My First Second Date

Although I wasn't really that into "D" 47 (you know, the one that let me walk home in the dead of winter), I accepted his invitation for a second date. I thought maybe I'd judged him too harshly (I do that once in awhile) and that perhaps he'd grow on me. I was so, so wrong!

"D" and I agreed to meet in front of a restaurant at 7:30. I arrived right on time, "D" was nowhere in sight. After a few minutes, he came trotting out of the restaurant, saying that he couldn't wait any longer (for what??). I thought maybe I'd misunderstood the time, but no, he just really wanted to start drinking! I sat down and put my hands on the table, he immediately grabbed one and starting kissing it. In public! While people were trying to eat! I wanted to vomit, and use my hand sanitizer. F'ing gross ...

"D" was already slurring his words a bit when I arrived, and he was very, very loud. So loud that people were staring at us. I tried to tell "D" about the horrible day I'd had, and how a client I'd known for years tried to con me into being part of a Madoff-esque scam, but he brushed me off and started talking about himself. I know I come off as a little selfish, but I really don't mind listening ... that is when the person speaking is sober and making sense!

We ordered an appetizer and dinner ... when the waitress dropped off the appetizer and began to walk away, he called her back and asked her if she was going to take our dinner order ... I looked at her, she looked at me ... I think I saw the pity in her eyes, and I'm sure she saw the horror in mine.

During dinner, "D" made a pretty big deal about the fact that I don't care for talking on the phone. Funny "D", I'll talk on the phone for hours with people that I like! He also shared all sorts of personal information, including the fact that he doesn't have too much hair on his back (newsflash buddy, any is too much) and that he has a "nice" chest ... he did have a nice chest, if you happen to get turned on by man boobs.

I wanted to ditch "D" right after dinner, but he didn't seem ready to give up on me. As I stood up to leave, he starting aiming his finger toward my "special area" and said "I like that." I was like, "Excuse me?!" So he proceeded to poke me in the thigh on a distressed patch on my jeans, about 3" from said "special area." Speechless, I took off in the direction of the bar to meet up with some friends. As we walked to the bar, "D" kept reaching his hand out to take mine ... but I kept my hands firmly in my pockets and pretended not to see. Cruel, I know ... but eeeeew.

Upon arrival, "D" immediately secured the first of many many drinks. I sat down, and he got behind me and started rubbing my arms and neck in a most repulsive way. I told him that I wasn't comfortable being touched by someone that I didn't really know very well, and he told me I was "weird." Whatever, maybe my parents didn't pick me up enough when I was little, but we all have our things, and calling me weird is no way to get points (or sex for that matter).

Over the next couple of hours, "D" made a game of touching me and then pulling his hand away and saying, "Oh, sorry!" until I wanted to rip his pokey finger off and shove it down his throat. My friends were shocked that I was even standing next to him, and one came up with an elaborate plan to ditch him. After about 5 beers, "D" was pretty hammered. I could barely understand him, but I did manage to hear him utter, "Would it be OK if I gave you a kiss?" After I stopped gagging, I told him that I don't kiss people I barely know. He persisted  bit, until a girlfriend saw my distress and begged me to accompany her to the ladies room.

After I rejected "D" advances, he stopped speaking to me (maybe there is a God?) and grabbed his things and vanished. I did a happy dance, my friends toasted me on my lucky break and all was fine ... until he reappeared, fresh beer in hand. Thankfully, he chugged it down at record speed and left for good.

This experience has left me convinced that the only men in their 40s who are still single and child-free have something terribly, horribly wrong with them. My 3 month Match.com membership expires today, and I won't be renewing it. As much as I've enjoyed sharing my stories, dealing with these losers has left me more bitter and jaded than I was when I started this project.

So I'm going to open this blog up to you, my loyal followers. If you have a dating or relationship horror story you'd like to share, email it to me at datinghorrorstories@gmail.com and I'll post it here!

It's been fun Bitches! Don't miss me too much!

--Lucy Love