2003-12-08 - 10:15 a.m.
It wasn't a date from hell like some here, but it was a date from hell in that it went badly, but for both of us, not just me.
I used to sell radio advertising during the day and bartend at night during college. My radio job was just part time but took me all over the city. One day when I was out I ran into this guy I knew from school, the bar and now, he was at his parents restaurant. He'd been after me for a long time to go out on a date with him and I kept saying no. He was nice enough, attractive enough but I just wasn't into him at all, there was no spark of attraction on my side, lights on, nobody home.
That day I arrived to talk to his parents about buying a series of radio spots for their chain of fastfood places he persuaded me to go out with him that night. I was bored, tired and figured, what the hell, he's so anxious to spend his dough on me why not? Sparks or no sparks. We made plans for him to pick me up that night and we'd go to dinner, just talk, low key, no pressure. Or so I thought.
He picked me up at the duly appointed hour in his brand spanking new Jeep Cherokee, waxed to a high shine, brought me flowers, opened the door for me, etc. In essense he behaved like a perfect gentleman. We pulled up in front of one of the nicest, most expensive restaurants in town. I wasn't expecting that, thinking we'd grab a burger or some seafood and a beer. But no, the red carpet had been rolled out and no expense spared.
We dined, having a long parade of dishes with palate cleaning sherbet between and lots of wine. There were still no sparks for me but he was pretty smitten with me. There was one thing wrong with our dinner. I wasn't used to eating such rich foods, I'd been on a strict macrobiotic diet for a long time and here I was having pate and creme brulee. The longer I sat there the more uncomfortable I started feeling, my stomach cramping, telling me it was about to send everything I'd eaten through my digestive tract VERY rapidly. I retreated to the ladies room as he paid the waiter and I was in there a really long time, feeling like my digestive tract was trying to exit my body via my ass. When I was finally finished and flushed the toilet made a funny noise but I paid no mind, washed my hands and fixed my lipstick and started to leave. As I opened the door the toilet made a bizarre moan and spewed up the contents all over the floors and walls. I ran! Chickenhearted me didn't want the ritzy restaurant folks to know I busted their plumbing so I grabbed my date at the door and we left in a hurry. I wonder if he ever caught on to the fact I was ready to flea out of guilt/embarrassment/fear of discovery?
After a long talk over coffee in a romantic cafe and a walk under the stars he took me home, where I tried to get off with just shaking his hand and a "Thanks for dinner." He got extremely pissed off, saying that he felt like I "owed" it to him to fuck him because he'd paid for an expensive meal and squired me around all night. He'd paid, I should play. I shut the door in his face and left him yelling on the sidewalk outside of my apartment that I had to give up some pussy for that night out.
Everytime I ran into him again he fumed out loud what a cocktease I was. But I'm glad he never discovered I'm a plumbing-wrecker too.
hanging out with high school freshmen is not my idea of a romantic date. - 2004-02-13