This escapade began with a website I’m familiar with and all of you my beloved readers are too. Can you guess which site? Well, I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. The familiar site I speak of is match.com. I know, your shocked (lol).
This gentleman was of the Yankee persuasion. His physical description is as follows: 5’10, chocolate brown hair, slim built, well dressed (black slacks, pale yellow button down tucked in with black belt and shoes).
My first impression, was DAMN. He looks way HOTTER then his pictures! I thought someone needs to take updated pictures of this man. Because he is selling himself short. Let’s just say in this instance, first impressions weren’t a bust for once.
Onward with the actual date. Because y’all want to know more then how he looks. We are at my favorite go to first date spot. The jazzed restaurant I’ve mentioned in many posts.
My favorite waiter and bartender are working. This always makes life better. So he and I sit down at a two person table against the wall. My waiter comes over he’s talking to my date and doesn’t see me at first. Then he turns and sees me, gives me a sly grin. He takes my date’s order and walks off. My date tells me, he forgot to take your order. I tell him don’t worry about it. Our waiter returns with both of our drinks. My date looks at me, the look says how did he know what to bring you? I explain that this is my spot. So everyone knows my likes and dislikes. They certainly know my preference for red wine.
Because as y’all know, I LOVE my wine. We place our order for the kitchen. Then the awkward first date conversation begins…
The normal conversation, ya dee ya. Y’all all know what it is, I won’t bore you with the details.
But he did ask a question that every woman dreads. To any single men reading this post, please DO NOT ask the following question! I’m giving you sound advice that could save the beginning, middle, or end of your future date.
The question: Why are you single?
The question is annoying, invasive, and unnecessary. I’m on a date. My profile says I’m looking for a relationship. I’m obviously not single by choice! Way to rub it in dumbass.
Pause for a moment because just writing the question makes me want to pick up something heavy and throw it! It would be therapeutic. But alas, a new window would be expensive (sigh).
Then he made a comment. I noticed you blink a lot. After this comment he asked a question. The question: Have I ever thought about going to a doctor to have the blinking fixed?
I must have misheard him. So I asked him to repeat the question. No, I didn’t mishear. He actually asked that question. Then he continued with, maybe that’s why I’m still single. Grr
I tried not to flip out at the table. My waiter had shown up just at the right time he heard the question too. He gave me a look. That I can’t believe that idiot said that. I have no pleasant words going thru my mind. So, I excuse myself and go to the restroom.
On the way to the restroom, my waiter tells me no worries I’ll have you’re dessert packaged to go. I return to the table. I start new conversation. I’m hoping we can start new. Everyone deserves a second chance.
Instead of just leaving it be, he brings it back up. He tells me he can’t comprehend why I haven’t looked into it. Why wouldn’t I want to be like everyone else?
Why wouldn’t I want to be normal?
I’d like to take this moment to say that I wear contacts. Sometimes they bother my eyes. It was one of those evenings. I told him this infomation previously. When he began to DIG the hole that is now LARGE and DEEP enough for me to drop his STUPID dead body in.
I start to get up. I had enough. I tell him that it was nice to meet him, but I don’t think that things between us will work out. He grabs my arm when I’m getting my purse. He tells me that’s I’m embarrassing him and to sit back down. Huh, I’m embarrassing him? Is this idiot serious? I’m being gracious. I could make a scene and actually embarrass him. He hasn’t seen anything yet.
I told him I’m leaving. He’s still holding my arm. I grab my glass of red. I tilt it gently enough that it slowly pours down the front of his stupid yellow shirt. He’s shocked speechless and lets go of my arm.
There’s an actual scene for him. I walk past my waiter, he hands me my dessert. I get the hell out of dodge.
I’m on the street waiting for the light to change so I can cross safely. I hear my name in the background. I turn around and I see a wine stained man running towards me. He wants to know why I left? Oh my fucking god, did the wine not say I never want to see you again?! Because I feel like that’s a pretty strong statement.
We have a heated argument on the street. I tell him I want nothing to do with him. The light is about to change, FREEDOM!
He then says let’s start over. Would you like to go out again?
Inner monologue moment: would I like to go out again? What is this guy smoking? Don’t hit him in the middle of the sidewalk with your purse. Too many people will be witnesses. But as long as I have women on the jury or a female judge giving my sentence when I’m booked of assault charges they’ll be lenient. Because they’ll understand why it had to be done. No, no don’t deck him just walk as briskly as possible across the street.
The light changes and I go. I yell across from the safety of the other side, have a nice evening.
Clutching my purse at my side. If he only knew how close he came to being knocked out by a southern bunny on the street.
Tip: Find your local self defense class, and ask for purse self defense. Let’s start a purse revolution!