August 26, 2010

A Guest Post by LEESA

My Most Memorable Bad Date.

I haven’t really ‘dated’ much. I’ve had a lot of relationships and I’ve slept around. It was fuck or play house, not really much in between. I’ve read countless articles in magazines about what makes a perfect date, but like the elusive woodland nymph, I don’t think I’ve ever really believed it existed.

One common thread in the magazine articles is to always be on your ‘best behaviour’. Be polite, don’t be intrusive, don’t interrupt, don’t talk about your exes, have table manners, don’t swear, don’t mention politics or sex, be courteous, dress nicely, don’t be aggressive, combative, opinionated, hard-headed, sexually motivated, etc. Essentially what it all means is…

DON’T BE YOURSELF.

How is that even remotely helpful when you’re trying to have fun? Don’t bother pondering. The answer is simple. You can’t.

Dates, especially first ones, are not fun. They are job interviews, and how often do you have fun at a job interview?  Uh huh, that’d be NEVER. My philosophy up to this point has always been that if nothing else, a date should be memorable, so you have memories that last a lifetime whether you get the ‘job’ or not. In my 25 years of fucking and relating, I’ve sought out the weird, the odd, the unusual, the strange and the different – anything that would make a date unforgettable. Today I’m going to tell you about a date with a man I’ll never forget…

–

It was 1997 and I’d been chatting online since 1995 (yes I know, I was a pioneer). I met a guy in a chat room. He emailed me a picture. He was hot. He was half Native and half Latino. Dark skin, tattoos and he was leaning up against a wall of graffiti. His name was Gabriel. (How hot is that?! I know!!)

Gabriel/Rod's other girl, Ann.

We exchanged a few emails and then we were ready for our ‘date’. I wanted to head downtown to a club or go see a band. But, Gabriel had other ideas. His plan for the date was to go back to his place, drink wine by candlelight and entertain ourselves with a little Ann of Green Gables (yes, you read that correctly). I was willing to be flexible. I figured after the wine and some good conversation tattoo-boy would forget all about Ann and her Gables anyway.

Our date, turned out to be a night of great discovery. I found out that Gabriel wasn’t his real name, well at least not the one he’d been given at birth. It was Rod. But, he was a ‘spritual’ guy so he’d legally changed his name while searching for himself in…in the Gables, I guess. And as for the wine by candlelight, his electricity had been turned off the week before (nice touch, eh?), so it was more pragmatic than romantic. And as for Ann? Well, Gab, the spiritual guy formerly known as Rod, was committed to the two of us immersing ourselves in her maritime paradise.

Now I know what you’re all thinking: How could we watch Ann of Green Gables with no electricity? Oh, did you assume we were going to watch Ann on TV? People, Gabriel-or-Rod was far too cool for that. He had bigger plans for the two of us. He had a well worn copy of the book and he said he wanted us to…

READ IT. ALOUD. TOGETHER. BY CANDLELIGHT.

Just sit back and absorb that for a moment.

.

(I know some of you are still absorbing, but I gotta get on with the story. Really I do.)

Upon hearing this I said,

‘Gabriel, I just love a good reading. How about you take the reins on this one tonight?’

He happily agreed and I started drinking. I eventually downed the entire bottle. I had to. It was the only way to save myself from Ann. Ann of Green Gables. Ann. Of. Green. Gables!!!

As my wine buzz kicked in I reclined on the floor and closed my eyes to listen to the sound of his voice. It was then I noticed how off he sounded.

C’mon Gabby Rod, there’s obviously a ball of phlegm the size of a baseball lodged in your throat. Cough it up man.

He must’ve been reading in his phlegm-tinged, monotone voice for just over 30 minutes when my wine buzz started getting angry with me. I realized I had to get out of there. I needed to end this nightmare. I got my butt up off the floor and demanded he take me home. He agreed. But before we could leave Gabriel, aka Rod, had to put ALL the candles out. He made a production of reaching for a candle snuffer on the mantle. Then he slowly made his way around the room putting out each one.

A fucking candle snuffer? This can’t be happening?

There must have been 40 f’in candles (at least) and he was working slowly, snuffing each candle out with a whole lot of Emo-ness. Yes, my stomach turned and in that instant I knew that I hated everything about that man. Once GabrielRod got me safely back to my place, and I finally got him to drive away (only after promising to got out with him again later that week) I knew it would be the last time I laid eyes on him.

–

Moral of my story: It’s a cruel world out there. Listen to the magazines. There is absolutely no room for ‘being yourself’, especially if: you can’t pay your electricity bill, you own a candle snuffer, and your idea of a good date is reading Ann of Green Gables – aloud.

Share This

---

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
•