Monday, March 8, 2010
Match Post #2: Beware of the bottomless glass, and has anyone seen my chicken cutlets?!
It is time, once again, to revisit match.com in a new "match post"! Yayayayay! Try to contain yourself. I've been on match several times so it will take me, at the very least, a few weeks/months just to catch this blog up to my present-day dating nightmares. This is yet another cautionary tale of a first date gone awry, are you noticing a theme yet?
His username name was retardo1. That should have given me a clue, but what can I say? The dude was hot. He had dark brown hair and light blue eyes. This happens to be my favorite combo. It makes me weak at the knees, and apparently act like a total nimrod.
This was sometime in the late winter/early spring of 2008; I had been on match.com for a few months since I'd moved out from my ex's apartment. So, I'd been scoping out "retardo"1 and he"d finally emailed me. After a little small talk, he'd cut right to the chase and asked me out for that Friday night. I hadn't been on too many dates since the breakup yet, so I was oddly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. about the whole thing On Friday, he texted me:
"Date Night! ;-)"
I thought that was cute. He called that afternoon, as he said he would, and told me we had a reservation at a place just south of Houston St. He suggested that we meet at the place around the corner first for drinks. Said they had a "fun" drink list. That should have triggered caution in me but, like I said, at the time, I still was not jaded yet from 2 and a half years of the dealing knee-deep in dick heads that I have endured since.
This story isn't pretty. It doesn't paint me in the most appealing light. I'm not going to sugar coat the night's events... I learned a shit-ton of lessons from retardo1... and so, at the prospect of sounding like a total naive hoe-bag, I'll continue. I will, however, preface this by reiterating that I had just gotten out of a 6 year relationship. I really had no business even trying to date but my heart was so severely in pain, I was just grasping for ways to comfort it. A self-admitted serial monogomous who had gone through life jumping from long-term boyfriend to long-term boyfriend, I really did think that I was just going to find my next "victim" right away like I had done so many times in the past. Sadly, of course, in my naivete, I failed to account for the city in which I was living: The Island Where Women Go to Die Alone!
I wore my favorite first date dress...a mod-print stretchy velvet halter (sounds so much uglier than it actually is!) Its my old stand by. At the time I had lost a considerable amount of weight due to the "heart break diet". Unfortunately, the first place that I tend to lose weight is in my chest. SO not fair considering the first place I gain it is in my ass! At any rate, I decided to enhance my decolletage with my trusty bra-inserts, also known as "the chicken cutlets", a decision I would live to regret. A decision that lives in infamy... well, with me and my girlfriends anyways.... but one that always elicits a chuckle.
I walked into the appointed "fun" drink destination and was pleasantly surprised that retardo1 was as hot as his pictures. He was, of course, at least an inch shorter than the 6'0 his profile listed, but that had long become a given. Either way, very hot, very kissable= me, very happy... at that point. Immediately, I was handed the "fun" drink menu. Now, normally I don't tend to stray far from chardonnay. At the very most, I'll partake in a few bloodies over brunch or margaritas with my mexican, but normally, I'm your run-of-the-mill white wine kinda girl. I'd stopped drinking hard alcohol shortly after college, for the most part. I should have listened to my gut. The tricky part about dating, especially 1st dates, ergo BLIND 1st dates, is that you are already nervous. Having a plethora of fruity strong drinks slung at your disposal is the immediate yet not recommended fix... but one that most men will encourage. Remember, they will typically weigh a LOT more than you, let them have a "Double Wicky Wacky Woo".... trust your gut and stick with what YOU know... this night taught me that lesson.
I succumbed to the peer pressure of retardo1 and the "fun" drink bartender and picked something off the outrageously long list. Of course it was garnished with something outlandish. He ordered me another before I had yet finished the first. This is warning #1: He is trying to get you drunk. Never let them order for you. They should ask you if you would like another.
After finishing our 2nd fruity-yet-hard beverages in record time, we rushed off for our dinner reservations. A cute little neighborhood Italian place where he knew the entire staff. Clearly he was a regular, "Oh, you live around the block?" Hmmm, interesting, I lamented, through the haze of my syrupy pre-dinner refreshments. Note: something else I learned from this very date (yes, though his name was retardo, I did learn so much from him... but only what not to do!) Never meet them in THEIR neighborhood. Not only should they come to YOU, or at least meet in the middle, but it makes you easy target for all the asshole pricks out there who use sites like match.com just to try and get girls drunk and take them back to their apartments!
