I met AJ on Ok Cupid. I wasn’t overly interested in him, but he seemed like a cool guy so when he asked to meet up, I figured – why the hell not? That’s the point of this right?
We decided to meet after work at the train station near my job, and head over to this ‘great place’ he knew about.
As I get near the train station, I head towards an area of benches across the street. I check the time on my phone and as I look up, I see a guy wave at me. I quickly pretend I didn’t see him, while thinking – holy shit please tell me that’s not him.
But of course it is.
Surprise! He looked NOTHING like his profile picture. In his picture he had on a hoodie and a pair of thick black framed glasses and kind of resembled of Q-tip…at a quick glance. While squinting.
However, there was only one picture to go off of, which (in hindsight) should have been a red flag.
I, reluctantly, headed over to say hello and as he gave me an (awkward) hug I noticed that he smelled like a woman. I’m not even going to mention the fact that he had really bad teeth, and his face looked like it may have gotten squished while coming out of the birth canal and never really bounced back. His face kind of reminded me of a T-Rex.
Yes, I’m aware that I’m going to hell.
We started walking east, towards that ‘great place’ he knew about, I couldn’t help but notice how feminine his mannerisms are. His walk, his talk, and the overuse of his hands while speaking – all came across very feminine and almost ‘valley-girl’-ish.
Now would be a good time to mention that I was wearing (adorable) taupe booties, with a heel that’s a few inches high. Nothing crazy – I was definitely comfortable walking to and from the train and wearing them all day long at work with no complaints.
A couple of minutes into our walk, we wound up behind these two older gentlemen, one of which was smoking a cigar. I love the smell of cigar smoke. It always reminds me of my great-grandfather, who was rarely seen without a cigar in his mouth. But I get the fact that cigar smoke is not for everyone. What I don’t get is how a bit of cigar smoke can throw a grown man into a temper tantrum that rivals that of my five-year old nephew. He started coughing and carrying on, dramatically waiving his hands in front of his face as he’s trying to get around the men. Then he threw up his arms and yelled
Ugh! I can’t STAND cigar smoke!
Before literally running to the other side of the street.
I stood there dumbfounded by his (overly dramatic) outburst.
Once I caught up with him on the other side of the street he said:
Sorry, I just really don’t like cigar smoke.
Uhh…yeah…I got that
Then he asks me if I have any pets.
Yes, I have a cat.
Oh…what kind of cat?
Uh…I don’t know. A fat one?
No, I mean, what color?
Oh. Well, he’s white on the belly with gray stripes on his back and…
Oh ok. ‘Cause I don’t do black cats.
Uh..oh ok. Superstitious huh?
No, it’s not even about being superstitious. I just think they’re bad. And I know they say mind over matter, but anytime I’m around one or see one, something bad always happens and I just think that they are really bad.
Right…so you’re superstitious…
And it’s not about the color. I really like the color black. It’s just that black cats are bad.
My best friend has a black cat, who I love dearly. He’s the sweetest little guy, and he is most definitely not bad or evil. And, yes, I realize that this guy is probably a few cans short of a six-pack, but I still felt the need to defend Solomon, and all the black cats of the world.
Well, my best friend has a black cat and he’s adorable, and very sweet. Would you like to see a picture?
Oh, no. I can’t even see a picture of them. In fact, if I have a friend on Facebook who even posts a picture of a black cat, I will de-friend them.
Are you serious??
At that point, started to calculate how much longer I’d have to deal with this…I figured we had to be close to the restaurant, and if I ordered and ate really fast I could definitely be out of there within the hour.
As my mind wandered back, he was still going on about the wickedness of black cats and their connection to the moon, or some shit like that. I was only half listening because, well, the conversation was ridiculous for one – for two, my feet were starting to hurt from walking for, what seemed like, forever. Then I noticed that we are on 2nd Avenue. I work near 8th.
So we had been walking forever. We walked to the complete other side of the city! That would explain the blister that was developing on my foot.
I was debating whether or not to slip on the flats I had in my bag, or if I should wait until we got to the restaurant and as I glanced over at him, I noticed that he looked really confused.
I’m just trying to keep an eye out for the place cause I’m not sure exactly where it is.
