Sometimes YOU Are the Asshole
“That's the third time you've called me a broad tonight,” she declared… She went on: “I'd appreciate that if you didn't do that, it's not really a compliment to me…” And that's how that date went. You could literally start and finish with that line to know what happened.
A cute gal off the OkCupid and I started talking and set a time and place to meetup for the date. We were out and about in Silverlake at a nifty joint called ‘Barbarella.' Decent food, good drinks; not terribly busy. It's a good spot to grab a date for a drink and do some “getting to know you” type conversation for sure.
You know how you talk to your single friends, they tell you about a date they went on and their date was a fucking goddamned lunatic? They talked about how they like to fuck, how they are into strange fetishes, or reincarnation. Weird shit like that and you think, “Wow, Mary, stop dating such terrible people.” They never tell you that THEY were the shitty one on a date, do they? Well, it happens. Sometimes WE are the shitty people on a date; we're the one who sucks and will be the story that your date tells their friends about and those friends will raise an eyebrow and lament at the apparently shitty choice your date made in going out with you…
I was the asshole this night, folks.
Let me explain. It's not often that I'm on a date with a pretty woman, but it does happen with some regularity. I don't know what it was, kids, but for some reason I was nervous about this date. It wasn't anything she said or did, but I was just nervous. I had a drink before she showed up, a Hendricks on the rocks and that “evened” me out pretty well in no time at all. My date arrives and we had decent conversation… Decent.
I'm going to go on a limb and say there just wasn't any chemistry, but if there was, I was doing my darnedest to torpedo that shit right then and there. No second dates for me… That should have been my battle cry. Avoiding eye contact, asking question upon question upon question, LOOKING AT MY FUCKING WATCH, and, yeah, calling her a “broad” three times.
Even when our date ended, I didn't even offer to walk her to my car, I simply wanted to Get the Fuck Out and take my fail with me.
What the fuck, Alex?
The watch and the broad comment both happened within minutes of each other. I felt bad. I wasn't bored or anything, it's just convo had died and it was time to put this date out of its misery for my date and for me. Now, I didn't have a miserable time. I actually did enjoy my time with my date, but my mind was everywhere but where it needed to be. Not sure why. I mean, the following week I went on a date that went much differently… But that's another post.
I'd like to reach out and offer my date an apology for my apparent raging douchey-ness, but I think I'll just move on, learn a lesson and try again. But if said gal ever does happen on this blog, to this post, just know that I'm sorry that I was the asshole that night.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
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