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Date with a fascist
September 22, 2004
I have never reported here on a date during which I did not get laid. There are three reasons for this : 1. that’s not a date, 2. that’s wretchedly boring and not good for storytelling, 3. it rarely happens (because I’m slutty).
But! Today there is fuel for storytelling in my not getting laid.
I met up with a boy who I’ve been corresponding with since Sunday. He seemed a very nice boy, if a little quirky. I like them quirky though. But. But.
So: boy shows up at appointed meeting place. Instant not attraction. He is scruffy, not in that cute rough-around-the-edges way, but in the way that makes me question his hygiene habits. He is also short. Mind you, I actually really like men who are shorter than me, and often I wear heels around them, just cuz. However, he lied about his height, saying he was 5’ 10”. I am 5’6” and he was at least an inch or two shorter than me. I find lying about appearance appalling and sort of dumb - if we are going to meet up, I am going to find out, and I’m going to wonder about the sanity of the insecure person behind the lie.
So we decide to get sandwiches, both of us claiming poverty. I made the decision that we should go to Tiny’s Giant Sandwich Shop, which is a fabulous place in the Lower East Side. Its on Rivington Street, which is one of my favorite streets in the city because it features Tiny’s, Welcome to the Johnson’s ($3 Maker’s Mark), Toys in Babeland (sex toys, duh) and Teany (yummy vegan chocolate-peanut butter cake), all favorites of mine. But I digress.
Immediately after we order our sandwiches and sit down, I realize that the boy is a loud talker. Tiny’s is, well, tiny - there are three 2-person tables, two of which are pushed together - so this was a little embarrassing. We talk about his career as an illustrator, his time in art school, etc. Ok, he is making up for the weird first impression a bit. He amuses me because he seems to be the kind of person who doesn’t swallow rhetoric from either left or right without a fight. But then, the red flags:
- He hasn’t read a book in more than a year.
- The last book he read was about Hilter, who he thinks was “brilliant in his own way.”
- He thinks that Ronald Reagan was a “tactical genius.”
- He is seeking to produce an ideology that is both general and specific (like astrology) and usher in a new age of global imperialism through making people believe they have free will when they really don’t.
At this point, I am thinking that I need to end the date, and quickly.
I say, “Listen, I just don’t feel a lot of chemistry between us. I’ve had a nice time but I have to get going now.”
Well, in the ideal world of me not being ridiculous, that’s what I would have said. On a date for hire that’s what I would have said. But not on this date. No.
My phone begins to ring (salvation!) so I tell him I have to take the call, and I step outside (remember, Tiny’s is small, the front door is open, he is less than 10 feet from me). Its my mom, who I talk to briefly, and then tell her I have to get going. She hangs up and then I say loudly into the dead phone, “What?!? You’re fucking kidding me!” and then talk more quietly but in a frenzied voice.
When I go back into Tiny’s, he asks “Is there something wrong?” And I say, “My roommate just called and our apartment got broken into! She’s really freaked out. I should go home and do an inventory of my stuff to see if anything is gone.”
He offers to walk me to the subway. As we are standing near the subway stairs, my roommate walks up. She’s been visiting a friend in the neighborhood. I say to her, “I’ll catch up with you downstairs,” and she gives me a quizzical look.
He asks who she is, to which I respond, “She’s, uh, my neighbor.” And dart down the stairs.
Smooth, real smooth.
Posted by Dacia at September 22, 2004 10:01 PM
