I have no idea how to write this post without sounding bitchy. May I tell you about yet another bad date? It’s not that I want to mock this guy. It’s nothing personal. And maybe we can all share a good laugh about it later. We’ll start at the scene of the crime:
I met him at this same pub a month ago, but this was our first date. I soon learn that he’s on a strict regimen of yoga, fat-free foods, and additive-free cigarettes. YUM! Two drinks and 30 minutes later, he says, “Let’s get out of here. I live two blocks away.” What? We just got here.
So I say, “No thanks, guess I’ll go home now.” And here’s where my courteous instincts may have gotten me into hot water — I offer to drop him off. Because he’d walked, and I had my car, and it was a shivery, damp 45° out. And he isn’t a BAD guy. Not at all. Just not the guy for me.
Once we get in the car, he asks if i want to come to his house and have sex. (!!!!!) At first I think (read: hope) he’s joking. So I laugh nervously, “No, no, no.” He assumes that I’ve misunderstood his generous offer, saying, “Wait, no, I mean — make love, or whatever you call it.” At this point, I have no idea what to say, except dude, how hard UP do you think I am?!
Who SAYS that?! What guy says that? You HOPE for that. You crank up some Barry White, you pour some brandy, you ask for a backrub. You give it your best shot, and fair play to you — but buy me two drinks and think I’m going to open up to you in the biblical sense? I think not.
Anyway, the date ended with me using my signature Urlacher head-fake to dodge the gaping cavern of his mouth as he tried to swallow my head/kiss me goodbye. As I said to galpal Ashley afterward, what a waste of makeup.
But at least that’s one more guy in LA whom I know is not for me! According to this article, that means one down, about 500,000 to go.