His little ploy worked all too well for him..... "muah ha ha". I'll explain. At dinner, which was amazingly scrumptious, (nothing like some good Italian eats) we were getting along so swimmingly. I really did feel a connection, which isn't hard to do when you have a bottomless glass of chardonnay (yes, NOW, I'd switched to my old stand by, oh boy) at the ready. He was ordering them, once again, before I was even done with the last. Unfortunately, I didn't keep track, as the waiters poured and poured, but I was having fun, liking him and feeling great! At one point, I recall fondly, it will be the only thing I'll really recall fondly about retardo1; he got up to use "the john" and bent down and kissed me on the forehead. " Wow, he was really liking me!!" READ: really wanting to get into my pantaloons!! Players are so smooth when they need to be.
We went to a club afterwards. Now that I think about it, it seemed more like a make-out haven... a virtual den of iniquity, if you will. Picture a very dark narrow room of strobe lights and swanky, synthesized music where couplings of people were sitting atop tall, chrome stools that aligned the walls on either side... & all totally going at it!!! At one point I looked around and literally every place I turned I saw couples playing tonsil hockey! " If you can't beat them, then join them" was clearly my motto... as I planted one on retardo1. He was a great kisser, I remember that.... it is, however, about the last thing I remember from the evening with him.
There's a big window lurking above and a grey burst of dismal rainy morning "light" shining through, this, I can see through the little crusty slits that were my eyes that next morning. Ouch, my head. Where am I?? Think, Sarah. Okay, I was kissing retardo1 at that club... I'm at his apt.... on his living room sofa.... with my dress around my waist, leggings still intact!!! (You've gotta love tummy control liquid leggings... they are the chastity belt of the modern era!!) I sat up, wondering where retardo1 was and a bit chilly, you know- what with my chest exposed. What is that weird feeling on my back?? My chicken cutlets had nessled perfectly into place on my back... the heat of my skin crushing them had caused them to perfectly mold to my bone blades! They were literally stuck!! OMG, retardo1 must've discovered them as he slid into second base!!!!!! Where is he now?! Time for damage control. (And, now my back ta-tas were bigger than my front ones, OOOH the Horror!!!!!)
I found a skinny winding staircase just to the left of the sofa. ("Found" might not be the right terminology... this is New York City, so "stumbled over after standing up from the couch" is more like it!) I climbed the stairs.... literally had to climb them. They were like a spiral scary ladder to nowhere and not what I needed after the night of imbibing that I'd had! It lead me to his bedroom, or like they say on MTV cribs "the place where all the magic happens".... you know, except when your date passes out with her fake boobs stuck to her back and all.
"What happened?" I asked him as I sat down on his bed next to him. His room wreaked like stinky, smelly sleeping boy. Girls, you know what I mean!!~ Its alright to deal with that when you are actually laying asleep next to them all night, but to stumble upon that stench with a huge hangover.... I nearly tossed my Biscotti!!
"You passed out while we were kissing" he said bitterly. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I said... he quickly got up. He now, ever-so- conveniently, had a breakfast date planned with his brother that he had to rush off to. He washed his face, threw on a tee shirt with some sort of chauvinistic undertone and we began to part ways.
As I was gathering my things, I mentioned something about my match profile, to which he promptly replied "I never actually read those things. I only go on there when I have nothing to do for the weekend and am bored."
Oh, okay then prick. I was growing increasingly more exhaulted in the fact that he'd shelled out a cool $250+ to get me good and drunk and didn't even get to reap the benefits of his constant flow of my $12 chardonnays. Don't get me wrong, I take full responsibility for my drunkard self that night... but he really made it easier than it should be.
We exited his apartment and as we walked outside and into the musty chill of the morning, I realized I'd left my FAVORITE black hat up in his apartment, one that I never saw again and it's really the only thing that makes me sad about this date.
What I did take away with me, aside from my favorite black hat of ALL TIME, is that
A. make sure that you are not meeting the gentleman on his turf. This gives him an unfair advantage, and they should always have to travel a bit to see you anyway, it is only fair. We all have busy lives.
B. if it seems like he's trying to get you drunk by ordering drink upon drink upon drink for you, he probably is! Take heed and STOP the madness before it is too late. Interrupt him when he's saying "she'll have another" with a nod to the waiter, "yes, I'd actually like a ginger ale please". I've learned ginger ale is SO yummy from the tap!!
So, thank goodness retardo1 was not an axe murderer, I'll give him credit for that.
It is very sad when that is the guy's only up side!
Posted by Sarah at 1:50 PM