My first date was October 10, 2017 and it looks like my last date might be November 25, 2017. No, not because I found ‘the one’ or anything like that, but because with this date, I think I might be done with the whole thing. Three guys, a total of four dates, and I’ve completed every one of my objectives, except for the part where I find a guy and fall in love. Or at least like. AT LEAST! Is that asking too much?
Yeah, it happened. And it happened, and it happened, and it happened. If I had any concerns over whether or not I’m a good kisser, the ridiculous succession of kisses ‘laid on me’ by this last guy was enough to convince me I MUST be doing something right. Yay?
It.was.awful. Just horrible. Disgusting and wet and slimy and like he was chewing on my face and trying to swallow my tongue. It’s my tongue, you can’t have it! My mouth was actually DRY after. He had sucked all the saliva out of it!
But to backtrack. Here’s how the evening went. First of all, he texted to say he’d be a half hour late, and then texted again to say he’d be even later, which he was. Finally at 7:45pm he showed up, in a fleece polo and jeans. Which was fine for the pub-esque venue we were at, but in a black sweater, white flared skirt and thigh-high black suede boots all made up, I felt a little overdone.
He sent the waitress away three times, neglecting his menu an had to be prompted by me to actually look at it nearly a half hour into the date. Then he grilled her on salad dressing choices. He didn’t want to pay extra for Caesar salad so he ordered the house salad…with Caesar dressing.
Then there was the conversation. And admittedly, yes, this was the best conversation out of the three, but it was also tricky and slightly condescending. He kept telling me what I SHOULD think and SHOULD do. I mentioned that I was trying to do more strength training at the gym during the winter months because I couldn’t run outside and he told me that I should really be lifting weights directly and not doing other exercises or using machines. Umm, dude, you’re kind of scrawny to begin with, what are you telling me about how to work out?
THEN! Oh, and this gets good. I had mentioned in our text correspondence that I could balance a spoon on my nose. He INSISTED I do this at the dinner table, goaded me by saying if I was too embarassed that he would ask for a spoon from the kitchen himself, AND THEN told the waitress that I didn’t like eating with forks so to bring a spoon as well. THEN, when the spoon didn’t ‘stick’ because it was too heavy and shallow, he teased me, mockingly, saying I was a ‘real disappointment’ and had to make it up to him. Yeah, a real winner.
The evening continued its downward trajectory as he continued to belittle every other thing I said and challenge me on certain points.
He asked if I want to play pool and I had to stop myself from screaming ‘NO’ at the top of my lungs. He took forever to eat his food, and THEN took me up on my offer to pay my half. And it’s not that I mind paying, I do consider myself a feminist, BUT I’m also a little old-fashioned and appreciate a good show of chivalry – and he obviously thought he was so charming.
He also talked about it being easier to go home with a girl, whose parents weren’t conservative and didn’t mind having strangers over in the daughter’s bedroom having sex. Forget about my parents, I’M that conservative. Yeesh.
After he had continued to drone on so that the credit card machine timed out and he blamed the waitress (I tipped her like 40%), he led me to the pool room saying he would test my coordination, which I had claimed was awful.
While he was in the bathroom, I texted my sister to come pick me up in 20 minutes. I was going to give the guy a chance, after all, isn’t that the cliche cheesy thing to do with a girl on a date? ‘Teach’ me how to play pool so he could put his arms around me? But before he could even do that, he told me he was going to test my ‘coordination’ at kissing and came at me.
I accepted. What could I do? There was no way out, and I was still trying to be a good sport. I think maybe I like being ‘cold’ and a snob better. Actually, I’m sure of it. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, it was awful. He kind of closed his lips over mine and slid them together before probing his tongue into my mouth. My eyes were open, WIDE open, the entire time. I did NOT want to be in the moment. I wanted to be anywhere BUT the moment. I kind of tried to do what he was doing and move my lips and tongue in a similar fashion but it went on FOREVER. Finally, FINALLY, I broke it off and asked him how my ‘coordination’ was, and that he needed to hurry up and teach me pool before I had to go. Such a coquette. He kept ‘sweeping’ me up, and grabbing my waist.
At one point he even cupped my face and asked me if I knew that my eyes were the same colour as my hair. First of all…its a wig. Second of all, my eyes are hazel and heterochromic, meaning they’re green in the middle. So my hair is green? Gee thanks.
He was NOT great at pool. And having never played it more than once, he only beat me by a point – and that was with me not even trying to play seriously.
My dad ended up being the one to pick me up, and his parting words to me? ‘It’s a shame its not your sister, I guess there’s not going to be a goodbye makeout sesh. SESH? SESH?? You bet your ass there isn’t going to be a goodbye makeout sesh. Thank God it was my father, who looked homeless as he was wearing car-repairing clothes and is growing out his beard for Movember, which makes him look completely homeless and shady.
Ewww. I rolled down the car window once we were gone and spit out of it. There were sandwich crumbs in my mouth and I wasn’t the one who ordered a sandwich.
So…first kiss experience was a bit of a nightmare, but what else should I expect given how fabulously everything else has gone?
There’s a post-date video blurb below that gives you the immediate aftermath details. I warn you, it gets ugly.
But you want to know the real kicker? HE HASN’T EVEN CALLED! Nothing, two and a half days later. NADA. You think after everything that he got out of the date, he’d be MORE than eager to continue. Was it that I was easy? That I let him kiss me on a first date? Honestly, I feel a little roughly treated. And my mouth is still sore from the sting of Listerine in a mouth scrubbed raw. I’ve also felt dizzy, achy and nauseous since then so I think I might have picked something up. The way I feel, it might as well be an STD.
The next day I went to two church Christmas sales, so I drowned my sorrows in an entire carrot cake and about 5 lbs. of shortbread. At this rate, I’ll just pity-eat all the weight back and then I won’t need to worry about guys wanting to kiss me. How do I groan dramatically through a keyboard.
But, now I’ve been on a date. Now I’ve been kissed…Now I can begin my life of spinsterdom. It has never felt so good to stay in on a weekend night, alone in my pajamas with a plate of shortbread at my side. I think it might be love.
UPDATE: He texted back…and he mentioned the spoon trick again. Now where oh where am I thinking of putting that spoon?