AKA Valentine’s day, I’d like to offer up a horror story of not-so-epic proportion. It was the original date from hell.
Girlfriend (new friend) calls me up and says she has the PERFECT man for me. I allow her to give him my phone number, and he calls. We agree to meet at the Mall and have dinner at one of the restaurants in the area.
I get to the agreed-upon place early. He is late. (oh my)
He hands me a lovely bouquet. Of silk flowers. He has wrapped said flowers in a sheet of newspaper he spraypainted green. The whole thing is sticky and still wet in places. He is late because he was waiting for the paint to dry. (riiiiight)
We go into the agreed-upon restaurant. There will be a 45-minute wait (we missed our reserved time because he was late) and he pitches a fit and storms out of the restaurant. (tantrum much?)
We go to another restaurant. I drive my car, leaving his at the mall. I place my order, he decides to try something new. Throughout the meal he complains about how the food tastes. Thoughts go to dessert, and I bring up the restaurants DELICIOUS fried ice cream. Nope, not going for it, HOWEVER, there is an ice cream shop less than 1/2 mile away, we should go there for real honest-to-goodness ice cream. (is this date over yet?)
We get into my car (again) and drive to the ice cream shop. We place our order, and he cleans the tabletop. The discussion turns to the arts. I mention that I enjoy playing music and writing. He lights up when I mention writing, and says he is into “Assisted Creative Writing”. (wtF??!!??) I ask for the definition of “assisted” and he tells me he enjoys smoking before writing. Blank stare from me. Basic conversation: Uhm, OK, how does smoking help you write? Well, I like smoking *mumbled*. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you. *mumbled louder*. Honey, this is a busy restaurant. I still didn’t hear you. *mumblefer* No, you did NOT tell me you get stoned /just/ to help you write. (gawd help me)
So I decided to end the date right then and there. We got in the car, drove back to his car, he asked for a kiss (I don’t THINK so) and then said “Oh, by the way, I left you a pleasant little surprise in your car.” Greaaaat, this asshole slipped a j into the seat cushions I think as I pull into the 24-hour carwash. Yes, you heard me right, I went to the carwash. In heels and a mini. It took me 2 hours to go through that car from front to back, checking and re-checking the seat cushions, under the seats, the glove compartment, and everything else I could check. He had put a piece of trash from the ice cream shop’s parking lot in my floor. (what a fuckhead)
The moral of the story? Ladies, don’t complain that you didn’t get the “right” thing on Valentines. It’s GOT to be better than that date.
Epilogue: I called the girlfriend the next day to ask her what the FUCK was she thinking when she said we had a lot in common. Her answer? Well, you’re both single!