Uh. Ok. Well, what’s the name I’ll look it up on my phone.
I don’t know.
What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’??
I can’t remember the name…or where it is. I just remember landmarks. But I’m pretty sure it’s right around the corner.
Are you serious?
I stopped short and reached for my flats. Honestly, this guy was not worth the pain.
Ok, well, I need to put my flats on.
Oh, ok. Do you want me to hold your bag for you?
You look cute by the way.
Yeah. Thanks. These shoes are actually very comfortable, but they’re not meant for walking across Manhattan…
Oh…yeah…sorry about that. I should have told you I like to walk. *hahaha*
Yeah…well…I don’t. *irritated glare*
We walked around the corner and he (finally) saw the place.
…or so he thought. Once we walked in and sat down, he informed me that this, in fact, wasn’t the place he was thinking of, but he was hungry so ‘let’s just stay here.’ At this point, I just wanted to get this date over with, so I could care less.
I looked over the menu, and quickly decided on a chicken Caesar salad. Quick, easy, and hard to screw up. I ask him what he’s thinking of getting and all I get is
I don’t know.
And it was completely silent until the waitress came to take our order.
After we ordered our food, he asked me about the places I’ve been to. When I mention Jamaica, he started going on and on about the social justice, or injustice, or whatever, that goes on there and how it’s never going to end if they don’t start treating each other better. At this point his arms and hands are flailing, his eyes and neck are rolling, and he’s pretty much having a conversation with himself because I am definitely not paying any attention.
As we’re eating, he tells me about the things he does in his spare time since his job is ‘very party time.’
I’m sorry…what the hell does ‘very part time’ mean?
And I would have asked him that, if he let me get a word in. Instead he goes on and on about his trips upstate to learn about nature, his bird watching boat tours around the city, and being certified to become a tour guide in prospect park (yawn – I hate nature).
Anytime the waitress came over to check on us, he rolled his eyes at her or gave her a bitchy look. Like he couldn’t believe she would bother us. It was kind of embarrassing.
I was SO excited when the bill finally came. Since the place was more like a diner then a restaurant, we had to pay at the counter. As we got to the front desk, he turned to me and said
So….how do you want to handle the bill?
I just stared at him for a second and thought…uhh…I don’t want to handle the bill at all.
Do you want to just pay the tip…or…
Well. I don’t really have that much cash on me to leave a tip, so I guess we can just split it down the middle and I’ll put my half on my card.
This m*tha f*cka.
The woman at the front counter then informed me that there was a 20 dollar minimum for each credit card. Since the bill was only $30, we couldn’t split it on 2 cards.
Yes, that’s right. The bill was only $30 and he didn’t offer to pay it.
She then told me that there was an ATM across the street if we wanted to get cash.
I looked at him hoping he’d say “Oh no, don’t do that, I’ll just take care of it.” But nope. He didn’t say anything.
Uh. Ok. So I guess you can put it on your card and I’ll go to the ATM and give you cash..?
So that’s what I did.
Now you may be asking – why the hell didn’t you just leave instead of going to the ATM. And I thought about it, trust me. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Again, I’m not that much of a Bitch…yet.
I withdrew some money, paid the ridiculous fee, and headed back into the restaurant. When I asked him how much I owe dhim, he actually took the bill out of his pocket and began to scrutinize the charges.
Well the whole thing was $30…
*LOUD sigh* *disgusted eye roll* Ok. well here’s 15.
Great, thanks! Now I’ll have lunch money tomorrow.
Well, now I know what ‘very part time’ means. It means you can’t afford to take a girl out to a $30 dinner at a shitty diner.
As we walk out he asked me if I am in a rush to get home.
Yup. I have to get home right away. I have to give my cat his medicine.
You have to give your cat medicine?
Clearly, I never want to see this guy again.
Besides a good story, the experience did teach me a few things:
1. Never meet up with a guy that only posts one picture of himself on his profile. That’s never a good sign.
2. Alway find out the name and location of the place you are going to, beforehand. And make sure you know how you’re getting there so you can wear appropriate shoes.
3. Always trust your gut. I wasn’t so psyched about meeting up with this guy – which should have been a sign that it probably wasn’t a good idea.