Disclaimer: The following tale unfortunately might not be overly memorable in the land that we currently date in. It probably happens all the time.

The guy in question had asked me to go to dinner with him via a phone call that it turned out he was making just outside my door. I consider myself a polite person with a few rare exceptions when under extreme duress. How does one say no to the guy outside your door who knows that you are home and that you don’t really have other plans? Probably pretty simply, “No!” unless of course you are a people pleaser (thanks mom), then that simple two letter word becomes a virtual impossibility (although the vision of me army crawling towards my bedroom while he peered in my kitchen window trying to find me would not be that far from the truth).

So in short I went out with him due to obligation, not out of love, like, or even lust. Dinner was a mixture of excellent flavors and mind-numbing, IQ lessening conversation (the whole reason, I had balked at the idea of going on another date with this dude in the first place). He insisted on trying a ton of things as he talked about himself ad nauseum. He even was so kind to take me through a play by play of his last 10 gym workouts, which he was pretty sure was giving him his ingrown back hairs that occasionally got infected. Would I maybe pop one of them later? Direct quote (of note dinner became less appealing at that moment and I didn’t eat very much more). To my credit I sat listened and smiled until I could take it no more.

Thinking back I am not sure which bit of rhetoric it was that became the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Maybe the one about how he was looking for someone else to sue so he could make a quick buck. Or maybe it was continuous quoting of Adam Sandler movies in a baby voice. However, I had my fill of both the food (especially post ingrown hair image) and his ridiculous chatter. So I decided to be honest and I told him that we weren’t really on the same page in life. He apparently translated that as I was even more into him (another problem completely).

I then told him I had to get home to prepare for work the next day. This he seemed to process as it was meant. We asked for the check and upon its arrival he informed me that he had realized on the drive over that he didn’t have his wallet, but it wasn’t it worth his company during this fine evening? At this point I was at Defcon 10, no eye contact with extreme focus on how to get out with all of my faculties. I paid and bolted, realizing in mid-bolt that I was actually headed towards his car. Crap!  (Enter awkward goodbye when I arrive at my house as I dash from his automobile while he tries to grope me).  This guy continued to call and ask me out for the next 3 months. I never went on another date with him and have also likely not regained the brain cells lost during the above evening.

The Player: Call Outside Your Door for a Date That Starts Right Now Guy

The lesson: Sometimes you have to pay out monetarily. This is OK. Dole out the cash. Anything you can do to get away from the nonsense and salvage your self respect is a worthy investment. Learn from the best. You should lie, say you are not home and army crawl to safety. 

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The skinny on the skinny in New York City

7 Dec

I recently lost weight (intentionally, but also as a result of just getting my life back in order). This, however, has made me recall a particularly memorable dating experience from several years ago.

Looking back with that scathing 20/20 or maybe even 15/20 clarity that one always possess with the luxury of hindsight, I would now flee the scene and deem the boy undateable for his transgressions. Unfortunately then I was blinded by the promise of romance and boy-friend-age.

We all have skinny friends. The girls that can wear the most absurd runway fashions and make them look exactly as Valentino, the house of McQueen, Calvin Klein, or even the Gap/Old Navy intended. I have never been one of those girls, but like many of my compatriots have dreamed that maybe one day I would obtain such glory.

I almost even got there once with a nasty bout of extremely restricted eating.

Unfortunately I like things that aren’t on the Kate Moss “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” list (even though I think we could probably make a strong argument that at definite points in time Kate’s wispy frame could have been assisted by illicit drug use. This being said the super model size of skinny that somehow occasionally maintains double d breasts is about as obtainable as the truth behind Kim Kardashian’s recent nuptials.

I digress. Back to the incident at hand. This boy was a boy I had known for a long time. We had reconnected at a bar when I was in grad school and he was in town for the weekend on business. One thing had led to another, at the time I would have naively claimed that it was because I looked so stunning in my new trendy off the shoulder shirt and designer jeans further compounded by my witty repartee. Now I understand (as recently as today after reading a post about online dating), that all men are likely socialized to hit anything that moves. He had gone home with me that weekend to my townhouse. We (and by we I mean I) had refrained from crossing any major bases; there were of note some hands under some garments.

