Tag Archive: bad date


About a week prior to my run-in with Super Douche the other day, I had an impromptu date with another gentleman from OkCupid. Ok, “gentleman” might be the wrong word. Maybe “asshole” is better. Yeah. Asshole. So anyway…

(I’ll apologize in advance here – if you’re friends with me on Facebook, you may have already heard a good bit of this story. Pardon my redundancy.)

I didn’t realize right away that he was, in fact, an asshole, otherwise, I never would have agreed to meet him. As it was, I went to the gym after work, and as usual, was starving afterwards. Asshole (let’s just call him AH for short from now on, shall we?) emailed me, and revealed that he hadn’t eaten yet, either, so we decided to meet at the Greene Turtle about 10 minutes from me. I will give him credit there – he lives in Annapolis, and considering it was already at least 9:30pm, he could’ve asked me to meet him at a more central location instead of offering to come to me.

That’s pretty much the only credit he gets for the entire evening, though.

My first clue that we might not be simpatico came before we even made it to the restaurant. He called to let me know he was on the way, and informed me that he’d just gotten pulled over because he’d accidentally turned on the (illegal) neon underbody lights on his truck. Um…who *has* those? The fact that he had illegal lights on his car wasn’t what bothered me (though I am at a loss as to why someone would intentionally put something on his car that he can’t ever turn on…that makes no sense to me), rather it was the way he told the story about what happened. Instead of just saying that the cop was cool about it, and let him off with a warning, he made it sound like the policeman was intimidated by him, and let him go because he is so big and bad. Can we say, “TURN OFF” boys and girls?

Because the Greene Turtle is kind of in a weird place and AH didn’t know exactly where it was, we met in a nearby grocery store parking lot so that he could follow me over. He got out of his truck to say hello and said something about how he usually wears contact lenses, but had decided to wear his glasses tonight. I said it was no problem, and that I wear contact lenses and glasses myself. He then proceeds to question me as to why I am not wearing my glasses. When I said that I don’t like wearing my glasses and that I prefer my contact lenses, he got this incredulous look on his face as if I were crazy to have such a preference. Little did I know, I would be seeing this same look from him every time I dared to have my own opinion (that differed from his).

We made it to the restaurant without incident, sat down and started to look over the menu. AH then proceeds to start talking. And talking. And talking. In fact, he never shut up from the time we sat down, until the time we left. Ever. I’ve never in my life met a man who talks so freaking much. The few times he managed to shift focus for a minute or two and ask me a question, I’d get halfway through telling my own story before something I’d said would spark a memory and he’d be off talking about himself again.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m all for having a guy who likes to talk to me. Communication is good. However. I also enjoy the occasional comfortable silence. And being able to hear myself think. And being able to get a word in edgewise. And maybe a little flirting. I’m just sayin’.

Even the fact that he talked (ALOT) could’ve been overlooked, if not for the absolute CRAP he was spouting. He bragged…constantly. About his 3 cars (one of them’s a porsche!), about making $80,000 last year while only working part-time, about his illegal wolf-dog hybrid…and every time he said something that could be construed as bragging, he would preface it with, “not that I’m bragging!” Um, yes. Yes, you are. Jerk.

If he wasn’t bragging, he was saying something completely stupid and/or thoughtless, or just acting like a complete know-it-all. Those of you who know me well know that I don’t let a lot of things get to me, and it takes a *lot* to offend me. This guy offended me or just said something so incredibly stupid so many times in the short time we spent together, that I lost count. Here are just a few examples:

AH: So, do you cook?
Me: No, not really.  I have a couple of things that I make well, but I just don’t really enjoy cooking. I’m better at baking.
AH:  (looking incredulous) Really? Wow. I thought all women could cook.
Me: Oh, ok, and that’s not at all sexist.
 
AH: I tend to date someone 2 or 3 months, and then I get bored. Then I just move on to the next one.
Me: Yeah, that’s probably not the best thing to tell someone on the first date.
 
AH: I used to only date really thin supermodel types. If someone weighed a little more, I would kind of make fun of them or be mean. I used to be kind of a jerk.
Me: Oh, really?
AH: Yeah, but I’m trying be a better person now.
 
AH: And someone older than me? Oh, I never would’ve dated someone older than me back then. No way. But now since I’m trying to be a better person, I figure it’s better to try different things and be nice to everyone. [He’s 33 or 34]
Me: You do know I’m 43, right?
AH: Yeah, but you look good for your age.
 
AH: (incredulously) You’ve never been on a jet ski?
Me: No…they look fun, though. I’d give it a try.
AH: Seriously? Have you ever even been on a boat?
Me: Of course I’ve been on a boat. What does one have to do with the other?
AH: What kind of boat?
Me: The kind that floats on the water. What kind of a question is that?
        Then later:
AH: I’d like to go downtown to the museums sometime. I’ve never been.
Me: You haven’t? How long have you lived in this area?
AH: My whole life. I don’t know where to park down there [in DC], and I’ve never ridden the metro.
Me: You’ve never been on the metro before? Really?
AH: I don’t know how to work the lines. Do you?
Me: Yes, it’s called a map. I can’t believe you’re giving me shit about a jet ski when you’ve never ridden the metro or been to the Smithsonian.
 
Talking about animals/pets:
AH: Male dogs only like women and female dogs only like men.
Me: What? No, they don’t. 
 
