Guys! Note to self: Don't show up on a first date in track pants!

My friend Shelley and I were talking today after class....and she brought up a date story I had told her about before I had gotten married. Obviously, she was in need of a good laugh.

I met this guy through a friend....a friend of a friend you could say. Ha! He seemed pleasant enough through phone conversations (this was before texting and internet stuff, for me anyway), so I decided to go out with him. I told him I would meet him in his town vs. mine. There was waaaay more to offer than here. Secretly, I was hoping he would take me to a place nothing less than spectacular. He was a lawyer for cripes sake, so I guess my expectations were a bit high to begin with.

We met in a shopping mall parking lot. I drove up with much anticipation. I had seen a picture of him, so I was in the know a little bit of what to expect. He was 6'4" and from the pic appeared to weigh about 250, and not the muscular kind....but that was ok! I was working on liking the person, not the appearance.

.....but I digress

I get out of my car and I swear, I see him "arise" out of his. And I don't mean "arise" as in the parting of the seas arise. I mean when he got out of his car, the driver's side shot up a foot from the weight relief. I shit you not.

holyshit holyshit holyshit

So I say to myself, "ok. it was an older picture....let's not forget we are trying to focus on personality, not appearance!"

but oh good god...are you fucking KIDDING me?

I'm standing there by my car door. Not only do I see him, but I smell him. Oh my god the cologne.....he must inject it, piss it out, then drink it, I think. He wreeeeeeaked. AND! not only were my olfactory senses being assaulted, but as the parking lot lights came into play, so did his semi-track suit.

oh my god are you KIDDING me?

He was wearing black running pants, the kind with the two white stripes on the side, a polo shirt, and a leather jacket.....and don't forget the tennis shoes.

I'm sure I had a look of bewilderment on my face, to say the least...and these words emit from his mouth..."Wow, you dressed up!"

Well no fucking shit dipshit dumbass assface of course I dressed up....I drove a fucking hour and a half because your little city has so soooo much more variety to offer than my doo-hicky town and of course I fucking dressed up....dumbass assface asshat dumbass.

But there I was...still trying to save him.

"ok" I say to myself..."maybe he is going to take me to someplace intimate...a little mom and pop place that is not only exquisite, but extremely romantic....he knows the owners and he doesn't need to dress up to impress ..hell, he's got the whole fucking place just for us!"

Michelle, Michelle, Michelle

All this is racing through my mind. We exchange quick pleasantries and I get into his car. Oh my god that smell.

Then he utters.....

Him: Soooo, what do you feel like?
Me: Oh I don't know, what do you have in mind?

Him: How about Red Lobster?
Me: Are you fucking kidding me? no, I didn't say that, but you know I was thinking it.

save him Michelle, keep going.....

Me: No, I don't really feel like fish....what else is there?

Knowing full well, this is a college town...there are TONS of great places to eat. I wasn't raised in the town, but at the time, I had lived there long enough to know that little tid-bit, sheesh....

Him: Well, there's an Outback, a Sizzler, and...

and before he could get the third place out, I said

Me: Outback will do.

Because, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????

He didn't have a plan at all! Noooo beautiful place to eat!!! Nooooo romanic little Mom and Pop place...Gaaaaah!

We walk into the restaurant, get seated, get menus. I order an appitizer, the biggest one so we can share. But I notice, he never opens his menu...what's up with that?

Ok, ok, it's Outback, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to order. So I say...

Me: I ordered the large one so we could share.
Him: It's okay, I won't eat it. I'm sure it will smell good though!

Wha?

Then these thoughts come racing back to me. I vaguely remember him telling me that he doesn't eat much meat.

Me: Ohhh, ok...

Small talk is made. Honestly, I don't remember. The appetizer arrives and I eat almost all of it, but hey, no biggie.

The waitress comes by and asks if we are ready to order. I have fillet with some stuff (yeah, I can't remember, think it was mashed potatoes and broccoli), and he orders a baked potato.

that is all. a baked potatoe.

I look at him and he smiles really big. As the waitress leaves, I say...

Me: That's all you're going to eat??? A baked potato???
Him: That's all I ever get when I go out, a baked potato.

Me: Wow
Him: You should see when my daughter comes out with me! The only thing she'll order is macaroni and cheese, so we get a baked potato and mac and cheese!

Me: You could do that at home....(I spoke with such a whisper that I think he didn't hear me, it was more of me thinking outloud)
Him: ... .....

By this time, I'm in all out "I don't give a shit anymore" mode. This guy could not be saved. Nuh uh, nada, zilch and I didn't give a shit.

My food came and by god I ate almost every bite.

...more small talk......

After I devoured it all, almost, I noticed he still had baked potato left. Ew....he fucking squeezed into the booth people.....

Him: You want dessert?
Me: No, no thank you.

Him: I didn't eat all of this and I'm already full!

because you ate two packages of hotdogs before we met

Me: Uh, yeah I see that.

I wanted to exit soo badly.......we drove back to my car and I thanked him for dinner.

I never returned his calls and he eventually quit calling.

You know, I didn't care how much money he made, how big his house was, or how many gifts I could have been showered with, there was no way in hell I could have or would have a relationship with that person!

Looking back, it is funny....well, at least Shelley thinks so;P

*** Oh my gosh, I forgot to mention the raw hamburger......

After the 'mac~n~cheese' story and before my 'I don't give a shit' mode, I asked him a question..

Me: Sooo, what DO you eat?
Him: I like pizza, hotdogs, you know....

So he likes to eat shit....okaaaay (which I eat that stuff too, but it's not my whole diet)

Me: You don't eat meat?
Him: Oh I love the smell! But I can chew and chew, I just can't swallow it.

Me: So no meat at all?? wow.
Him: Well, I can eat raw hamburger.



And the whole time, he's smiling and keeps making this 'a-hil a-hil' noise (imagine the 'hil' part going up about three octaves) and he would sigh making this noise 'a-hillllluh' that contained some remnants of a yodel. I shit you not.

Avoiding eye contact as much as possible, but at times when I did catch a glimpse of him, he wasn't just looking at me, he was looking at me like I had pizza smeared all over me with added hotdog accessories.

heehee...a-hil a-hil a-hil