I like most sappy girls who loosely cling to the idea of the fairytale had imagined amazing things happening as a result of this new and fun “thing” that was likely happening to high schoolers simultaneously all over the world. And then… Wow! He actually called. This could be going some where right? when the out of towner calls post make out, heavy petting session?

Not too long after I was visiting his sister (for other reasons of course) and we arranged to meet up, get a drink, see where the night led us (he actually didn’t arrange for the last bit per se, but I did in my overly active imaginative brain, and if you believe the “Hit it if it

moves” theory about men he at least considered it). We ended up (after enough drinks to lose our inhibitions, approximately 2 for me and I think about the same for him (warning bells to that)), in a cab continuing our last meeting.

I should probably take a moment to apologize to all cab drivers out there, even though best case scenario is they are actually amused by such behavior as sucking face. This cabbie in particular didn’t seem to be concerned about our personal safety as we were knocked around like jumping beans sealed together via lips and various appendages. We eventually arrived at his place stumbling out of the cab, not due to inebriation, but more due to the treacherous conditions of the cab ride. We entered his building and in a moment which is likely as close to romance novel as I have gotten, he threw me on the stairs and jumped me with every intention of having his way. Music was swelling in my head, I saw fireworks (which could likely have been from the impact on the wood, but hey), and he whispered what I thought would be eluding to his unbelievable attraction and respect for me, “You are the biggest girl I have ever brought home.”

ummmmmmmmm…….. What?

And he repeated himself this time further explaining that he usually preferred a skinnier kind of gal.

And we have a swing and a miss.

Did I sleep with him?

No, thus avoiding definitive tragedy and an even larger hit to my already wilting self esteem.

Did we ever go out on a formal date?

No.

Will I ever understand what possessed him to utter such anti-sweet nothings?

I highly doubt it.

The Player: The Modelizer 

Take home message: The “modelizer” that is discussed in Sex and the City does exist, and that guy if he opens his

mouth can kill a mood faster than Lindsay Lohan can violate her probation (Kombucha tea anyone?).  Any guy should also have enough wherewithal to realize that no chick is actually going to want to shed clothing after such a misstep. The only problem is I still think about this incident any time things are about getting steamy. Is the new guy a skinny girl pedestalizer? Will he be disappointed once the outer layers are shed?

The Old Adage Reality

20 Nov

Today I was inspired or more aptly put irritated to the point of blog-age.  So here begins musings about a subject that I doubt there is any possibility of actually understanding: men but more often boys. I have been told for years that I will find someone the moment I stop looking. “Things happen when you least expect it.” blah blah blah blah.Here is the thing. I haven’t looked or expected anything for years. I don’t look because who in their right mind would wade through such nonsense? I don’t expect because I am a reality based kind of gal and expectations or ludicrous set ups for disappointment and more disturbingly disenchantment. So what brings me here today you may or may not be asking? The answer is not really that simple.I have been pseudo-dating this guy for 6 months. If you live in the current dating situation that is the 21st century US of A you realize that means all kinds of things, but it always always means that someone doesn’t want to commit, seal the deal, or (gasp) DTR (define the relationship). We met a mutual friends gathering and got along enough to keep in touch and plan trips to see one another.

Problem number 1: long distance from the get go. He, however, came with glowing reviews from my very good girlfriend and pretty much everyone else. It was perfect, I was definitely not looking or expecting anything at all from anyone. This was how it was supposed to happen. Cue music and listen to it swell as a series of excellently executed romantic dates followed.Staying on task, the gaps are too absurd not to fill in at a later date, he we are 6 months later still 1000 miles apart mostly texting. 

Problem number 2: He changed one day. No explanation. And I am definitely not your typical over analyzing chick (in this specific moment). It went from 100 texts a day and phone calls to silence except once a week maybe.

Problem number 3: I let him return without explanation.

Problem number 4: ME. That’s right I said it. I let the behavior continue albeit with very very creative excuses, however. This is my fault as are some of the up and coming posts I am sure.

So alas we have the straw that broke the camels back and created http://www.whatreallyhappenswhennotlooking.com

A TRUE STORY… 

letmeshowyouapictureofmycats

and other awful dating dilemmas.

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