Last night, I went out with Tim*, a lovely boy I met at a BJAC event last month. We were supposed to have had our first date that week that I was so sick, but since I was spending my days talking to the television, that really wouldn't have been a good idea.
Then again, maybe the drugs would have helped...
To be fair, it wasn't like last night was gouge my eyes out, slit my wrists, dull. Tim's actually quite the interesting character. Yes, that's it, "character." It's just that he turned out to be a little more, well, open and honest than I was comfortable with on a first date.
It started when I couldn't quite remember what he looked like (clearly he couldn't remember me either because he walked past me twice before it finally clicked for me). Then, he told me all about his gambling scheme: a friend doesn't want to pay his ex-wife alimony and child support, so the buddy "hangs out on his mom's couch all day and makes bets" for the guys. I learned all about horse racing -- a subject that I really only care about 2, maybe 3, weekends a year (depending on whether or not there's a Triple Crown contender). Good news: I think I finally understand the trifecta!
But wait, his money-making schemes aren't limited to gambling. He, very loudly I might add, shared with me last summer's adventure into DRUG DEALING. And no, we're not talking a little pot here and there. Though he claims to not have actually done the dealing himself, he gave his buddy $3,000 in "start-up funds." I was appalled. I was trying to get him to shut up, but for the longest time he just wasn't getting the point.
Desperate for conversation, I moved on to Law and Order. Strangely, after the previous two tracks, it just felt "safe" to me. That prompted him to tell me all about the summer that HE spent living on his mom's couch watching L&O and the fact that he'd rather spend Christmas with "Uncle Lennie" and "Aunt Serena" than head to Philly to spend the day with his real, live family!
Speaking of family, did you know my "parents didn't raise me right?" That's right, kids. My date, ON HIS FIRST (AND LAST) ATTEMPT TO GO OUT WITH ME told me that my parents didn't raise me right. I think he thought he was joking, but that sealed his fate.
I almost had an out, but something went wrong there too. I was mid-sentence when this large, greasy (like environmental lawyer greasy, not homeless greasy) guy showed up next to me...staring. No, "excuse me." No, I-think-I-know-you gestures. Just
STARING. I stop mid-word and turn to the interloper, disappointed to find that my fantasy of being "rescued" from a bad date by George Clooney has once again fallen through.
Me: Can I help you?
GreasyGuy: Um, I um think I know you. Where did you go to school?
Normally, isn't that the preference of the recognized to ask that question, not the recognizer? Yeah, that's what I thought too -- at least to ask it in the way that it was asked (you kinda had to be there). It turns out that he doesn't know me at all. He thinks he may have known Jules. Or he may have seen my "get me out of here " expression (it was right in the middle of the drug conversation) and thought he could alpha-male my date into leaving. Either way, it didn't work, and it reinforced my opinion that you cannot...ever...meet...a...man...at...a...bar!!!!
You'd think in a city of almost a million people, I'd finally meet a normal boy. Frankly, though, I'm starting to doubt they exist at all.
* Not his real name, but you already figured that out.
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