Date Night
Anyone who knows me knows I am tall. I’m not talking 5’9, which is supposedly tall for a lady; I’m not even talking 6’, which is really tall for a woman. Nope, I stand (somewhat) proudly at 6’5 and so, one of the first things I look for in a man, is height. You can’t blame me for this – I’m certainly not going to roll around holding hands with a man the size of an infant. It’s not the only thing I look for, but it’s a huge factor in my (pretty much non-existent) dating life.
I met Chris* at a strip club. I wasn’t there for recreation, I was actually there looking for a waitressing job, hell, I’d agree to be the pole if they’d pay me. Even though I already had two jobs, I quickly learned that I was going to need a lot more than that to survive in New York. Chris was one of the bouncers at the club; he seemed to take an instant liking to me. I’d already had a few drinks at this point and in the dimly lit hallway where Stephanie and me filled out our applications, Chris looked appealing enough to give my number to – he was also 6’9, so it seemed like a good situation. We started texting as soon as I left; unfortunately, I lost interest within our first ten texts to each other that very same evening.
He was annoying. He called me beautiful entirely too much for me to even consider it the truth. He’d send question marks to a text if I hadn’t responded within two minutes. He would text me, then call me right after to make sure I received his badly written message. These were things I already hated, but to put the cherry on top of the perfectly iced cake, he texted like he hadn’t taken an English class a day in his life.
turn . off
I know in texting, colloquial language is somewhat acceptable. But when people don’t spell things correctly, use the right punctuation or make grammatical errors, it makes my skin crawl. Now for this twenty-nine year old male trying to woo me, but saying, “lemme. tk u out” is just a huge no-no.
Chris was persistent though. Despite my one worded answers or even when I completely ignored him, he constantly texted me, desperate to take me out on a date, adamant that we were meant for each other. I just couldn’t deal. Is this what my dating life was going to be like in New York? Was I doomed forever?
Date night happened in November. Sandy had hit NY pretty badly and so, my two roommates, Stephanie, and me though untouched, were subjected to staying within the walls of our apartment. Cabin fever hit us hard so when it was finally clear that we were safe (though we couldn’t leave Brooklyn), we decided to make a trip to the grocery store a few blocks away from my apartment. The plan was to make somewhat of a family meal and drink a little to celebrate our survival. Of course, Chris had called me the entire time through the storm – asking if I was okay or if I needed him to come and ‘look after me’. After much persuasion from my roommate, Chantel, I invited him over for dinner at 7pm. Her rationing was that he and I wouldn’t be alone and if he was as crazy as his vocabulary was, we could collectively get rid of him. So I finally answered his call and told him that he should be round for dinner at 7pm.
Why? Why do I listen to people?
He failed before he even walked into my house. He was two hours late. Now, I’m aware that I am known for being late to everything. I don’t do it purposely, it just happens, but I’m getting better – I’ve managed to narrow my tardiness down to eighteen minutes max! Two hours though? Even though dinner wasn’t ready yet, it was just disrespectful. His second mistake happened as soon as he walked into through the door. He said, and I quote, “daaaaaamn, this is a nice ass place, next time I come, I’m bringing all my boys,” – cue his friend who walked in shortly after him. Look - I don’t mind friends bringing friends over. He just should have told me; I would have agreed, I just would have been more prepared. Maybe he thought I could be the crazy one and brought back up of his own; I found out later, however, that that wasn’t his intention.
His next three mistakes were meshed together. Firstly, he was wearing a jersey. Mistake number two was that it was a Lakers jersey and yes you guessed correctly, ‘Bryant’ was displayed proudly across the back. He thought I was joking when I told him to leave my house. There are just so many things wrong with a twenty nine year old man wearing a basketball jersey WHEN HE ISN’T PLAYING BASKETBALL. The only other time you are allowed to wear a basketball jersey is if you are between the ages of one and seven; any age older than that and you look like an idiot. You also make everyone else around you look like an idiot, so right now; my apartment was filled with idiots. His third mistake wasn’t really his fault, but it was still a mistake. He was balding. I mean, sir, just fling on a hat – first impressions are everything.
The evening just got worse.
He was a chatter box, which isn’t always a bad thing, except everything he said made no sense. He used malapropisms like it was his job and it got to the point where, I was so tired correcting him that I actually took a mini nap. When I woke up, he had somehow wangled his way into Brandon’s (my other roommate) room and plugged his speakers into his phone to play some music. That’s okay right? Nope. No it’s not okay. Not when the music he played was strictly booty clapping songs. He would look at me after every line to see if his plan was working – if the inner stripper in me would escape and I’d give him a lap dance. When I had rolled my eyes at him for the umpteenth time that evening, I guess he thought he would kick it up a notch to make me fall in love with him. I guess he had noticed one of my tattoos and told me he had a few of his own – he then proceeded by lifting up his beloved jersey and showing me the three most random tattoos (like a math problem, a dragon and a word search or some shit) on the skinniest bird chest I’d ever seen. His nipples were extra hard and one of his areolas was bigger than two of mine - it literally took up half of the space on his chest...I thought it was another tattoo. I calmly told him to put down his shirt, we had just eaten and I wasn’t in the mood to clean up any vomit.
After about an hour his silent and creepy friend, who I then realised was the driver, said he had to travel to the Bronx to ‘save his little brother,’ and then he left. He said he’d be back, but I immediately knew this was a lie. This was all part of the plan to try and stay and cuddle or some crap like that – and I was taking no part in this tomfoolery. When he told Chantel, for the fifth time, that he was going to give her a gold star (yes, a gold star) for her hospitality (though believe me, he didn’t use the word hospitality), I had to leave the room. Was this a joke? Why was I being punished so severely? It was when I was leaving to “use the bathroom” that I noticed something. He was looking at Chantel and me at the same damn time – and not in the, “let’s have a threesome,” type of way – it was in a way that I don’t think Chris could help. Yeah. He was cross-eyed. Awesome.
When I returned, Brandon had obviously had enough and left to his room. Stephanie and Chantel went into my room in fits of giggles, and so that left me and cock-eyed Chris alone. We sat in silence for about ten minutes. I was tweeting the entire time, asking people how I could get this man out of my house without crushing all his lifetime hopes and dreams. Nobody helped me with my issue; instead I was told that the situation at hand was hilarious – great, now everyone knows my life is a joke.
It was Stephanie who came to my rescue. Stifling her laughter, she asked if we were still having our “daily movie night,” – THANK SWEET SWEET BABY JESUS FOR PUTTING THIS GIRL IN MY LIFE. I asked Chris how he would be getting home, since his friend had ditched him and he said, and I quote,
“Well since I got arrested for drink driving, I just smoke and walk now,” and with that, he gave me ten-minute hug, and left my apartment. He texted me when he got home a few hours later.
I wish I were making this shit up.
*Names have been changed to hide this poor fool’s identity – don’t want to ruin his game completely.
I think I’ve lost my mind, I’m just trying to find it.