Ok. So in my experience, there are four distinct ways a date can go…
- Super, crazy awesome–a date like a Van Morrison song. You’re attracted to her on a deep, meaningful level. She’s attracted to you on that same level. The prospect of a second date keeps you up at night with excitement and the good kind of “nerves.”
- Respectable–this is a date where you’re not “coo coo for cocoa puffs” but it was nice. You both enjoyed yourself. Maybe there’s a really strong intellectual, emotional or physical connection and you’re down for a second date.
- Boring–one or more of the people on the date just aren’t feeling it. You’re both nice people but there’s no spark, physically or emotionally. This is the way most dates play out.
- Complete fucking disaster–so horrible, so scarring, so debauched that you really need to not go out on another date for week or two after. Really fucking terrible. Very few dates rise to this level but when they do, they’re great stories. I repeat GREAT STORIES.
Which brings me to my current tale…
…the anti-Semite alcoholic.
Rewind to four years ago. I was doing speed dating every. Speed dating is a decent idea on paper; in reality, it’s a bad idea. Ineffective. Poorly run.
What Is Speed Dating?
For those of you who haven’t tried speed dating or heard about what it entails. Here goes…
…there are x number of men and x number of women at each event. Ostensibly they are single. Every x minutes (usually 5), a buzzer is rung and men have to switch tables and sit next to a different woman. Within these 5 minutes, you’re supposed to make up your mind about whether you’d like to go out with this woman and she with you.
At the end of the night, you create a little tally of the folks you’d like to see again and submit it online or with the person running the event. With that explained, I’ll explain how I met the anti-Semite alcy I have built up so much.
“Hey, why not?”
A lot of very bad ideas have started with this premise and my encounter with Ms. Alcy was no different.
You see, I had met Ms. Alcy once before at another speed dating event. When I tallied my matches, I had decided not to mark her as a “yes, I want to see her again.” Nothing visibly wrong. I just didn’t feel a chemistry.
After seeing the list of women who matched me but that I hadn’t matched, I saw her name. She clearly felt more strongly than I did.
The next speed dating event…
I arrived at the next speed dating event and lo and behold, she was there. The conversation was pleasant and I said to myself, “Hey, why not?”
I marked her as a “yes” and she did as well. We went for a quick lunch on a weekday in Old Town. I have to say, honestly it was pleasant. Nothing odd. Nothing unusual. But pleasant. We made plans to grab dinner at TGI Friday’s and then hang out in La Jolla Cove. I was looking forward to it. She seemed to be as well. Little did I know that…
…the second date would turn in a titanic-style disaster movie.
In the week following our first date and before our second date, she had called me and said, “Hey can we skip dinner and just do drinks. It’s been a tight week financially.” A very reasonable request.
The night of the second date. We arrived at TGI Fridays. We sat at the bar. I ordered a non-alcoholic beer because well, I like non-alcoholic beers. And I didn’t really want to drink too much. The moment the words slipped my lips about my choice of beverage, she said, “Boy you’re going to hate me now.”
My head spun a bit and before I can ask for clarification, she ordered a vodka martini. I asked her for clarification but she demurred and didn’t really answer the question. At this point, my oddness sensors were buzzing on vibrate.
But the conversation went on. I noticed that there’s constant references to alcohol. And there seemed to be some tension about it. I made a mental note about it and went on with the date.
Then the topic of her two younger sisters came up. She clearly disapproved very strongly of their choice of mate. It was with these two revelations where the date went from…
…boring date to complete fucking disaster.