My Worst Date Ever
I sometimes wish I had kept a blog in college, because life was much more exciting then — as far as dating goes. I broke up with my serious boyfriend half way through college and ended up being a bit of a “ho.” Life was was fun and carefree. I spent my weekends getting white girl wasted (I am going to be honest, this is a term I don’t fully understand but LOVE so I will continue to use it until someone calls me an idiot) with various friends, making them drive me to Taco Bell, and meeting many cute guys. I had game in college; I could pick up a dude with Harry Potter. Not that I don’t fully enjoy how I spend my weekends now, it just isn’t as interesting, I guess. Now I spend my weekends exploring different neighborhoods in NYC, going to museums and watching netflix with a glass of wine. And on the rare occasion that I do decide to get white girl wasted I usually get tired and grumpy if I am out past midnight.
But then I remembered — even though I didn’t have an outlet at the time, my younger days experiences are still my own and still funny to write about. So I thought I would share some stories from that time in my life, starting with the worst date I have ever been on.
Now, I don’t generally go on a lot of dates. I think they are uncomfortable and I would rather meet someone organically. Like, you know…make out with them at a bar and then give them my phone number rather than be set up. Set ups always feel forced. It’s like admitting you are desperate. Just two desperate people in a chain restaurant trying to force a connection based on a mutual friend. I am not saying it never works, but it has never worked for me. That being said, when I was 21 I agreed to a set up by someone that I didn’t know all that well. She was a friend of a friend, and she was convinced this guy was perfect for me — I now understand that he was someone she had been set up with and was just trying to get “off her jock.” She kept telling me how cute he was and what a great smile he had, and though I am generally not into black guys (I like my men very “white bread”), I agreed to the date because she made him sound so good.
Perhaps I was the idiot in this situation, like I should I have texted him for longer before agreeing to meet up. Or maybe when he suggested we get dinner at The Ram, I should have gone running in the other direction. Unfortunately for me, though, I did meet up with him one fateful night in the year of our lord 2009.
There I stood, shivering in the parking lot of The Ram; it wasn’t cold out, but as he walked up I noticed he was wearing an entire South Pole sweatsuit and the shivering was the only thing that stopped me from laughing. I mean, South Pole? REALLY? Couldn’t spring for the FUBU two piece? This dude shows up to a date with a fairly white bread girl, looking like he straight up robbed a Mervyns. ***SIDE BAR — when I told this story to a friend once, I went off about how lame his South Pole outfit was only to look across the empty bar and notice a man in a South Pole sweatshirt was sitting within earshot looking very sad.*** Anyway, we had an awkward hello and go sit inside, where in the harsh restaurant lighting I could see how unattractive he really was. Maybe he is cool though, I naively thought. I don’t remember his name, or much of the conversation but I do remember how uncomfortable I felt. He kept invading my personal space; not in a “there is chemistry between us” kind of way but more like he was trying to force chemistry that wasn’t there. I also remember that despite my ordering a beer, he ordered a some sort of strawberry lemonade frozen drink. SEXY.
The worst part of the night was near the end when we started talking about our families:
Him: So….is your dad white?
Me: No, we’re Asian.
Me: Yes, of course my dad is white. My whole family is.
Him: Yea……Must be nice.
Aftter he said that other things he had said during the night started to make sense and it suddenly dawned on me that this dude did not like white people. He made racist comments all night but I ignored them until he expressed to me that I am lucky to be white. Which was so weird, because this girl who knows him well enough to know this about him, set him up with a white girl. AND!!! AND he agreed to go out with a white girl, all while NOT REALLY LIKING WHITE PEOPLE.
Me: YES! It is nice being a part of the historically dominate race. LOVE IT.
Me: Too many big words?
I know it’s mean, but that is kind of who I am. And I really didn’t want this guy to like me. He was a dick all night and made me super uncomfortable so this was the last straw. I never wanted to hear from him again. Unluckily for me, he continued to text me for several months after this horrible date. I never responded which made him mad and he would usually text me something mean after every 5 or so unreturned texts.
Relationships are hard enough, I wouldn’t want to deal with racial tensions in one because the guy feels slighted by “the white man.”
Plus he was a fucking creep.