Thank You for the Lovely Evening. Let's Never Do It Again!

Years ago, I was dragged into a blind date. My roommate had met some guy at the mall and was afraid to go out with him alone. Cue each of them bringing "support."

We meet them at the movie theatre. Her date was tall, in shape and well dressed. My "date" was gothed out to the max. Black lipstick, eyeliner, black fishnet shirt and giant black "raver" pants with all manner of chains and safety pins. To see them together was strange in itself, they did not appear to have anything in common.

Now I'm a "weird" girl but I don't find this look attractive. At all. I decided to be nice, no sense ruining my roommates date. We went and saw Wild West with Will Smith. Awful movie, made worse by him whispering in my ear the entire fucking time. Trivia, complements, anecdotes on how his life was similar to the flick, on and on! I was so grateful to go home.

When he asked to see me again I was an asshole. I told him I was pretty sure I was a lesbian, I just wasn't ready to come out yet.

And that was the first and last blind date for me.

 

New Year's Eve. 1995.

I get a call from an old (female) friend asking what I was doing for New Years. I informed her I was a pathetic wretch with no life outside of my low-paying, paper-pushing, menial job. She thought I was funny. I was serious.

Ignoring my rampant cynicism and the fact that I was not any fun to be around she invited me to her place for the holiday.

So I drove up to spend New Years with her. She lived about 4 hours away and, despite the fact that we had been friends for about 4 years, we had never been together alone. Ever.

So we both got shitfaced. Seriously, I'm talking, knee-walking, snot-slinging, drunk-as-an-Irish-Indian, too drunk to fish drunk. So drunk I had to call a cab and find my way home in a strange town drunk.

Of course we fooled around. Despite my nearly coma inducing BAQ I underperformed to a fantastic degree. Bullets have left guns slower than my semen did that night.

14 years later, she's 20 feet away from me right now.

 

I've had some truly heinous dates in my life, but about 4 years ago, right after my divorce, I was asked out by a guy at the Home Depot. And, he was cute, really cute, so I thought, "what the hell?" We met for dinner at a restaurant near my house, and the margaritas flowed and the conversation was witty/sparkling, and he was an army officer stationed near Lake Charles (so from about 6 hours away) who'd evacuated from a hurricane to his buddy's house (near mine).

So, after dinner, we're standing in the parking lot, and he looks down at my feet, and he says to me, in the creepiest voice, ever..."From here on out, I don't ever want to see red polish on your toenails."

I had this open-mouthed moment of complete bafflement, and I was like, "What?"

"That's right. Women should only, ever, have french pedicures on their toenails. If you're going to date me, you have to follow my rules."

So let me get this straight...you are such a controlling fuck that you're going to tell me what kind/color of nail polish I can wear? On the first date? What's next, on the second date? You tell me what I can eat, what color my hair should be, and what I am allowed to wear?

On the plus side, I'm glad he outed himself as creepy control freak dude on the first date. It saved me a lot of time and trouble.

Plus, his taste in nail polish was clearly crap. Everyone knows toenails should be red.