Believe it or not, I rallied up the courage to attempt another first date..status-post med student debacle. (pray for me jesus) Not by my own accord though. The date happened thanks to a few girlfriends who pushed me off the cliff and reminded me that I am brave, I am capable, I am an adult...and, most importantly, I have nothing to lose by saying 'yes'...
Immediately the vibe changes. I am all smiles, eyelashes flapping, hair swinging...maybe a little over the top...but whatev...there are real live boys and I am feeling drunk!
anyways, let's focus....I met a relatively good-looking guy, who tolerated a shit-show performance by my friends, has a master's degree in Engineering from a pretentious University ($$$), and didn't flinch when I immediately told him "I have tattoos, sometimes I smoke, my bra and panties do not match, and I am psycho" (look I was still in pain from the med student...). We exchange phone numbers and that is that.
A few days later Mr.Engineer shoots me a text, a cute..witty..semi-dorky text:
"Your mission is to come.....to City Beverage in Durham, tomorrow at 7. And be ready to have fun"
....so that is cute, right? I accept...after, like I said,....being peer-pressured by my friends...because to be honest...once I sobered up... I was rather hesitant about going out with another stranger who could potentially sucker punch my ego and/or chain me up in a basement somewhere Amanda Berry style.. (too soon?)
Fast forward to 7pm sharp....I am standing outside the restaurant/bar...when Mr. Engineer walks up and immediately I understand the magical workings of 'drunk goggles.' That really awesome, cute guy I thought I met was actually Corey Matthews from Boy Meets World....
Right off the bat I am in physical pain because I hate looking at him. I know that sounds so horribly awful but it actually hurts my eyes when I have to look at this big cheesy grin and horrible shoes for longer than 4.6 seconds. But I calm myself down and just gooo wiithhh the floowww....(this is hard for me). I also, right off the bat, tell him that I have plans of meeting friends downtown that night at 10pm..so that he would know that this date would end here. There will be no drunken sex, there will be no anything. Date terminated from the beginning....I was being proactive! Go Me!
We take a seat at a table and it's all weird and I feel like a nervous idiot so I fumble around and try to order alcohol as soon as humanly possible...which I do. You know what else I do, I judge guys on what they order to drink. This actually is a deal breaker for me and typically I like to order my drink first to set the bar so that he can gauge where to go from there. I go straight for a double IPA because I am not playin around here...I am sitting across the table from Mr.Feeny's neighbor and I need to be properly sedated for this. He proceeds to order....a....mother effing cider. MMMM, I love cider!!!! But I also shed my uterus lining once a month and I think that The Notebook is a great movie. So, I am judging right now. Hard core.
Beers arrive, and I'm still therapeutically talking to the voices in my head, encouraging them to stay calm and be open to whatever the fuck could blossom from this nightmare...
"So, Marissa, Tell me...when was the last time you felt really comfortable?"
(uhhhh...................)
......
.........
..........
no really....what...did...you..just...ask...me? when was the last time I felt comfortable? how about that night when i blacked out on rumpleminze in my bed, with all of my cats, and a bag of empty chips under my pillow? that was comfortable, weirdo.
"So, Marissa, tell me about what you like to do for adventure?"
I excuse myself to the bathroom and I sit down in a chair and I just close my eyes...I open my eyes, look up to the heavens...and I shed a single tear...for my life..
"So, Marissa, (Honest to God, he started every statement this way) are you financially responsible? I can't date a girl who isn't financially responsible"
AM I FINANCIALLY RESPONSIBLE? ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING ME THIS ON A FIRST DATE? ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT? WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOUR PARENTS? I WOULD LIKE TO MEET YOUR MOTHER AND KARATE CHOP HER IN THE FACE FOR RAISING SUCH A FUCKING WEIRDO, LAME SON....so, being the sarcastic biotch that I am I respond with...
"I like to spend money...and I like guys with money, that's financially responsible..."
"Yeah, but you don't spend more money than you have, right?"
"Oh of course, if I had to pick between buying shoes and food, I would pick shoes."
...heh
___
at this point I am ready to go. fast....down I-40...far far away from this. I am so uncomfortable it hurts. I had physical symptoms of pain in response to this conversation that wouldn't ever stop.
The check comes and he kindly pays for it and suggests that we go to the bar side of the joint and shoot pool....I am sometimes, shockingly, polite so I agree. We go around and he states.. "you buy the beers because I just had to pay for the food" (umm...actually you didn't have too...and don't tell me what to do...and I would have bought the beers anyways because I'm a down ass bitch like that...and the judging continues..)
When I say that we played pool....I mean we played pool. As in a fucking game of pool. Like I was one of his nerdy ass, computer coding, mathematics loving guy friends... It was not cute, or flirty...he didn't make me laugh or try to 'teach' me how to play. (which ps...the med student the week before had already taught me how to play pool...so at least I was prepared)
It was lame. It was boring...and I beat him. I beat his ass at pool and it was shameful, and I was happy because It was time to dip the hell out. I chug my beer and explain to him that I needed to head on out down the road to meet my friends...like I warned him...
"I mean, do you have to meet your friends or do you want to meet your friends? I was thinking you could come back to my place and watch a movie"
(I would rather drown in bile than go to his house and watch a movie)
Look here, buddy....I told you. So I finally (!!!!) make my way out of the restaurant and he then flippin asks me to drive him across the street to wear he is parked. (why can't this date just END!!!!!!) I say yes, because I am not that big of an asshole (haha, yeah I am..)
We pull up to his car...and the sneaky goon pop kisses me. But in slow motion....with these big, sloppy, platypus lips...coming at me...I tried to turn my face quickly...but didn't quite make it so he got half my mouth and a lot of cheek. It was revolting. And it looked just like this....
....................................................................................................................
Needless to say, my friends, there hasn't been a second date. And I don't quite know where to find the silver-lining in this experience...it was fucking horrible.
I guess...what I learned from this experience:
1. The more first dates you go on, the better practice you have.
2. Drunk goggles are tricky mother fuckers.
3. Corey Matthews is a freak.
4. My bank account has like $8.00 in it, so I therefore am not financially responsible
5. Bring wet naps, towels, and antibacterial spray with you on first dates...in case you get face raped in your car accidentally by an engineer in flannel.
6. I need to subscribe to match (dot) com....
-Riss
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