Went back to Stout last night (fucking surprise surprise) for my date with the friend of Vixen and Gem’s, the guy who apparently bit off “Good Will Hunting” when he first called. Being a super duper legit BLIND date, I wanted to start off with a completely clean slate, so I refrained from asking Vixen and Gem anything about him. Hmm. Not sure how I feel about this now. Any hoot, he asks for my address and I give him the address across the street in attempts to avoid any possible future murders on my part due to the extreme possibility that I may very well blog about this date later on (and yes here I am doing just that). He calls to tell me he’s downstairs to walk with me to Stout, when my dumb ass realizes that “Wait…he’s going to see me walk downstairs and cross the street to say hi…fuck.” With this realization I now confess that, “Oopsies! Hehehe I gave you the wrong address! (Fucking somehow!) I actually live across the street!” (If he doesn’t catch on to this he’s a fucking idiot…)
Out of respect for my good friend Vixen, I know I can’t exactly be…mean when describing him. And, even more so, out of respect for him and the fact that I gave him my blog website at the end of our date (oh yes I did!) I also will refrain from my usual descriptions as to why we did not really hit it off. Hmm…let me strategically ponder this for a sec as to how I will go about writing the rest of this post…um momento. *Insert 3-hour time gap here*
OK he told me to let it all out so here goes: I get downstairs to see two men standing at the foot of the front steps of my building. The first a rather large, obese bald man in a gray Hanes t-shirt, eating a snickers, and leaning against the railing as if a harem of foreign seductresses were about to hand-feed him grapes as they giggled and attempted to speak English, but only knowing the words “Oooh yes yes!” and “oooh la la!” The second guy (I guess in comparison to the first) an extremely skinny blonde guy, hunching forward with his hands in his pocket, wearing a light blue button-up. Having no clue as to which one was PJ and not wearing my glasses to begin with, I sauntered up to the skinny one knowing that this is most likely what a pharmacist getting off work would look like (btw…he’s a pharmacist, which I liked because it meant he wasn’t a fake pretentious asshole in the industry). Vixen had described him as good looking, a gentlemen, and a genius, and, at first glance, I then remember to myself that Vixen and I have very different tastes in men: I like stunningly gorgeous to the point where people wonder if he does anything else but flex and stay pretty and she likes the underdogs who are nerdy and unattractive and get by solely on their personalities and senses of humor. As I think this to myself, I remember to stop being such a shallow, judgmental cunt rag and just go with it; I trusted Vixen enough I guess. And for the record, I blame it on living in Los Angeles. We hug each other hello and immediately I feel a sense of discomfort. Is it me? Am I nervous? I don’t get nervous wtf….Is he uncomfortable or nervous. FUCK. In a regular therapy session, I would call my clients out on this, making note how I’m currently feeling and pointing out how I’m currently noticing them. I refrain from doing so as the last thing I realize I should be doing on dates now is therapatizing, especially when I’m just getting off work.
So we get to Stout and as we’re sitting down, the waitress goes, “Oh my God! I remember you! You’re that girl who had that date here where you broke up with him and he stormed off! (Her referring to my re-breakup date with Wiley) Holy shit! All of us here *now pointing to all the other waitresses and staff currently working* remembered you! We totally all remember that night….!” She begins to trail off as my date comes to sit down from behind her when she whispers, “Ooooh…is this another one of those?? We’d love to hear from you about it later if you can!!” I give her the snicker-nod and I whisper to let her know that I’ll update her and the staff later on if I can and that YES this IS a date please shut the fuck up NOW!
As were sitting and talking, I already know that there is no connection; I can tell within the first 30 seconds of being present with a guy whether or not there is chemistry. There was none. Whatever though, I was thoroughly enjoying his company anyway. We laughed and talked just fine, however, I noticed throughout that there was an air of ingenuity present. I knew somehow I wasn’t being myself (which is usually very easy for me) and realized that maybe he wasn’t being himself either. Turns out, he’s a stand-up comedian. That’s when it dawned on me: it had all felt like a forced comedy routine. At one point he proudly and almost arrogantly says to me,
Him: Oh I’m so offensive to women they usually hate me afterward I’m a real asshole!
Me: (I’m sorry man is that supposed to get me wet?) Wow ya know I haven’t felt offended this whole time *I simply stated with a shrug and a smile*
Him: Well if I haven’t offended you then you OBVIOUSLY haven’t been listening to a damn thing I’ve been saying all night…
Thank you, Miss Vixen. Hopefully he can use this for material. Maybe he won’t even need to, considering he’s a pharmacist.