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Saturday, June 4, 2011


Everybody knows when they've been on a less-than-stellar date. We've all had them: it just doesn't quite gel, your personalities conflict, you've got different interests... whatever. Usually, though? It's not a HORRIBLE experience, it's just not right FOR YOU. ThIs?? Would have made THAT look good.

So, setting the stage: Steve. That is actually his first name; but after all these years I don't remember his last name. If I did, not going to lie - I'd be tempted to post it as a cautionary tale for any woman that MIGHT be able to recognize him.. just to spare them what I went through! LOL It was May of 2007, that much I do remember. I'd met him online; he'd sent me a message and I went to his page. I was in my 'only going out with guys who are GROWN UP & have their stuff together phase' so when I looked at his page? Seemed good. Worked from home, actually did consulting with my Dad's company among others, and lived in the neighborhood next to the one I was looking at relocating the girls/I to... so, conveniently close since at that point? Was reasonably positive I -never- wanted to get remarried & I don't do the cohabitation thing. He had 2 kids, too and said they came first... check, check, checks were being marked off all over my mental 'qualifications' list. So, set a meeting. We met & it went well - he was polite, social, not quite as cute as his pictures but seemed really steady & stable. So, he asked me on a second date.

And this? Is where crazy TOTALLY came out to play...

The day that worked out for both of us a meeting came up for me that afternoon. I had just started doing freelance work; so taking this meeting was a priority & it wasn't scheduled to be done until 5:30 in Las Colinas - our date was set for 6pm in McKinney. He wasn't worried about it; just told me to meet him at his house and we'd go from there - that way it didn't matter if I was there after 6. Told him I didn't want to come in; but would call him when I met the neighborhood.

So... there's the backstory...

6:01 - I get out of my meeting; there were 15 MORE people than they'd prepared me for... so, it was a little hard to wrap up. Get a hold of Steve; he's cool - just meet him at his house- might need to come in for a minute so he can wrap up some work. Don't normally like doing that; but I WAS the one running late.

6:45 - get to his neighborhood, but the directions he's given me are wrong. He meant to say left, but accidentally said right, evidently. Called him when it was clear there was a directional problem; but he didn't answer... texted me to say the door was open when I got there, though. After 20 minutes and directions from a random runner? I find his house. He's on the phone with the vet because evidently, his dog? Tore apart a small dog toy & ate the squeaker/bell/whatever. Well, shucks.. can't hold that against him. Except now he can't find the dog.

6:50-7:15 - For TWENTY FIVE MINUTES we look for the dog in pretty much every room of his house. EVERY SINGLE ROOM has a large & gross amount of dried dog poop, pee stains, poo stains, dog throw-up & black paint in his kids' room from where he's made them built-ins but didn't bother to cover what looked like once very expensive carpet. Wrangle the dog to his big truck; he puts the dog in the back; but decides he shouldn't be alone.

You'd THINK this is where he'd ask me to drive or see if I was comfortable putting him in the Pacifica. NOPE. He asked if I wouldn't mind sitting back in the back with the dog. Now, I'm in a silk suit-dress with a lined jacket... it's ALL dry-clean. THIS? Is not dog-friendly; but I decide Sammy - the dog - is more important than my clothes. Sure.

7:15-7:20 - we drive to the vet in the neighborhood. WITHOUT air conditioning and the back windows rolled up so Sammy wouldn't move around. Lined Suit Jacket. I'm hot. Did I mention he HAS A/C in his truck; he just didn't want the gas mileage hit??

7:20 We get to the vet. There's a scrub-clad lady waiting outside who was smiling until? She opened the back door & saw... ME. Then? She started screaming at Steve. Holy wow. Evidently? scrub-chick is Steve's ex-wife & they've been divorced for less than 6 months. GREAT. I sit there, probably looking like a deer-in-the-headlights. Steve pulls her from the door, gets the dog out, and asks me to wait in the truck.

No problem. Told him I'd move up front because it was a little stuffy in back & check messages. He smiles, apologizes again, and then? Rolls Down The Windows Up Front and Takes Out The Keys. Wow... this guy CLEARLY doesn't get that my outfit? Isn't breathable. I console myself with the thought that this really shouldn't take long.

8:00 - I'm hot. I'm actually sweating. I'm -STILL- in the car by myself. I'm also? Fed up. I go inside & scrub chick shoots me a look and says, "We're closed."

