I was actually racking my head in reducing my list from 17 to 10. First of all, I would like to note that I could have made a list of the Top 10 D-Bags. While that would be much more satisfying, I fear that it would just come out as 10 screeds of meanness. Second, I decided to omit the many weird situations where I thought I was going into a date, when in fact it might have been something else (the subjects often ran parallel with the D-Bags).
I stipulate, I come off as an asshole in a few of these:
#10. The Actor
He is cute, real cute. Tall, thin, good hair, but there is a catch, he is really young, 22. I approach with hesitation, sure he says he is a video-game nerd, but he missed the NES days, that is an entire generation. But the date goes well, good food, good wine (btw late harvest Gewurztraminer with scallops – better than a good date). Maybe I am worrying for nothing.
But then he says, “Yea, I am thinking about moving to California after getting my degree.”
Flabbergasted, I choked on the very sweet white “Wait, when is that?”
“Oh; in a couple of months, I don’t know it depends on auditions.”
“I don’t want desert, the wine is sweet enough.”
#9. Liar Number One
We met at the Art Institute. He is well read, a foodie, smart – smarter than me. He also tells me later that he is married.
#8. Selfish, Just Selfish
I thought I fell in love, “Eric, the problem with cap-and-trade is that if it is tied to say market cap it is under-and-over inclusive.” He continued about the problems of the economic policy.
I was thinking church bells. Then I pulled a Ted Mosbey. “Marry me.”
“I don’t believe in marriage. Actually I support polymorphic (sic) [polyamorous - take that!] relationships.”
Bewildered I ask, “Meaning more than one person?”
“Yes – it is economically efficient …”
#7. Visitor
I heard my Britney Spears ringtone, it was set to "SK." I jumped out of the shower. The cats were looking at me, a wet naked mess. “Hello, oh hi, 'Sk'… Sure I am free, I will meet you there.” He brings a friend, a friend I also dated.
#6. Dyslexia
“I am sorry, your profile says 6’ 5’’. Just wondering, umm… was that a typo?”
“No, my profile is 5’6’’ why?”
Appalled that I was being lied to, I use my inquisitor's tone, “No it doesn’t. Dude, it is not a big deal, but you wrote 6 foot.”
He shows me his phone. His profile under stark white light. Shit, he is right.
He winkles his forehead, “So is it a problem?”
“I am Asian, you can’t be shorter than me.”
#5. Where the Fuck is the Mandolin?
Dinner was amazing. He has a condo on Michigan Avenue with a view that Oprah would kill for. Things get hot and heavy. He goes to the bathroom to freshen up. He comes out in a kimono.
#4. Fuck You.
They are delicious. I offer hesitantly, “Would you like an onion ring.”
You could see him proverbially flexing his pecs “Do you know how many calories are in those?”
Appalled, not so much about the coloric lesson,but because I was being charitable without asking anything for return. “Ummm… they are really good.”
He scoffs, “If you want to look fat keep eating them.”
Eric now becomes ERIC “I am SORRY, I am a FUCKING ATTORNEY. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU.”
#3. Get Thee to a Panda Express
Act 1. We had burgers and fries. It started as a good date.
Act 2. He asked me where we would go next time. I asked “What about Thai.” He told me he never had Asian food: no fried rice, no orange chicken, no dim-sum, no pot stickers.
[Curtain Closes]
#2 "Let’s Go Get Some Weed.”
#1. Who is Counting
He told me he was 37. I pressed on with inconsistent facts. He was actually 47.
