Really Bad Date Part 1

I have recently begun exploring my dating options again. My marriage has been over for nearly four years and woman cannot exist on golf, TIVO and kids alone. My South African cousin tells me to go to a bar, pick someone up and take care of business. Guys are so practical like that.

But the truth is, I've never been a terribly good judge of character where men are concerned so me and some nameless stranger would probably end up more like the shower scene from Psycho than the tub scene in Pretty Woman.

Knowing this, I have welcomed the opportunity to have friends set me up on blind dates. I figured that if I went missing, they'd be able to point the police in the right direction.

A few years ago, a friend of mine asked me if I would entertain going out with a newly divorced guy that her sister knew. Did he have all of his teeth? Yes. Was he employed? Yes. Collecting social security? No. Well sign me up!

I was very careful in the pre-date preparation. I won't go into detail because every woman out there knows exactly what this entails. Let it suffice to say that razors, tweezers, exfoliants, lotions, expensive hair products, tricky panties and valium were involved.

We agreed to meet at a local restaurant after an email exchange of pictures.
So he shows up in this dingy windbreaker that at one time may have been white but had clearly seen better days. It was gray, dirty and fraying at the cuffs. His jeans had a faded grass stain on the left knee and a dried rim of mud circling the hems. Which brings me to his moon boots. They were quite possibly the largest, ugliest hiking boots I'd ever seen. I am talking KISS in the late 70's with their platforms big.
I will reserve judgement. I will reserve judgement. Oh Christ! Is that an afro comb sticking out of his back pocket?

So we sit and get a bit of the small talk out of the way. Actually he talked, I listened. I heard about the ex-wife and how she cheated on him and how she could NEVER be satisfied. Oh yes, and he hoped that she had finally found what she was looking for because he'd never take her back.

"Oh. Has she tried to reconcile?"

"No. I'm just saying that if she ever did...." Uh huh. Did she see your afro comb?

So, we get to the business of ordering and he starts talking about money as in, "She took half of all MY money". He then announces that he is only going to have a salad (in a fusion Mexican place) to try to keep the costs of the meal in line because HAVE I SEEN THE PRICES AT THIS JOINT? I silently wonder if I would be in less pain if I pulled my eyelids up over my head.

The conversation somehow works its way around to hobbies and I take the time to mention the aforementioned boots. Like I said, they were enormous and I asked him if they were heavy.

"Huh?"

"Your boots. They're huge. I don't think I have ever seen hiking boots with soles that big. Is there a special purpose for them?"

"Well, you know what they say about the size of a man's boot...." said with a distinctly creepy smile and an exaggerated wink of someone who has spent entirely too much time in front of a mirror practicing faces.

I did my best to appear as though I had no idea what he was talking about. It was easy. I had had ten years of experiencing the real thing with my ex husband.

Awkward silence...on to the next topic:

Alex, I'll take museums and art for $500.

So he tells me about a friend of his who is a curator for a museum and had recently hosted an Egyptian show. He says his favourite part was looking at the esophagus of a mummy because it was carved and painted with great detail. Wow. How exactly is that done?

"Oh really? Was each one of the mummies accompanied by its own sarcophagus?" (Steady, steady)

"I don't remember if each one had an esophagus but it was a really important show." Yes, I'm sure it was a fucking anatomical wonder.

The food comes and I pray that he either orders another bottle of wine (unlikely) or I wake up. He had saved the very best part of the date for dinner. Being a sharing kind of guy and completely emotionally available (his words, not mine), he offered up a view of his partially chewed food every few seconds. I had to turn away as the gaps in his teeth filled with green goober. He then suggested that we might like to end the evening with nightcap at his place and perhaps, a movie. Then he winked, AGAIN. The slurp, smack and sucking saliva through his teeth sound (probably to dislodge some of that green charm) became deafening.

I politely excused myself to the ladies' room which was parked next to the double doors that led into the kitchen. I spied a busboy at one of those decorated coffee stations and sidled in beside him.

"Is there a way out of here except through the front door?"

"No. Except for the kitchen door, ma'am."

"I need you to show me that door."

"I can't. We aren't allowed to have customers in the back."

"Please. You see that guy over there picking his teeth with his fingernails?"

The busboy nods and I am not kidding when I tell you that even he cringed a bit at the dental mining going on at the table.

"That is my blind date. I am in hell. YOU MUST HELP ME!!!"

After clearing it with the manager, I was wisked through the kitchen and out to the back lot. It was like highschool all over again. All of the cool kids were out there having a smoke. The manager explained my situation. We all laughed, I lit a cigarette and then I walked to the side of the wall and stared at my vehicle. Bad date would be able to see me if he was looking out the window. Not good. So, one of the cooks volunteers to drive my car around back and the problem was solved.

I called my friend and told her that her sister must be on drugs because that was the worst date I had ever had. What in the world did the little matchmaker think we had in common?

"Well, you were both single." Oh that's rich.

So, three weeks later, I am doing my expenses and see this cell number that I don't recognize. I call it. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Bad date answers and obviously has caller ID.

"So, I lost you that night."

"Um..sorry to bother you. I didn't recognize the number. Doing expenses. Have.To.Go."

"Well, if you'd ever like to go out again, feel free to give me a call."


Yeah, I'll be sure to do that right after I have my brain sucked out through my nose.