Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Bad Date #6: And just so you know, it's not that common, it doesn't happen to every guy, and it is a big deal!

Someone linked to my series of Bad Date Stories today, and it got me thinking about other bad dates I've had. So, here's another one that didn't make the Top 5, but was still pretty bad.

I had been dating this guy for about a month and a half. He was pretty nice, tall, and, I would come to find out, unnaturally close to his mother. He did buy me a nice Ikea lamp though once, which I think she picked out, so kudos to her. Finally, after weeks of weekend dates which were all very fun but pretty much G-rated, I got to the point where I felt like he was kind of pissing me off because, well, he wouldn't put out. There, I said it. He pretended to be all gentlemanly and whatnot, and meanwhile I was dying of frustration. So, I tricked him into inviting me to stay overnight at his house so we could go to this awesome museum together for a full day, and still be able to get dinner and drinks the night before without having to drive me home (it was about 35 miles away).

I got there on Friday night and, first indicator of impending doom, he decides he just wants to "order in a pizza" because he's tired from work! PUH-LEAZE. This dude had the stink about him of a man who hasn't had sex in a LONG time, and he was making no effort at, he was only 31 years old, a military officer, in great shape, and wasn't working outside in the hot sun or anything strenuous like that. I won't lie, this worried me. But, I persevered because, hey, I was stuck there (this was after I sold my car and became sadly reliant on public transportation...I had taken the commuter train down to his house Friday after school and he was to drive me back on Saturday) and up until that point the only thing really wrong with him was that he was TOO nice and seemed very asexual. We ordered pizza, and sat down to watch a movie and have a drink.

Or, more to the point, for me to have a drink. Mr. Stressy-pants couldn't hold his liquor and was afraid to drink more than 1/2 a beer because he didn't want to get "too crazy." Yeeeeeeah. Also, he rented Lost in Translation, which, frankly, didn't do much for me. But, whatever. After the movie, I try to move things along, which, prior to him and since him, has never been an issue. And, well, not to get too graphic...but...he had a little bit of a "performance problem." As in, no performance at all. The stage lights were on but the leading man was on strike, if you know what I mean.

I tried to be understanding, I really did. But, then, he lashed out. "Well, I don't know about you, but I haven't had sex in two years." "Uhhhhhhhh...." Then, the best line ever to throw out in an awkward situation..."Well, how long has it been since you had sex?" I was laying there trying to decide whether to lie or not (listen buddy, it sure as shit hasn't been two years!), when all of the sudden he gets even more into his role as Mr. CrazyAssPyschoBoy and goes "Also, just how many men have you slept with?"

How does one answer that when one is trapped at someone's house, with no means of transportation, and the person asking the question is clearly already feeling woefully sexually inadequate? And I guess I was silent too long because he goes "Is it more than 5?" Nervous laugh. "Is it more than ten?" Um. Uh. I mean, this was a couple of years ago, but I'm 30 years old, I've had past relationships...why are we talking about this? Also, I was having a real hard time not lashing back...never in my whole life have I wanted to unleash the E. Spat mean streak so much! But, to my credit, I resisted the urge to say "10 this year?" Or, "why, what did your office mate tell you?"

So, after that wonderfully awkward exchange, I very carefully tried to go to sleep without touching him AT ALL, and got up super-early the next morning to get ready to go home and hoped I would wake him up so I could just get the hell out of there (sadly we still visited the museum, but spent the entire time in awkward silence and general uncomfortableness -- we didn't stay long). It is important to note that after I took a shower and got dressed and got my shit together and went into the living room he was on the phone with his mother, telling HER ALL ABOUT ME, like we hadn't just had to most terribly awkward night EVER! Also, this is when I found out that, although he was 31, his paychecks went into a joint account with his mother and she paid all his bills and gave him a little allowance. I couldn't even think because of the noise of all the warning flags popping up in my head.

Apparently though, he felt like all was well, and wanted to take me to lunch on the way home after the brief stop at the museum. I politely smiled and tried not to kick him in the throat, and off we went to lunch, where the next best part of the "date" happened.

After lunch, the waitress noticed I'd barely touched my food and asked if I'd like a to-go box.

Me: "Yes!"

Boy: "Ummm, are you sure?"

Me: "Yeah, why?"

Boy: "Well, I just don't know if it's a good idea."

Me: "HUH?"

Boy: "OK, I really don't want you taking food in my car."

Me: "What in THE f*ck are you talking about?"

Boy: "Look, it's a $45,000 car!"

Me: "It's $16 pasta! I want to take it home!"

Boy: "No, sorry. You might spill."

So, we left the pasta behind because apparently I can't be trusted to carry a takeout container on my lap without spazzing out and splashing it all over this asshat's expensive sports car. Then, because I was pissed, I go "So, do you want to talk about what happened last night?" He actually goes "What? I think everything is fine." REALLY? You seriously think that? The end of this story is that basically I just quit answering his phone calls and he eventually moved away, or so I heard. I didn't feel any real need for a formal break-up since there had never been a formal, uh, break-in.

Anyhoo, didn't I tell you before I could tell these stories all damn day?

Maybe if exams really start to get me down I'll think of some more bad date stories. This one is probably right on the edge of where I'm willing to go in terms of racy-ness (raciness? racyness? When in doubt, hyphenate and pretend you're being intentionally obtuse), and I'm not sure I have any left that aren't, to some degree or another, things I don't really want to get into on my blog. Hmmm....I'll have to consider this more fully at a later date.
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