So, I've been dating quite a lot here in Texas. Why? Because dating is hilarious. It's not fun- believe you me, nothing about a first date is fun- but no matter what, it's hilarious. Even if it's a good date, there are bound to be some quirky moments. I was just texting with my friend Rebecca about how I can't get into a relationship because then there wouldn't be any more hilarious date stories, and she said "you should start a blog." And I thought, I already have a blog! I just never write in it. But, hilarious dates should make for a hilarious blog post, so here goes.
Bachelor #1: Dracula the rocket scientist
*Bachelor #1 is from Romania. He moved here in the 6th grade, yet still sounds very much like a vampire when he speaks.*
My first date with Dracula took place at sunset on the lake. I had plenty of time to look at said lake while I was waiting for him, as he was approximately (did I say approximately? I meant exactly) eight minutes late. I was five minutes early. My math skills tell me that 8+5=13, so I had 13 minutes to awkwardly divide my stares between the lake and my phone while waiting for him.
Strike one: lack of punctuality.
After he arrived, I noticed he didn't *quite* look like his photos. I'm guessing they're several years old, from a time when he was slightly more fit. Now, he wasn't unfit, just not the ironman participant promised in his photos. Who am I to judge fitness? No one, you're right, however, don't promise me juicehead-like muscles, and then deliver with normal guy man-boobs.
Strike two: misrepresentation
We go in and order our drinks. It's a fairly hoppin' coffee shop, so we had to wait a few minutes before we ordered. These few minutes consisted of him, telling me all about this thing he's inventing. There were a lot of details. When I told him I basically had no idea what he was talking about, he laughed and continued. I'm not an engineer. I don't know anything about anything that you're saying. But this wasn't a huge strike, as I'm chocking it up to nerves. The next strike? We order and he says: "Do I get to pay?"
Strike three: Do you get to pay? Is it an award? Well then, congratulations! Indeed you do GET to buy my $1 iced tea. You win the prize!
We then move to a table down along the water. It's quite the romantic scene. As the sun is setting he awkwardly stares at my face. Hard. Core. Stares. As in memorizing my features, and not in the cute dramatic-movie-moment kind of way. I must've looked at him strangely because then he says: "I'm trying to figure out how much make up you have on." Now, I do love make up, probably more than your average Jane, but when it comes to my everyday look, there's not all that much make up involved. I love mascara quite a bit, but otherwise I probably wear the same amount or less make up than most face-paintin' women. So I respond, after a pause, with: "...Would you like me to tell you?" And he said YES. YES! He said yes. So I tell him I'm wearing eyeliner, mascara, a little powder, and some blush. What? Why the hell do you want to know that! Friggin' weird.
Strike four: Friggin' weird.
He also felt the need to remind me that he was on his best behavior. He also told me that he had yet to look at my boobs! Well, great job! You're a great date. You're not ogling my assets. I really appreciate it. While we're on this vein, he and I briefly discussed Texas. Because that's where we live. I said one of the first things I did in Austin was I bought myself a pair of sweet cowboy boots. He looks under the table to see them, and I said "Oh I'm not wearing them tonight, these are different boots." Now, the boots in question have a VERY small heel. They're beautiful brown leather, and they go to the knee. They're not slutty. They're quite respectable, I think. Also I had pants on, so I wasn't even rocking the high boot/miniskirt combo. No, my body was fully covered with clothing, unlike my face which was *not* fully covered with make up. He looks at the boots and says: "Oh, you're wearing come fuck me boots."
No. He didn't say that!
Except that he did.
I responded with "Well, I certainly hope that's not the promise they're making, because the chances of that happening are not so good."
Strike five: Rude make up + conservative slutty boots
We briefly discussed how I basically asked him out.
Here's how it went: we'd been talking once a week or so, online. Finally I say to him: "Are you going to ask me out ever? Because I'm getting bored of talking online." He, slightly taken aback, admits he has no idea where to take me on a date. I suggest coffee, he picks a place.
Back to the date itself. He decides he should tell me that he was really never going to ask me out. Apparently a girl like me wouldn't go out with him, and he was perfectly content to just talk online. What? What the hell is that? Lame. Yet strikingly accurate! A girl like me never should've gone out with him.
At the end of the date, I said 15 hail Mary's to keep him from touching me in any way. He asked for a second date, and I said "er... you've got my number!" He also asked if he'd been friend-zoned. Who asks that? You'd have to be a friend to be in the friend zone. You're dead-zoned.
Instead of using my number to ask for date #2, he decided to send me another message online. In this message, he asked me for a second date idea. So... you choose not to use my phone number, like a normal boy, and instead send me a message asking me to plan the second date. Uh. No. I respond saying that I'm not interested in a second date but I appreciate his asking. I think that's the end.
But no! He waits around a week, and then sends the following message: "had an epiphany: what are the chances you just wanted to f*ck?"
Yes, you read that correctly. Go ahead, read it again. It's worth a re-read.
I couldn't help myself- instead of just blocking him, like a normal adult, I had to respond. It was just too good! Who thinks to themselves "well, she doesn't want to go on a second date... but maybe sex isn't out of the question!"
No one. Normal people don't think that way. Even Count Chocula knows that things don't work that way. So, I respond saying "Are you asking if that's what I was interested in all along, or are you propositioning me?" And his respond is "a little bit of both."
I have no idea what I did on this date that would make him think I was there for sex. Maybe it was all of the not touching that we did. Not touching *screams* sex.
On opposite day.