My beloved readers, I’m going to start this post off with a description. Because I’m jumping right into this one. The only background that is of any interest to this gentleman is that he asked me out via Facebook and that we went on a first date which was lack luster, but not awful. So I decided to give him another try.
Description: 5’10, runner physique, dark hair (cut was part military, part Justin Bieber), northern accent, business owner, and loves to travel. His nickname will be stir fry for the duration of his post. You’ll understand why when you read.
Stir fry invited me to his house for our second date. He wanted to cook for me. I didn’t get any red flags from our first date. I thought why not. I do love a man who cooks. He also mentioned on our first date that he’s not a fan of kissing until the third date. Once he has gotten to know the person better.
Inner Monologue Moment: Hmmm… that’s a little peculiar. But kinda chivalrous/sweet. I can hold out til date three. I’m a lady after all.
I arrive at his home. His house looks like a single man lives there. He has mowed the grass. But unkept nothing else. I enter his home. It looks like he’s still unpacking. The dining room table still has plastic on it. But I will say his home was squeaky clean. There was toilet paper in the bathroom! It’s the little things y’all.
He informs me he’s going to make me his specialty. It is, stir fry. He’s gotten everything. Stir fry has made sure everything is gluten free. I’m giving him points. He has listened to me.
He starts to tell me about his most recent trip, to Iceland. Okay so let me sum his travel up for all of you. He’s living every travelers dream. He travels, when and where he wants. Owning his business affords him this luxury. Am I jealous? Hell yes! I want to live that life!
Then he began to inform me as to why he takes things so “slow”. Apparently the last woman he was involved with moved herself into his home. After one week… Yes you read that correctly. ONE WEEK. She got a dog. She told him it was the beginning of their family.
Inner Monologue Moment: Pushover much?
Oh my fucking Christ. Are you serious? Move in and dog in a week? He officially found one of the crazy ones. She makes women everywhere look bad. I understand that he was a bit traumatized by her. But it took him two years to get his groove back. Two years oh my. That’s quite a break there…
He’s cooking his famous stir fry as we are chatting. He offers me wine. Stir fry is so excited for me to try his masterpiece. I’ve noticed during the process of cooking that he’s used almost the entire bottle of soy sauce. It’s not my kitchen, so I’m trying not to say anything. But shit, a bottle is a lot! He’s dancing around, way too excited about his signature dish.
He’s plated, we are seated at the plastic covered dining table. I take a bite. All I taste is pure salt. I can not taste vegetables, rice, meat nothing. Just salt. He’s smiling across from me gobbling it up.
At this point I think…
Inner Monologue Moment: Should I suck it up? I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He did cook for me after all. And he’s so excited. But every time I take a bite it’s like I just ate a handful of salt. Should I tell him? I mean the sodium in this bowl alone might give him a heart attack…
Then of course my beloved readers it’s me so… I tell him that I ate before hand. I was still really full. I just can’t eat anymore at the moment. Yes, I know. It was a cop out. But I just couldn’t bring myself to break his little stir fry heart.
As we are making conversation. He brings up coffee. So of course I begin to speak of my elixir of life and the establishment where I receive it. Stir fry informs me that the only way to drink coffee is black. I inform him that I can not drink my elixir that way. My peeps know my drinks and how I like them. They all involve some sort of addition. Stir fry then proceeds to down on my elixir of life establishment. Saying that I’m supporting the man. And should support local like he does.
Inner Monologue Moment: First mistake, telling me how to drink my elixir. Second mistake, downing on my favorite establishment. Third mistake, assuming I don’t also support local. This stir fry bitch better shove some more salt in his mouth. So he’ll speak less.
I inform him that I too support local. But I still love my establishment. He then proceeds to take out his phone. Ummm, how rude! He says he’s looking up the calorie count.
Inner Monologue Moment: I’m sorry, what did you say? I must have misheard you. Maybe the excess of salt has affected his brain chemistry.
He then shows me how many calories are in the syrup that makes my beloved elixir. Like I fucking care. This stir fry bitch needs to stop while he’s ahead.
Then he explains that if he drank one of my drinks that he’d have to do a certain amount of hours at Pure Barre. When he says that I think food. Like a bar, sweetened with honey or something. That’s when he informs me it’s an exercise class. Whoops, my bad. So for any of you who were unaware as to what Pure Barre is I’ll give you a brief summary. It’s a form of exercise that combines ballet & yoga. Generally women take this class…
He tells me that since he’s been at his location since they opened that they allow him come. But generally women don’t feel comfortable with men in class. No one feels threatened by him…
Stir fry then suggests that I should come to a class. I can work off the elixir I consume.
Inner Monologue Moment: This stir fry bitch is on my last fucking nerve. He needs to shut his pure coffee drinking mouth. Because I’m close to shoveling some salt down it for him. Also how many calories are there in an entire bottle of soy sauce? Uh huh. That’s right.
I told him I go to yoga. He then asks where I go. He knows all the instructors. Stir fry says he can give me tips. That’s when I broke. I told him thanks, but I’m good.
Inner Monologue Moment: What does he think? That we are going to work out and go drink coffee after? The chances of that died. As soon as he said I need to work off my beloved elixir of life.
Stir fry realizes that I’m not in the best mood. So he changes the subject. He hasn’t even noticed that he has not really given me an opportunity to speak. His topic change is to, camping.
And not regular happy camping. Camping in the middle of nowhere. With an sixty pound pack, a 30 mile hike up, camp site covered in rocks and snow. He has to inform the rangers of where he’ll be and when. Because if he doesn’t come back they have to send search and rescue out. SEARCH AND RESCUE!!!!!! Fuck that shit. A sixty pound pack is half of me!
I didn’t even answer. I just said that’s great. Is there any more wine? He goes to refill my glass. Can’t refill a wine glass in the middle of fucking nowhere, with a sixty pound pack, and fucking snow. Nope wine does not live in the middle of nowhere. So I can not live there.
I tell him I’ve got to go. Work in the morning. He takes me thru the garage. He wants to show off his toys. I don’t care. I just want to get out. I walk thru a spider web. Fuck! Can the night get any worse? I’m shaking, dancing, yelling trying to get it off me. He says hold on he’s got it. He comes back and I’m turning around all I see is a can. But as I open my mouth to say no. It’s too late. Bug spray in my face, in my mouth. I’m now coughing/choking. I scream out, “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
He’s surprised. He says, he was just trying to help. This is where I wish I had a little angry red emoji face in real life. Then he’d understand how pissed I am. I grab my purse and stomp out.
He follows, ugh…
He walks me to my car. Doesn’t open the door. I’m in, he then tells me to be careful not to back out over his grass. Fuck his grass. I pull out, but somehow one wheel ends up on his grass. Then another one does. Whoops. It’s the spider trauma I’ve just suffered. It’s difficult for me to drive in this state. The bug spray is responsible for my actions.
Saying: I don’t need an app that tells me how many calories I’ve burned. I need one that tells me how many cupcakes I’ve earned.