Dates (and no figs)
After a heart wrenching break up with Nam Hee, I am ready to get back into that wacky and irksome world of dating. Dating various people, dating girls I have no interest in, dating girls I have too much interest in and dating girls that I shouldn’t be spending time with. Here are two of my recent adventures.Girl 1: Gorgeous and typically Russian. Met her on JDate. She texted me all throughout her vacation in Las Vegas (good sign # 1) and was interested solely in a long term relationship (good sign # 2). We finally get together and she is smoking hot in person. I am feeling good, have a great day planned for us and a good outfit on. Good conversation all the way to Serendipity 3, an emporium of desserts and a Mecca for tourists. I had a birthday party there was I was about 10 in which the foot long hot dog was the cuisine of choice…and never went back. We get to this fine purveyor of chocolate yumminess and the line is out the door. I inform her that “I hate waiting on line” and proceed to “new york” my way to the front (i.e. saying excuse me and then pushing past regardless of response). I tell the teenage maitre’d that I tip well and he tells me to wait outside.
We go outside and I realize I am going to have to bribe him to get into the place or otherwise I am going to be looking at a menu for two hours outside the store thinking about what I want to eat after my stomach has already devoured itself from impatience. Folding up a Hamilton the girl is too impressed for words and stands there wide eyed and in awe of my smoothness. I am slightly in awe of myself as well.
The guy comes out, the money is palmed and 5 minutes later we are sitting at one of the best tables ordering the famous frozen hot chocolate. I can feel the eyes of 100 angry tourists burning into the back of my Jewish skull as we sit down. Money talks in the city.
We leave, we kiss, we smile intently. She cancels our plans the following week with a lame explanation and I dismiss her for the rest of existence. Perhaps I shouldn’t have held her hand as we left the joint, slightly buzzed from the massive influx of chocolate but no matter. I delete all her emails.
Girl 2: I met her at a rare opening of the gardens at Rockefeller center. She is a short, kind of cute, Filipino / Thai chick with the body type of a slightly deflated beachball under her Old Navy coat. I did not realize the roundness until our actual date. I strike up a conversation with witty bon mots and photography tips both of which go over her head. This could be in part due to her height or her brain power but regardless, I find myself saying all the right things. She feigns that she is impressed, I give her my business card in hopes she will send me her pictures that she and I took of the gardens so I have a copy. She tells me she has to go to church after Rockefeller center which I pay no mind to.
Thankfully she emails me the pictures; unfortunately I ask to get together. I get a text at 6:30am Sunday morning asking to hang out and I agree.
I need a new pair of glasses and a second opinion, no matter how asinine, so I drag her to Lens Crafters on the Upper East Side. Within 4 seconds of meeting her, I know two things: 1, I am not attracted to her at all, and 2, she talks way too loudly. Coming from me that means her voice can be heard in Brooklyn. We are in Lens Crafters and I am trying to ask the sales girl why the only frames on sale look like Dame Edna rejects when she exclaims in her softest voice (which shatters glass) that the glasses make me look “like a gay guy” and that they “are fucking ugly”. I sigh and give a sorrowful look at the elderly couple 5 feet to my right out for a nice afternoon stroll and some errand running. Her coat is off and I notice her midsection looks like she has had a Goodyear for breakfast and it is now sitting horizontally on top of her belt.
I imagine her at the dinner table, voice booming, at my parents house and shudder slightly. I know that I have to leave and can never return to this eyeglass store for at least 2 years. I shuffle her out of the store and inform her that I am skipping our follow up movie and going home to take care of things. She dithers and looks at me like I am a total cretin and I begin to walk to the bus stop, hoping she will roll away into the sewer so I don’t have to be seen with her in public any longer. She follows obediently and tells me she has to go to church, as if conversing with me allows Satan to creep in. We hug at the bus stop and I immediately delete all messages from her that my phone has conveniently stored.
My next date, at this rate, should be a mass of bubbling ooze who works in theatre production.
posted by UpperWestSideGuy @ 7:28 PM
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