WHO: Younger brother of a friend’s co-worker. We can call him Anti because I am anti-him.
WHAT: Blind date
WHEN: Valentine’s weekend 2009
WHERE: Local coffee house, Nevada City CA
WHY: I’d been single for about a year and my last breakup had been absolutely devastating. I was finally fully recovered and my friend told me she knew of a single guy who was amazing.
THE DATE
He was the younger brother of my friend’s co-worker and supposedly an awesome guy. He’d moved in with his sister to help her with her kids after her asshole abusive husband was out of the picture. He was tall, great with kids, and responsible. My friend said she’d never actually met him, but had seen his photo and said he was cute. She also mentioned her co-worker raved about him constantly, but I went into it cautiously. Lots of people who suck have siblings who think they’re great. I had nothing to lose though so I agreed. It was one going to be one of the first blind dates I had ever been on.
Unfortunately, there was a huge snowstorm the night before and a bunch of friends got snowed in at my house. We killed several bottles of Andre champagne as this was during the mimosa discovery phase of my life. The glory days when hangovers only lasted a few hours and could easily be cured by watching a Lost marathon on the couch.
Things got a bit rowdy between me and a good guy friend and yada yada yada I woke up with several hickeys on my neck. It’s funny now, but at the time I was mortified. Who goes on a Valentine’s blind date with hickeys from another guy? Well, apparently me. I’m terrible at dating. Hence blog. I’ve never been great with makeup, but I did my best. This was before the days of unlimited texting, so I actually talked to the guy on the phone to make plans. We agreed to meet that afternoon despite my hangover/shame spiral.
I lived up the street from the coffee place so I threw on a scarf to help hide my neck and I walked down. I was really nervous never having been much of a dater, so I showed up really early. I got some tea and arranged myself at a table near the door so I could see him come in. I waited and waited, and he finally showed up (late). Strike one. He was a few years younger than me, but he looked to be about 14. I was 24 and not interested in dating a teenager. Strike two. I don’t think he was even old enough to enjoy a beer which was probably why we met at the coffee house in the middle of the day rather than a bar at night, so I should have known better. Strike 100. He was tall though and not super difficult to talk to…at first.
Strangely, the topic of abortion came up fairly quickly after he arrived. Maybe he saw the hickeys and assumed I was really slutty or something. He was not shy with his opinion and he made it clear he was staunchly anti-abortion. Strike the end. I started to get my feathers ruffled and attempted to explain that I didn’t think he could have that kind of opinion over my body, but I realized it was a waste of my breath. He noticed one of my tattoos and told me about one he was planning. He explained that what he wanted was basically a white trash guy holding a gun in one hand and a confederate flag in the other hand. This white trash winner was also supposed to be wearing a shirt that said something like “MY FUCKING COUNTRY!”
I can’t remember now what this guy did for work, but it doesn’t matter. I was out. We didn’t have anything in common. I drank my tea fast and said I needed to go because it was raining outside and I had to walk home. He said he didn’t want me to have to walk in the rain and insisted I let him drive me the 5 minute walk home. I argued that I had an umbrella, but he wasn’t having it. To his credit, that was nice. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just had terrible beliefs and ideas I would never get on board with.
He drove me home and I told him not to bother getting out, I’d see him “later” and thanks for the ride. I went in where hungover people were still enjoying the couch I never should have left. They wanted to know how it went and as I was launching into it, someone knocked on the front door. My friend went in the other room to answer it, and there he was asking for me. I groaned and reluctantly made my way to the door. I had finally left him, why was he back? He told me I had left my umbrella in his car and said he thought it was because I wanted him to come back. I told him I had genuinely forgotten it, and he kissed me. I was so stunned that I just let him.
He wasn’t the worst kisser, and I was so impressed with his ballsiness I forgot how much I disliked him. We talked again later that week and and I agreed to go to a movie with him. I have no memory of what we saw, but I remember it was a matinee and the sun was still up when we came out. Why were we going on all these day dates? After the movie he wanted to go get something to eat, but I’d remembered how dull he was and I made up some excuse about being busy. His response was to shove me up against his truck and try to makeout with me in the parking lot. I was less impressed this time and had already decided I never wanted to see him again. He wasn’t all that smart which, it turns out, is kinda important to me.
But then he took a break from molesting my face and he laid this super suave line on me: “I’d really like to go home with you, but I don’t think you’ll let me.”
I looked at him and said, “You’re right, I won’t.”
We parted ways and I didn’t return his calls. But I’ve always wondered if he got that tattoo.
Never Compromise on Tallness or Baby Hands 