Thursday, July 01, 2010

date stories

So I've been on quite a few dates over the past several months.

A lot of first dates.

Some are fine, nice enough guys. But I may find them boring. Or self-centered. Or unattractive. Or any combination of the three.

Every now and then I get a real peach, someone to write home about. Oh yeah, the bad date stories.

This one is a doozy, if you've seen me in the past couple of months I've told you about it.

This fine gentleman, who we'll call IT (pronounced eye-tea, as in Information Technology) was introduced to me by There was only one (bad) picture of him, but hey his profile summary was fun and entertaining. What's a girl got to lose?

As I walked into the bar it was fairly simple to identify IT. He looked more attractive than his profile pic. Good. His size however, was not on the profile. Six foot four inches and 350 pounds.

Seriously, this man was two or three of me. I couldn't even reach past his stomach and touch the top of his head standing on tippy toe.

Not being one to judge a book by its cover I brushed off the size difference and we proceeded to the bar. We commenced to the talking and as per norm we broached the topic of employment. You may have guessed by now that this gent works in IT, and he recently started working from home.

The concept of working from home always confounds me. So many distractions, how does anyone get things done? Do you make a schedule? Do you work in your pajamas? Is showering even necessary? Recently two different authors came into the office for a meet and greet, and each of them has a separate cabin/shed that they physically would 'travel' to in order to write. Kind of the setting up a ritual work space.

So I inquired of my above dilemma to IT. How does he approach his day? Does he work all day in his pajamas?

He squirmed. Hesitated. Then said, "Well, erm...less than that."

Confused, I inquired "What do you mean? How much less?" I'm thinking shorts, boxers.

Again he stalls for a minute. Reluctantly he eventually says "A lot less. Nothing."

Being me I don't react much, kind of just take the info in stride. We continue talking about work and such. Or actually I should say he kept talking, the guy went on and on about himself for the entire date. He didn't ask me a question until after I paid the bill. (Yes, you read that correctly. More on that in a bit.)

All this listening afforded me the opportunity to let the newly acquired work wardrobe info sink in. This guy spends all day, every day naked. At home. No clothes, hanging around his apartment.

Did I mention the size of this guy? Someone with that kinda girth is bound to sweat easily. Especially when sitting. So I start to get a visual in my head.

He's still talking, and all I can think of is nasty ball sweat all over his apartment. His couch, any chairs, god forbid a desk chair because you know how those are shaped and there might even be accumulation....


You can very easily tell if I had a good date vs. a bad one by the number of drinks I consume. Two is a bad date. Three is a kinda good date, and more is a guaranteed great time.

My second beer was gone and I asked for the check. It came. And sat there while IT continued to talk.

The bill untouched.

Looking forward to my exit I finally picked up the bill, gave it a once over. Still nodding my head to the conversation I slowly worked my way through my purse for my wallet. Found it. Pulled out cash.

IT still talks on about himself.

Placing the cash in the bill I set it down on the bar. FINALLY at this point IT says "Oh! Was that check just for you?"

I'm thinking "Seriously? C'mon!" But out loud I reply "No. It is for both of us."

To which he replies. "Okay. Did you want some money for that?"

"Nah" I say, dreading the idea of having to wait for him to get out his wallet and figure his share, get my change back, etc etc. "It's all set."

"All right" he says "But that means we'll have to go out again so I can pay."

Now I'm a proud strong feminist. I have no problem splitting a bill, and I've come to accept the cultural norm that a guy pays on the first date. But for the roles to literally reverse??? Me to pay for listening to him go on and on while being tortured with the visual of him lounging naked at home?

No. Hell no.

There was no date two. But I will say that bar bill was worth me being able to tell this story. Right?

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