In true L.A. fashion, a psychic recently told me that it was ok to give up online dating. The sweet release from trying to impress strangers online has been quite a welcome break from getting my hopes up and having them shattered almost immediately, because dudes in L.A. can’t really be bothered to put on pants to meet you. (Not an exaggeration. The amount of athleisure wear, and shorts that I have encountered on a first date would blow your mind, unless you’re a single person in L.A.)
I’ve been doing the online thing since 2011, to varying degrees of success. I’ve had a few relationships out of apps, and whatever, that’s neither here nor there. I was happy to give up the ghost recently because the dates have been middling, nothing exciting and nothing truly terrible. I really love it when they’re truly terrible.
I have this habit of saying yes to everyone who asks me out (or did…) because I look forward to a date being bad probably as much as I look forward to a date being good. I’ve had first dates end in the dude shouting at me as I walked down Sunset Boulevard that I was “the most frustrating goddamned person he’s ever met” because he repeatedly tried to neg me throughout the date, and I was indifferent to his tactics.
I grew up on a mountain in the wilderness, I know danger when I see it (fun fact, I’ve been charged by a bear!) For better or for worse, I’m also a fairly tall lady, typically the same height as my date, so I don’t walk into a situation worried about the outcome for my physical safety which is a luxury I know many women don’t have.
This is all setting the stage for one of the weirdest bad dates I’ve ever been on.
I met this guy online, I couldn’t remember his name if you offered me $1,000 to, which is probably for the best. He was a screen writer from a country I’d been to many times and figured we’d have stuff to talk about. I got there and he was wearing a soccer uniform. He had neither come from practice, nor was going to practice afterwards. This is just what he wore out…ok, cool, made me look a bit overdressed (my pants didn’t have an elastic band on them) but that’s fine.
Within 10 minutes, he was asking me for my home address so he could send me a copy of a movie he worked on, because he had 300 DVDs sitting in his home and he wanted to clear them out. A request I neither asked for or fulfilled, and gently tried to tell him most women weren’t in the habit of giving out their home address to men they just met off the internet. He was highly offended by the implication.
After he took two smoke breaks in 30 minutes, the most beautiful thing happened. He kept biting the palm of his hand, taking a tiny chunk out, and spitting it on the floor. I am not exaggerating. Finally, after the (very) quick realization that this guy wasn’t my future ex-husband, I gave up the ghost, and asked him:
“Why do you keep spitting out chunks of palm meat onto the floor? Are you ok?”
His response? “Well, I went to a spa earlier, and they’re itchy. Thanks for calling attention to it.”
Thanks for calling attention to it. He was the one biting off bits of palm meat and spitting it onto the floor, in public, and I was the one out of line for asking him about it. If you thought I would leave after that, you were wrong. Mainly because I had dinner plans with a friend an hour later across the street, but for whatever reason, I stayed.
I’m fairly sure I did my usual line of “look, this isn’t a match, but I’m already out, so let’s split the check now, and I’m going to keep on drinking. You’re welcome to hang out and do the same” And I’m fairly sure he stayed, because the only other part of the date that sticks out in my mind after the palm meat is that I eventually had my friend whom I was having dinner with meet us both at the bar, because I had openly given up.
Bad dates are fun. This is probably one of my top 5 bad dates of all time (saving number one for if Ted Cruz gets reelected, because we’ll all need a pick me up then and it’s bizarrely spectacular.)
Can you, in the immortal words of Teen Witch, top that?
Share your bad date story in the comments.
Header Image Source: Lucasfilm Ltd.