01 March 2012

Dates from hell

I have discovered recently that I attract a whole different kind of loser than most of my friends seem to attract. The bad thing about this? I will probably be single for the rest of my adult life. The good thing? Oh man, it gives me some amazingly hilarious stories to tell!


The other night, I had a date with a guy I had met on Craigslist (I know, I know). By date, I basically mean I invited him over to hang out and watch a movie. He actually seemed pretty cool and normal (you know, except for the "well, my wife and I aren't exactly divorced yet, and we still live together, and I sleep on the couch" bit). Part of the way into the second movie, he kissed me, and we ended up making out. It was fun, and he respected my boundaries, and yada yada. The next morning, I had a text message from him saying that we should have gone further, and he'd really like oral sex. I told him that if that ever happened, we'd have to use protection, because I really need to be safe. His response? He was offended, because I was obviously implying that he was dirty and had some sort of disease. Right. Or maybe it's just because I want to protect myself, just in case. Also, the fact that he said he'd had over forty sexual partners by the time he was twenty-one made me think we might need more than just a condom. Geez.


As if that wasn't bad enough, two days later I had a date with the cheapest bastard in the history of cheap bastards. First off, don't ask me out for dinner, unless you intend to pay for it. Or, when you ask me, state that it is going to be dutch, and that's fine. Luckily I had brought money with me. My share of the bill? Eleven dollars and change. His share? Fourteen dollars. So he decided we should each pay fifteen. Fine. That covers the bill plus would leave a few dollars for the tip. So this cheap bastard puts two dollars on the table for the tip, then pulls a ten out to put with my fifteen. When I realized he was doing this, I asked if that was all he was leaving for the tip (well under 10%). He said that yeah, two dollars was enough (no. No it's not. Fifteen percent is my bare minimum. Twenty is normal. Twenty-five for good service). So I put another three dollars down for the tip (if you're not keeping track, this means I've payed eighteen so far, and he's payed twelve). I start walking toward the register and he lags behind. I am ninety nine percent certain that he picked up the three dollars I left and put it in his pocket. We get to the cash register and he hands the guy two tens and a five. The guy apparently thought he gave him a twenty, a ten, and a five, so he gives him back ten dollars in change. Instead of saying something about the guy's mistake, he pockets the ten dollars. Which will have meant that I payed eighteen dollars for this meal, and he payed negative one dollar. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I told him to give me part of what the guy gave him back, so he gave me two dollars. Wrong-o, buddy. Though now, I am going to go back to that diner one day (not with him. Oh goodness, never again with him) and order something little and leave an enormous tip, to make up for the fact that I went out with a jackass.


I should have known the cheap guy was cheap after the first few times we went out. Once, he really insisted we were going to have to split three double cheeseburgers at McDonalds, because that was all he could afford. Get the hell out of here.


Makes me miss the guys I used to date who were actually gentleman. And look, I don't think the man should always have to pay - I really don't. I am happy picking up the bill from time to time, or hell, even every other time, or splitting the bill. However... to ask me out on a "date" and then make me pay more than you (when you ate more than me), and to be shady about the whole thing? Not cool at all. And well, you know what? I take it back. I do want a guy who pays all of the time, or who at least tries to pay all of the time. You know why? Because I'm old-fashioned and I DESERVE IT.


Please someone find me a guy who isn't a deadbeat loser.


Sidenote: Every guy I've been on a date with in the last few months either lives with their wife or their mom. No joke. I am twenty-eight years old, have a part-time job (well, with full-time hours), go to school, have MY OWN PLACE, and my own vehicle. And I'm a GIRL. I feel like a guy should be at least as well off as me, if not better off! Geez!

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