A Date-A Story

12 Nov

So I agreed to a date with this guy I met off the internet.  I truly don’t know why I still try internet dating.  Am I a masochist?  Maybe.  Do I enjoy meeting men who have such severe mommy issues that they go on dates with women and proceed to tell life stories, and I sit and listen to it KNOWING it will make a great fucking story for you all?  Most definitely.

There were definite red flags before I even met up with this guy, hmmm…Fish.  (An obvious play to the last guy I will ever meet on that particular dating website).  I received a very long e-mail from him as a way of introduction, and in the e-mail he managed to point out that he decided to write a well thought out e-mail, where he is sure everyone else probably writes me very generic e-mails.  He also had in there an ode to my beauty…I shit you not.  This, I had decided, could be a most interesting date.  I wrote him back, gave him my phone number, and told him I was free the following Friday, and would like to have a drink with him.  Really, why waste the time exchanging e-mails?  Let’s just jump into this train wreck head first, shall we?  Of course, I gave my phone number.  Now, I sat back and I waited.

The next day I received a text message confirming our date for Friday.  The, he asked if I would be able to pick him up.  Excuse me? He went on to explain that his 77 something-or-the-other (I could give a shit…cars don’t impress me) was in the shop, and would not be done in time.  Oh, this just gets better and better. Of course, I replied.  I will pick you up at seven.

Seven on the nose, because I am nothing if not punctual, I pulled up in front of his sister’s house where he is staying.  I honked the horn, because I will be DAMNED if I get out of my car and walk up to the door.  In all rights, he should be doing that at my house.  I am not doing that at his.  Thank god for him he took the hint, because I would have driven away.

OK, so in all honesty, not bad-looking.  Dark hair, slender, taller than me, which is always a plus.  He did not have blue eyes, which is a strike in my book.  Fish did not disappoint…15 minutes into the date the douchebag gene reared its ugly head.  One, when the waitress brought our beers, I had to pay for my own.  STRIKE TWO!  (Or, strike three…I had to drive, he had brown eyes, and I had to pay for my own beer.  What a fuck-tard.)  He went on to explain how he makes a phenomenal boyfriend.  I am not shitting you.  He looked me in the eyes and said ‘I can tell you have been hurt.  A lot.  And you have NO IDEA how lucky you are I walked into your life.  None.’  As he said this, he was wagging his finger in my face, like your mom does when she catches you in the act of lying.  I just stared at him.  I was speechless.  He asked if I wanted another drink, I said no.  I made up an excuse, told him it was time for me to leave and I needed to drop him off.

During the drive back to his place he kept telling me how fortunate, how lucky I was he decided to e-mail me.  I wisely kept my mouth shut, trying to live by the ‘if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all’ adage.  I pulled up to his place, put my car in park, did not turn it off, and said ‘Nice to meet you, Fish.’  He then proceeded to try to molest me.  I don’t drive a small car.  I drive a large SUV.  So it’s not like it was a small lean towards me to kiss me.  It’s a huge gap between me and my passenger.  So out of the corner of my eye I see this guy taking a flying leap toward me.  I yell out and put my hands up to cover my face.  I still had my seatbelt on, so opening the door and running wasn’t much of an option.  This guy was FAST.  His hand wrapped around my seat and flattened the back so I was laying down.  Lucky for me, I am pretty strong, and I managed to push him off of me.


His response?  Well, you don’t know unless you try.

Get the fuck out of my car.  Don’t call me.  And by the way…you would have been the lucky one.

Yeah…internet dating and I are calling it quits.  Fuck these guys.

Love, Esme


One Response to “A Date-A Story”

  1. ifUseekAmy November 15, 2010 at 11:15 am #

    Holy shit-bags! I can’t believe that guy. Damn, I’ve been *lucky* with most of the guys I’ve met online. I thank god that I live in a city, where most residents rely on public transportation. That way we can meet at bar (he doesn’t need to know where I live) and I can bolt and get the hell out of dodge, when necessary, not worrying about a ride home.

Speak your peace

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: