100 Bad Dates: #46
Date #46 was a walking, talking, devastatingly handsome red flag, right from the beginning. He picked me up in the Women’s Shoes section of a mall department store. I’m not really sure why this didn’t seem odd at the time. I guess I couldn’t see past the good looking, a chronic, life-long affliction for me.
Date #46 was a walking, talking, devastatingly handsome red flag, right from the beginning. He picked me up in the Women’s Shoes section of a mall department store. I’m not really sure why this didn’t seem odd at the time. I guess I couldn’t see past the good looking, a chronic, life-long affliction for me.
He chatted me up right there and won me over with his self-confidence. He told me he was a Navy SEAL, which is supersexy but not all that unusual when you are a San Diego girl. About 1/3 of the single guys in my hometown are in the military. Visions of Tom Cruise in the volleyball scene from Top Gun dancing in your head? False. If anything, most military guys look more Goose (minus the geeky charm) than Maverick. Not this guy, though. He was Iceman, blond hair and all. He told me I was pretty and asked if he could take me to dinner and a movie. I gave him my number, and we made plans to meet that weekend.
I arrived, looking pretty fly for a white girl and wearing my favorite shoes: black Mary Janes with pink cat faces on the toes. He noticed them right away.
“I love those shoes,” he said, “Where did you get them?”
Did he just ask where I bought my shoes?
“Why, do you want a pair?” I said, joking.
“Of course not,” he said, and changed the subject.
All night long he complimented me, but in a strange, non-sexual way. Kind of like a serial killer who wants to wear or eat (rather than fuck) you.
“You have the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen,” he said. “And I’ve seen some really beautiful women.”
That’s a compliment, right? He stared at my face all through dinner. I was uncomfortable but intrigued by his intensity. Was I really this compelling? All signs pointed to “yes.”
Date #46 and I snuggled in close in the theater and didn’t make much smalltalk, as the feature started right away. He held my hand and, periodically, would lean over and whisper, his lips softly touching my ear. It was hot and not. One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone talks during a movie. Still, I knew that he was trying to get me going and, once I gave up on following the story, I was. Parts of me were screaming, “Take me to bed or lose me forever!”
Then, the oddest thing happened.
With no warning he leaned over and whispered, “Wipe that stupid look off of your face.”
It was close, just like the other whispers, and in the same tone. I thought I had misheard.
“Hmm?” I asked, dreamily.
“You have a stupid look on your face. Stop it,” he answered. He immediately went back to sweet nothings, and I tried to convince myself that he had been joking. He HAD to have been joking, right? That’s a negative, Ghost Rider.
Later on during the movie, he leaned over.
“I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” he whispered, and walked out. I watched him leave and contemplated what the heck was going on. I’d been on weird dates, but this one was definitely leaning towards creepy-hot, like a teen vampire movie.
I contemplated. And contemplated. And contemplated some more. Then I realized I had been contemplating for a long time. How long had it been? It was hard to tell in the dark theater. It got less hard to tell a few minutes later when the credits rolled. I couldn’t decide if I should leave or stay. I waited until the clean up crew arrived and started cutting their eyes at me while sweeping the floors. I went and stood outside of the Men’s room, attempting to look nonchalant. After ten minutes there, I came to the sad realization that I had been abandoned.
I slowly walked to my car and saw the empty space where he had been parked. I had never been stood up in the middle of a date before. I drove home, confused.
Date #46 called the next day. He cryptically explained that he had forgotten something he was supposed to do and had to leave the movie in a hurry.
“But I called!” he protested, shocked when I told him that I found his behavior unacceptable, “I’m calling right now!”
I wish I could say that was the end of him, or that was as weird as things got, but it wasn’t. Date #46 came back, for Date #47. And turned the crazy up a notch. Great balls of fire.
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The Checkout Girl
The Checkout Girl is Jennifer Lemons. She’s a storyteller, comedian, and musician. If you don’t see her sitting behind her laptop, check the streets of Richmond for a dark-haired girl with a big smile running very, very slowly.
Notice: Comments that are not conducive to an interesting and thoughtful conversation may be removed at the editor’s discretion.
Bi-Polar much? Wow. I wish I could’ve seen that “stupid look” on your face as you came to the realization that he abandoned you. You’re still alive, so I assume he didn’t try to stab you with a butter knife on date #47. Can’t wait to hear about it.
That “Take me to bed or lose me forever” line never works. Guys don’t like that word “forever.”
Yes, but Leslie: you’re forgetting something important. Guys don’t hear anything in a sentence after “Take me to bed.”
ha ha ha Justin! so true.
I mean maybe you should have wiped the stupid look off your face like he very clearly asked you to do. Dating is about following explicit directions.
I’m waiting with baited breath to hear how #46 became #47.
@Lesley: Guys dislike the word “forever” when preceded by phrases such as “stay with me” or “we’ll be together.”
At any point did he ask you what dress size you wore or if you’d help him but his couch in his van?
I suppose not, unless you write this column from a hole in the ground.
Wow, you went out with him again after this?…was this Latrell Ukrop?
I agree with The Lone Wolf….baited breath…
All of your problems would have been solve had you only wiped the stupid look off your face.
Bated. Bated breath.
Unless you have a worm on your tongue.