Once upon a time in the valley, I found myself having sushi with a large shaved head of Eastern European decent (LSHEED).
You know those decisions in life that you know are bad and you make anyway? Yeah, letting my casual friend set me up on a blind date was one of them.
LSHEED wasn’t necessarily a bad guy, but I was wearing a pink dress and pink polish. I read in middle school: pink is the least threatening color. These days wearing it is more a technique to try and somewhat neutralize the searing acid that spurts from my mouth. Therefore, it is somewhat unrepresentative of my person without the accompanying backhanded compliments and de-masculinizing banter.
Here’s the catch: this being a set up by my friend, I felt
compelled to be nice as not to sully her honor…
If I didn’t have anything nice to say, I said nothing at
all. Therefore, I was mute, which is not my element. In essence de-clawed, I
became pinker than my polish.
LSHEED complimented my polish. I quickly informed him this was the least accurate feature of my normal appearance. I intern with toddlers. My research apprenticeship involves rats. I use my hands for everything. My nails are usually short and covered in finger paint.
Strike one for LSHEED.
LSHEED decided to try and recover by talking about his interest in settling down and marriage with “a girl like me.” He apparently thinks these are: a) appropriate topics for a first date and b) something I want to hear.
GIANTIC STRIKE TWO!!!!
I want to die celibate and surrounded by people who love me,
though I refuse to fuck them.
LSHEED is from one of those touchy feely cultures. DO NOT get touchy feely with protestant girls. You may have a handshake or for birthdays, Christmas, or a death in the family a hug.
Please note: physical contact no matter how innocent is not punctuation. LSHEED did not appear aware of this fact.
Strike three through seventeen for LSHEED.
LSHEED did, however, observe the repulsion with which I responded to his pats and other impertinences. I am not sure to what he contributed my behavior. It was in fact a product of my conviction I had every right to remove his hand, dry it, and hang it off my purse as a warning to other men, who thought to be so bold on a first date.
His idea of responding appropriately was to inform me he
usually “dates more conservative girls.” This implied I was conservative.
Me conservative? LSHEED probably arrived at this deduction from my monochromatic pink being and that fact I hadn’t attempted to verbally castrate him yet.
I laughed incredulously. I turned to…
Oh, did I mention this was a double blind date?
I turned to the guy across from me to share this new
revelation about how I can be perceived. What an accomplishment! My private
Christian schoolteachers would be so proud shocked.
Our fellow male blind dater was Russian. His nationality provided an opportunity to discuss Russian literature, something I know more about than my seeming conservativeness. LSHEED heard literature and ducked out conversation faster than most hot Angelinos can dodge a check. He started talking to the gorgeous straightedge life coach appointed to the Russian.
Russian is cool, though he doesn’t read much Russian
literature.
At some point during this tribulation, we collectively decided to leave our saké, in search of a facility serving intoxicating beverages later into the night. I was driving and,
consequently, not able to make use of one of my favorite coping mechanisms,
drinking copiously.
At the lounge, LSHEED proceeded to drink a scotch, tell me about his baseball scholarship, ask me what he presumably thought were deep questions, talk about growing up as a hoodlum (not necessarily a bad thing), relate his journey from athlete to a graduate school, order another scotch, than his journey from his unrelated degree to ownership of numerous businesses, and progressively invade my personal space. He followed me to the bathroom. He stood to close for anyone to be comfortable giving his ominous meaty stature. He cornered me as deeply into the crack between the wall and the couch as I could wedge myself. He placed my hand without my consent on his meaty chest to demonstrate how meaty it was. He grabbed
my hands while telling me what he liked about them and squeezed them till they
hurt.
My unresponsiveness culminated into the ultimate ego blow
when our fellow daters began necking on increasingly attractive couch next to
us. After all they were sitting on the whole coach where as I was sitting on a
crack and he was occupying the closest third of the couch.
He stared hazily at my mouth, licked scotch across his lips,
and began to describe how much he wanted to kiss them.
I generally don’t like the taste of scotch. I always don’t
like strange men touching me. And I never ever feel turned on by men using
their greater psychical mass in my personal space to demonstrate what a great
caveman they would have made thousands of years prior.
You want to show me what an able provider you are? Build me a new iphone.
Needless to say he had no 6s to offer me, and I had no desire to kiss him.
LSHEED, however, didn’t sit through that “No Means No” class in sixth grade. After I politely declined his equal parts scotch and fleshy lipped kiss, he tried asking again. Then describing what a good kisser he was. I hadn't previously considered how a hairless caveman would kiss.
He tried asking me more. Then LSHEED told me his hypotheses on how he thought I kissed: fabulously, if you were wondering. Then he asked some more, while continuing to invade my spacial bubble.
Finally, whatever reservations I held about my generally bitchy behavior went to Hell, where they most certainly belong. Exasperated, and fearing permanent damage to the invisible extension of my precious being known as personal space, I angrily commanded him to “Stop NAGGING me!”
Taken aback and amused he stammered, “Nagging? Nagging? I’m
not nagging; I’m trying to seduce you!”
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