Sunday, April 19, 2009

What Not To Wear...Or Ever, Ever Do While Dating

OK Ya'll,
so I thought I would write a blog that really shouldn't need to be written. But unfortunately, some people in this world, though they are adults, don't seem to act like it on a date or in the process of trying to date someone. Or don't seem to act like an adult with any common sense, I should say. Hell, I'd take a step out there and say they don't even act like sentient beings half the time. In light of that fact, I'll now regale you with another list of, along with the story behind, many things that have been the undoing of many a poor soul who dared cross the line of acceptability when attempting to date The Big E. Hitch up your shorts and set a spell, this one's a doozy.
1. Don't play your perv card too early. There's a time and place for everything. Even the Bible tells me so. The time to ask your lady companion to hike up her dress and let you look at her in nothing but her leggings is not on the third date, however. Let me back up and tell you about the situation. I went out a couple of times with this guy, we'll call him The Pervinator. First date was fine, dinner and a movie, nothing out of the ordinary. Second date, dinner and then a movie at my house. Now, gentle reader, normally The Big E does not condone inviting a gentleman caller to your home until you have established a higher level of comfort. You always meet the gentleman at your preferred dining establishment, and you always make back up plans, especially on the first date. In this case, and I know this may come as a shock to many of you, I felt somewhat pressured into inviting him over. He seemed to be indirectly hinting toward it, and though I was not 100% comfortable, I invited him anyway. Again, nothing extraordinary, just watched a movie and a kiss goodnight. Third date was a whole other story. This chap lived a fair piece down the road, and The Big E is not averse to traveling for a quality date. But when Cracker Barrel is the nicest place in town for dinner and then you have to travel a minimum of 30 minutes back up off the interstate to get to BFE where your house is, I think I may have to reconsider my travel per diem and save it for a pint of Ben and Jerry's and some High Life. Again, though, Big E felt a little bit pressured to go so she did against her better judgment. And that's when it hit the fan. For starters, his house was dirty. You don't entertain ladies in your bachelor pad with shit strewn all over every available surface. If you don't know how to clean, call your momma to come help. Then he crossed the line.
Strike 1 was when he kept pulling me over on him without provocation, trying to make out with me, saying things like "Give me some love, let's make out, etc etc" to which The Big E said, "no, I'm trying to watch Idol. Back up off me, fool."
Strike 2 was Pervinator's repeated requests to go into his bedroom and lie down to watch television, to which Big E replied "uh, no, I'm not lying in your bed when I barely even know you. Back up off me, fool." As if the refusal to make out would be remedied by a duvet.
Strike 3 was just enough straw to bring this camel's spinal column to a tragic end. Right before I left, Pervinator says to me "why don't you pull your dress up and let me look at you in just your leggings?" Now keep in mind, Big E was clad in a super cute jumper-turtleneck-leggings ensemble with heels, and I am irresistibly cute, but don't go there. Not on the third date, not without alcohol, and not without prior indication from Big E that asking that type of question may be apropos. Needless to say, none of the aforementioned conditions were met. Big E was aghast and incredulous at such a request and politely declined. The next day, our friend The Pervinator got walking papers via text, and his response was thus: "I didn't force you to do anything." Who the fuck are you--Kobe Bryant? Seriously. Good riddance to bad rubbish, and let that be a lesson to all of you not to play the perv card before it's time and you have express written permission.
2. Don't be an Indian Giver. I recently received an email from a potential suitor from the dating site I'm on, and he looked somewhat promising. The only caveat was that he listed "yes, and they live away from home" in the "got kids?" dept. Big E is not kid-friendly as I've mentioned before, but I'll at least make friends with you for a free drink. After a few email exchanges, the Potential Suitor asks Big E if she'd like to have a drink. I said yes, when is a good time for you, PS? And he emails back a place, time, and description of the vehicle he is driving. On second examination, he then sends another email entitled "Ugh, I hate doing this!" that reads "After I made plans with you, I re-read your profile and I don't think we'll be a good match!" To which I replied "Alrighty then. Good luck and read more carefully next time." What am I supposed to say? That was A. rude and B. in poor taste. I'm glad I didn't get three dates in and start showing off my leggings before he pulled the plug, though.
3. Pay for her drinks, especially if you have a skin condition. The Big E recently met up with another interested party from the online arena at a local dining establishment to have a few cocktails and adult conversation. We'll call this interested party The Cortizone King. Now, in CK's profile and email exchanges, he seemed somewhat intelligent and friendly. What he failed to mention, and I'm not really sure how one would, is that he is covered in a lovely little dermatological issue called eczema. And not just a minor patch here or there that could be remedied by wearing sleeves, but full on face neck arms and hands eczema. Being the complete heartless bitch that I am on the inside, I cringed internally and tried not to stare whilst wrestling with the kind and caring persona I was trying to radiate externally. I thought perhaps multiple libations would help me become more kind, caring, and tolerant. Eight beers in, I had to use my back up option and politely inform my date that I simply must be going because I couldn't take it anymore. It was either hightail it out of there, or start making not-so-freudian slips regarding his epidermis. So what did he do while I excused myself to the restroom? He asked for the check. Separate checks. As in, The Big E sat here for 2.5 hours listening to you talk about Keith Sweat and scratch your crusty self and you can't even buy her two for one Miller Lites? Weak. A friend of mine suggested perhaps he was saving his money to buy Cortizone 10. I told my friend he was going to need a lot more than the $20 it cost for my bar tab.
4. Don't act like your shit doesn't stink. The day after the Eczematic Express rolled on through the station, The Big E had a drink meeting with another candidate for her affection. This bloke looked to be a fun time, had a witty profile, and exhibited a few interesting topics in the email exchange. He was not what you would call a "Dash Riprock" in the Looks Department, but he seemed to be one of those that personality can upgrade. Oh, how quickly the barometer changed. Big E met him at a downtown pub, and upon exchanging pleasantries, launched into the witty banter she's known for. What she gleaned from the responses from her date was that Knoxville is basically the biggest piece of shit place he's ever been and UTK is the biggest piece of shit school he's ever attended. So he automatically earned the moniker "Smuggy Smuggerson." SS proceeded to yammer on about how much better other places he had been were in comparison to our fair burg. I wanted to look at him and say, "You're from FLORIDA for fuck's sake! Nobody thinks anything about Florida is cool except the Golden Girls!" Needless to say, Big E failed to see the superiority of his company and quickly threw his credentials in the Ol' File 13. At least he paid for my drinks.

So, that's just a few little pieces of advice I've got to offer to all you in Datesylvania. Like I said, it's unfortunate that I would even have to dole out such suggestions, but there are those out there who don't seem to grasp the concept of "put your best foot forward," probably because said foot is firmly lodged in their mouth. It's also a cautionary tale in case you were perhaps questioning your dating behavior. Caveat Emptor, friends, and Happy Dating!


  1. I recently agreed to go out with one of those online suitors. He was nice, he was cool (when he wasn't being dorky), and paid for everything...the problem? He wasn't 6'0" even if he had heels on, made eminem look like Prince William, dressed like a redneck, and now texts or emails me daily (in the email exchange, we talked about taking things slow in the dating world). Now he's just smothering me and I'm not interested. I don't know how to let him down...I might change my number.

  2. Send him one of those "not interested" email replies on match. Tell him you don't think you're a good fit but good luck. And then block his number.