"Totally get it. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to be... but, I'm kind of stuck hostage here & that truck? Is hotter than a New York Sidewalk in August. So, if I can just get the keys or the driver? I'll get out of your hair." Scott winces... normally, I'd feel bad for being a little rude but this? Was ridiculous.

She actually softened a bit and called Steve an as*hole & told him to give me the keys. At which point? He took the dog back and told her to go F herself. Oh.Yes.He.Did.

"So now what?? Unless that dog's had a really bad bathroom experience then you're not done here, Steve. What's going on??"

"Dog needs surgery. Have to take him to another vet. Let's go."

"Could you drop me by my car first? I really need to be getting home to the kids; we scheduled this early so the babysitter wouldn't be out late."

"No. I need your help with this. Get in the truck please."

"Pardon?... You know, this is stressful. I get it. Let's just get this handled; I'm happy to help- but I'm not going to have time for dinner afterwards. "

8:20 - We get to the other vet place that's got the overnight surgery team, etc. He gets out of the truck and takes the keys... before he gets out? I stop him.

"Steve, I'm not going to steal your car. I also don't really want to die of heat exhaustion. Could you please leave them so there's air conditioning - if it's a matter of the gas mileage then I'd happily pay to refill your truck... but seriously, lined jackets don't breathe well. Alternatively, I can wait in the reception area or something if you'd prefer."

"I like the heat - you really think you need air?"

"yes. This is a non-negotiable point, Steve. Please pick the option you prefer."

*SIGH* "Come on in then." OMGosh, I've GOT to figure out some sort of screen-out for obliviousness. This guy? Would have failed, without question.

8:50 - We FINALLY get to leave. I get back in the truck and we take off... in the opposite direction of his neighborhood. We end up at?? Chilis.. he's decided 'I deserve' dinner after all I went through. Well, probably... but I don't want it and I promised the babysitter I'd be there at 9. "Steve, I really don't have time for this tonight - I have to be 25 minutes up the road 10 minutes from now. I need to get back to my car. Like NOW, please."

"It'll be fine; call your sitter. We're going to have a nice evening." Holy Crud. I'm SO never talking to this guy again - but it's also much further than I'm going to try to walk in 4" heels. So, I call the sitter and we go in. He proceeds to literally spend the ENTIRE time we're in there complaining: about the food, about the waitress, about how loud it is, about how boring Chili's food is, about his ex-wife, about how -I- look a little wilted. No kidding, jerk... I've spent the evening in your hot truck, with your slobbery dog, in the heat. I'm livid... but sit there quietly listening. BTW, he asked not ONE question the entire night - just went on, and on, and on....

9:35 - I ask the waitress to bring the check. She does and looks at him... HE? Looks at me and says, "Well, if you want the check so bad I guess you can pay for it." Normally, I might have actually looked at him and reminded him that it was HIM that said I deserved dinner and yada, yada, yada... but, I just wanted to get this show on the road. I pay the bill and off we go.... but NOT before he PASSES GAS, PASSING TABLES on the way out.

This? Is so bad you couldn't make it up. I wanted? To die; I was so completely mortified. But, on the upside? He DID say 'excuse me.' This guy has a masters degree, this guy has good employment, but I totally get why he's divorced. He SHOULD NOT be allowed near any woman... or civilized person in any social setting, really.

9:50 - Back at his house. His neighbors are outside and as I'm walking to my car, he brings them over and INTRODUCES ME AS THE GIRL HE'S DATING. Ok, I'm going to be crude for a second... but really, what the hell?! His next door neighbor picks up on my mixture of incredulousness & utter disdain and smirks a bit. Something tells me Steve's been oblivious after a bad date before... I politely say hello & explain I'm hideously late to relieve the sitter but was great to meet them. Steve? Promptly excuses them so "we can PROPERLY say our goodbyes."

I totally threw up in my mouth a little bit. And then, while they were talking through that? I started to get in my car. He runs over and grabs the door as I'm closing it and ASKS FOR A KISS. Seriously, this guy is deluded or he's got massive brass. Either way? Not.Happening.
My response? "Oh yeah, um... no thank you. Glad your dog will be ok - really got to go. Later!"

10:15 - Babysitter goes home. I log on the computer to see an email - "Want to go out Friday night??" It took EVERYTHING in me not to respond, "Why? Have a cat who'll have a hernia you'll need help with????"

Worst. Date. Ever.

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