Monday, 31 May 2010

• The L Dating Chronicles: I Threw Up On My Date

  
  What happened to the good ol' dinner date? When a guy who's been texting me recently asked me to meet him at a restaurant in the village last night, I assumed I'd be wined and dined. But I ended up just being wined. And tequila-ed. And Beered.

  
  I met this guy through a friend of mine, and he seemed sweet, but definitely not my type. To be honest, I didn't give him much thought until the date started going well. We talked about a mutual love of James Bond movies, and after a glass of sangria we relocated to another bar. After about a half hour, the kissing started, and so did the spins. I had the bartender bring me a basket of bread, but by the time I had to fake a bathroom break just to puke in the toilet, I realized it was time to go home. I thought I was headed for the train station, but when I got out of the taxi I was somewhere in the financial district... where my date lived. A few feet from the cab with the boy holding my hand as we strolled down Wall Street, it happened. I just looked down, opened my mouth, and threw.

  To make a long story short, I ended up crashing at his place in my own clothes, bouncing at 7:30 am, and mourning my tossed cookies (and dignity) on the Long Island Rail Road. But the amazing thing is that I didn't give a shit about him calling me before the embarrassing moment, and on the ride home all I could wonder was, "Did I just blow it?"

  Elise had a similar situation to talk about when we lunched this afternoon. 

  "Remember that guy Kent," someone who hit on to Elise and almost ruined their co-ed friendship. "Well, I met his new girl friend last night and started to get jealous. Honestly, I missed the attention and wonder if I like him?"

  I've seen Elise and Kent in action. He drooled, and she loved it, but she most certainly does not love him. Just like my no-second-date boy, Elise was only pining after someone she thought didn't want her. It's a typical female trait, and even a characteristic of human nature. But why don't we throw it to the side when it will only hinder us in the long run? Elise's response to an uninterested guy: Why isn't he interested. Maybe I am. His response to an uninterested girl: There's more where she came from, and probably with bigger tits, too.

  So, here comes my injection of male-mentality into my dating life. My dating disaster just turned into a funny story for the books, and as for Mr. First Date? Maybe he'll call, and maybe he won't. But I'll probably be onto the next one. Shouldn't we all?

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