Datesasters

Between my two marriages I went on quite a few dates that I refer to as "datesasters." Everyone's had 'em, an important part of education. (Now you youngsters must keep in mind that this was before online dating services became a thing, so we had to do it the old-fashioned way: through blind luck and lotsa courage.)

I'm still trying to forget one of my worst datesasters. It started off at the Kansas City Spirit Festival (an outdoor musical event) nicely enough. I can't remember who the band was (lotsa beers flowed), but my friends and I were sitting in the grass and before you know it I was dancing with a pretty girl (or so I thought at the time...remember, lots of beer). By the end of the show, I asked for her phone number and she gave it to me.

I waited the requisite three to five day period (you never want to appear too "hungry," although at the time I was practically starving)  and then called her. Thankfully her answering machine picked up and I left a detailed message and my phone number, thus putting the onus on her and sparing myself any possible one-on-one humiliation. Which as it turned out would've been preferred to our upcoming two dates. (My male work peer overheard me and said that was a wussy way out, to leave a number on her answering machine. Easy for him to say as he was married.)

She called back. The date was set! I told her I'd pick her up but she said she'd come by my house. (Warning sign number one. What was she hiding, I wondered.)

As I waited for her to come by, I couldn't help but wonder what she truly looked like without my beer-colored goggles. Color me shocked. At my door was a beautiful young Asian woman wearing nice clothes and cool high-top tennis shoes. Bonus points: she had giant 90's hair! (I've had several dates before where I met the women at bars, then set up a future date and when I saw them, I wanted out. Immediately. Guys, don't set up dates at bars when you're wearing those beer-colored goggles!)

But this time I was extremely pleased. I took her to a Cajun restaurant where all the men were sneaking looks at her while trying not to let their own wives/dates catch them. I felt like king of the world (eat it Dicaprio!) and wanted to show her off everywhere I could.

After a movie (Trainspotting at an art-house theatre, natch) which we both enjoyed, I took her home where I tried to kiss her. She backed off and said, "I never kiss on the first date." But then she was anxious to go on a second date.

And that's when it all went careening down to hell like a runaway bus driven by a blind man on an ice-covered hill.

When she showed up that next Saturday, the makeup was minimal, the clothes sorta "comfy" looking, and the Giant 90's hair was nowhere to be found. Don't get me wrong, she still looked pretty, but by the lack of effort she put into it this time, I could sense the honeymoon was already nearly over. (I know this sorta sounds sexist, ladies, but that's how we young guys thought in yesteryear).

Knowing that she liked live music, I decided to take her down to the River Market where there was a Zydeco Music Festival.

She says, "What's Zydeco?"

I explained it to her as best I could. "Hmmm," she said. "Sounds interesting."

On the way downtown, out of nowhere she suddenly blurts out, "I'm interested to see how sexually compatible we are."

YOW! I nearly swerved into another car. Was this the same girl who didn't kiss on the first date?  But once I got over my initial shock, I thought things had suddenly picked up.

And I was wrong. Once I bought tickets, drinks, and food, she said, "I hate this music. Can we go?"

"Um...sure." A mental image of the big bucks I'd just dropped flew away in seconds. We couldn't have been there for longer than ten minutes.

She said, "Let's go back to your house and watch a movie."

"Okay!" I floored the pedal and made it home in record time. She'd chosen La Femme Nikita (which I'd already seen, but I was game) and we piled onto the sofa.

Before I pushed "play," she turns to me and says, "I bet you're a Republican, aren't you?" in the most derisive of manner.

Loud warning bells went off. I heard a horrendous "AOOOGAH!" sound in my mind. And somewhere a cartoon trombone went "Wah, wah, wah, wahhhhhhhh."

I wasn't sure how to respond to her sudden judginess. As I tried to keep my temper in check, I said, "No, no I'm not. I'm very much a liberal Democrat. Why would you even assume that?"

I forgot her answer, but it didn't matter. I'd begun the check-out process. Check-out was completed with her next sudden judgy out-of-the-blue statement: "I think you're just looking for a new mother for your daughter."

That really blew my mind. "No, I'm not. She already has a mother."

But the damage had been done. I left her there to watch the movie alone while I tended to more pleasing things like doing the dishes and taking out the trash and cleaning the toilet.

At the end of the movie, I ushered her to the door. Where she lingered for an awkward twenty or so minutes, obviously wanting to see what would happen next. Clearly, in addition to being judgy, she was delusional. In what possible world, could anyone have viewed this as a good, successful date?

I opened the door and said, "Okay. Bye."

So the datesaster process began anew once again. (Now that I think of it, this datesaster wasn't nearly as bad as some upcoming ones I suffered through. But that's a post for another day!)

The only guy who had a worse dating profile than me has clearly got to be Shawn Biltmore. On the surface, things don't look so bad as he has two attractive women interested in him at the same time. But could one of them possibly be a murderous, flesh-rending and gnawing werewolf? Find out in my darkly comical horror satire, Corporate Wolf, available here.