AH: I also do massage therapy on the weekends. Well, only when I need extra money.
Me: I see. 
AH: Yeah, and I can tell just by looking at you that you’re tense. 
Me: I am?
AH: Yes. Well, I could be wrong, but I can tell.
Me: (What? Uh, if you’re WRONG, then obviously you can’t!) Ah…
 
AH: I’ve been engaged 3 times, and I called it off each time. No one’s ever broken up with me.
Me: (Why do I find that so difficult to believe?)

Finally the meal was over and it was time to leave. (YES!) As I was getting in my car to leave, he once again felt the need to demonstrate that he was “the man” and I am “the little woman”.

 

AH: Why is your car shaking like that? Do you feel that?
Me: Um…because it’s running?
AH: Oh no, that’s not good, that’s [insert a bunch of crap here that I tuned out]…but don’t worry, I can fix it. I used to work on cars. I’ll get it taken care of for you.
Me: (Did he forget that we just met?)
AH: You should take those shoes off, too, and drive home barefoot. Those are dangerous.
Me: What? What are you talking about?
AH: The back moves. Just trust me. Take them off.
Me: They’re slip-on sandals. They’re fine. 
AH: No, really, it’s better to drive barefoot.
Me: That’s ok, My shoes are fine. Have a good night. 

I couldn’t drive away fast enough.

The next day he texted me a few times, and then called me while I was driving home from work. I didn’t answer, and he didn’t leave a voice mail. My policy on phone calls is that if you don’t leave a voice mail, it must not have been important, so I am not obligated to call you back…so I didn’t. Haven’t heard anything since. WHEW!

Not-so-OkCupid

As part of my never-ending quest to find Mr. Right (or at the very least, Mr. Doesn’t Make Me Wanna Gouge Out My Own Eyes With a Plastic Fork), I seem to be on a quest to dip my toes into every cesspool of a dating site I can find on the internet. My latest foray is into the hell on earth that is OkCupid.

So far, the only redeeming qualities this site seems to have are that 1) it’s free and 2) it seems to be chock full of blog material. I’ve only been on it for a little over a week, and so far I’ve had a date with an a-hole, a marriage proposal from a guy in Florida, and a virtual run-in with someone who I will call Super Douche. He’s the one I want to tell you about first.

I was browsing the profiles yesterday afternoon while eating my lunch, when I came across Mr. Douche. OkCupid rates your compatibility with your matches, and Super Douche and I were only rated as a 10% match. I read his profile and didn’t see anything too awful there. He’s a pianist, which I liked, having a musical background myself, so I wondered whether there is actually anything to their scoring system or not. The only thing that gave me pause were his pictures. There were 3, all shirtless. The main photo was of him, shirtless, wielding an ax. Yes, an ax.

Am I the only one who sees the humor in this?

I decided that if nothing else, I would share the chuckle that his picture gave me, so I sent him a message. Here is the mayhem that ensued, copied and pasted, word-for-word:

Me: I wonder why we’re only a 10% match…maybe it’s because of the ax…lol

Super Douche (who for simplicity’s sake will from now on be referred to as “SD”): I would not rely on some mindless computer-generated so-called “match” as an indication of anything. You are giving it too much credence.

Me (ooook…lighten up, dude!): I actually don’t give it any weight at all. It was a joke about the fact that you’re holding an ax.

SD: An axe which I was using to chop wood – great exercise.

Me: Yes, I get that. Which is why it was a joke. Surely you can see the humor in using a photo like that on a dating site, where there’s no real way of knowing whether the person behind the profile is a nice guy or girl, or a serial killer. Anyway..sorry if I bothered you.

And here’s where it all starts to go downhill, folks…

SD: I understand that it was a joke, and I am aware of the fact that there is no way to determine the inner nature of anybody based on a photo. I also know that the instance of serial killers on dating websites, or anywhere for that matter, is statistically insignificant.

SD: I also do not think that using that particular photo is humorous, since I have received many compliments about it, and since it accurately depicts my physical appearance.

It’s lucky for him his photo is getting compliments, because I’m pretty sure his pissy-assed attitude isn’t!

Me: Ok, I think I figured out where that 10% comes in to play. Have a great night, and best of luck to you.

And that, my friends is called “waving a red flag in front of a bull”.

SD: I don’t need you to wish me luck, idiot. I find you rude and obnoxious. Feel free to compose a witless response. I have already blocked your sorry fat ass. Don’t think that just because you see that a message was sent on this webiste, that it was sent. Over and out.

Yet I’m the one who is rude and obnoxious? 

SD: Good luck going easy on those cookies, fatty.

Me: What a sweetheart. You’ll have no trouble finding a date.

Obviously it’s still bouncing around in that uptight, humorless, neanderthal brain of his, because 9 minutes later:

SD: I thought you attached no weight to matches, moron.

Me: Let it go and move on already. There’s no need to act like an asshole. You’re not interested, I’m not interested, the end. Geez.

Just in case anyone would like to send a message to Mr. Prince Among Men – because I’m sure he’s available, and not at all selfish in bed – his OkCupid screen name is novapianoman. I’m sure his sense of humor will improve once they remove the massive stick from up his ass.

Some days I don’t know why I even bother. I know the guy I want is *not* on this site. I guess it all goes back to my earlier list…1) it’s free and 2) great blog material. As a friend of mine said to me not too long ago, “You just can’t make this stuff up.”

Next time I’ll tell you about the a-hole and the marriage proposal. Laters!