I was explaining to someone today about my concept of The Island and dating in Reno.
I said, "If Kate tries one more time to make me feel sorry for her and her dilemma between TWO HOT GUYS I will seriously barf. I can't empathize with Kate. I'm more like Hugo: the dude I'm in love with is either dead or will end up that way."
And I thought this person was going to die laughing. And she didn't criticize my comparison. Instead she said, "At least you aren't crazy like Hugo."
Welcome to my little place on the World Wide Web, where I am going to try to expand my worn out writing skills by writing about what I see, do, and think.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Oh, the Joys of Dating
I went on my 4th date from the previously mentioned dating service. (I was at one time very disappointed in them, but have since learned a few things about their operations, and I am trying to be patient. We'll see. But this date is one of the reasons I was having a hard time staying positive.)
Fourth date and I were to meet at The Stonehouse Cafe, a cute little place with awesome outdoor seating. I couldn't eat too much because later that night I had a date with many a rib at The Best in the West Nugget Rib Cook Off! (Yum! Ribs!) Anyhoo, I got to the cafe right on time and waited for about 5 minutes when my uncle showed up!
OK, my REAL uncle didn't show up, but my date LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE HIM. Just like my uncle does now. Not fifteen years ago. The same. Mind you my uncle is my mother's OLDER brother. He's 56 years old. I'm 31. My age cut-off for my dates is 42. Now, if he would have strolled in looking just like Harrison Ford does right now, no problem. I'm down with some old Han Solo action. NOT old uncle action because, well, that makes me throw up a little in my mouth.
So, here I am, trying really hard not to laugh out loud, thinking, "This isn't this guy's fault that he looks like my uncle! I'm going to try to make the best of it." Then he spoke. And never shut up. "What color are your eyes?" he barked at me. "Brown," I replied. "Show me," he demanded. I lifted up my glasses, in defiance. What? Did he not believe me? Did he think I had color contacts in? I mean, seriously.
"I'm going to get into trouble for saying this, but I am going to say it anyway..." This was his segue into EVERY sentence he spoke. And I soon came to realize that this was his way of apologizing for the next thing to come out of his mouth, which was inevitably rude and obnoxious. In all actuality, he really wasn't sorry he was going to be rude. He just wanted me to know that he KNOWS he is being rude.
"What's wrong with you?" he barked loud enough for people three tables over to hear.
By this point in the conversation, I was done. I was ready to leave. Then he throws this disgusting and vile question at me, and it was all I could to not reply: "You and people like you are the problem. People who think that just because I am pretty, intelligent, and apparently desperate, I should have a boyfriend. But I do not settle. I will not settle. I will not settle to make society happy and to make myself seemingly happy. I will not settle just to make everyone around me more comfortable at parties and happy that 'I finally found someone.' I will not settle just because society thinks I am supposed to."
Instead, I replied, "I'm picky." And left it at that.
Then his phone rang. He answered it. It was his sister. This is how his end of the conversation went: "Oh, hey! What are you doin'? Me? Oh, I'm here in Reno on a date with a cute little redhead...(to me) are you a redhead? (Me: No, I'm brunette) (Him to the phone) oh, sorry, cute little brunette. What? No, she's pretty. She seems smart and she is easy to talk to. She's cool. She's ...What? Oh, she isn't here. Are you being good? You better. Ok, I better get back to my date or I'm gonna scare her off. Be good. Bye." Then to me: "That was my sister. I told her to be good because she has a drinking problem."
All I can think is: "God, please let a spaceship land, abduct me, anally probe me, and leave me for dead, because that will at least be less painful than this conversation."
Fourth date and I were to meet at The Stonehouse Cafe, a cute little place with awesome outdoor seating. I couldn't eat too much because later that night I had a date with many a rib at The Best in the West Nugget Rib Cook Off! (Yum! Ribs!) Anyhoo, I got to the cafe right on time and waited for about 5 minutes when my uncle showed up!
OK, my REAL uncle didn't show up, but my date LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE HIM. Just like my uncle does now. Not fifteen years ago. The same. Mind you my uncle is my mother's OLDER brother. He's 56 years old. I'm 31. My age cut-off for my dates is 42. Now, if he would have strolled in looking just like Harrison Ford does right now, no problem. I'm down with some old Han Solo action. NOT old uncle action because, well, that makes me throw up a little in my mouth.
So, here I am, trying really hard not to laugh out loud, thinking, "This isn't this guy's fault that he looks like my uncle! I'm going to try to make the best of it." Then he spoke. And never shut up. "What color are your eyes?" he barked at me. "Brown," I replied. "Show me," he demanded. I lifted up my glasses, in defiance. What? Did he not believe me? Did he think I had color contacts in? I mean, seriously.
"I'm going to get into trouble for saying this, but I am going to say it anyway..." This was his segue into EVERY sentence he spoke. And I soon came to realize that this was his way of apologizing for the next thing to come out of his mouth, which was inevitably rude and obnoxious. In all actuality, he really wasn't sorry he was going to be rude. He just wanted me to know that he KNOWS he is being rude.
"What's wrong with you?" he barked loud enough for people three tables over to hear.
By this point in the conversation, I was done. I was ready to leave. Then he throws this disgusting and vile question at me, and it was all I could to not reply: "You and people like you are the problem. People who think that just because I am pretty, intelligent, and apparently desperate, I should have a boyfriend. But I do not settle. I will not settle. I will not settle to make society happy and to make myself seemingly happy. I will not settle just to make everyone around me more comfortable at parties and happy that 'I finally found someone.' I will not settle just because society thinks I am supposed to."
Instead, I replied, "I'm picky." And left it at that.
Then his phone rang. He answered it. It was his sister. This is how his end of the conversation went: "Oh, hey! What are you doin'? Me? Oh, I'm here in Reno on a date with a cute little redhead...(to me) are you a redhead? (Me: No, I'm brunette) (Him to the phone) oh, sorry, cute little brunette. What? No, she's pretty. She seems smart and she is easy to talk to. She's cool. She's ...What? Oh, she isn't here. Are you being good? You better. Ok, I better get back to my date or I'm gonna scare her off. Be good. Bye." Then to me: "That was my sister. I told her to be good because she has a drinking problem."
All I can think is: "God, please let a spaceship land, abduct me, anally probe me, and leave me for dead, because that will at least be less painful than this conversation."
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