Crazy First Date #77: Insulting CrackBerry Addict

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via DaylifeWarning: This post is gonna be long.

Ya gotta love PlentyOfFish for being free so all the wackos can get on it.

I met this guy, right… he’s pretty much okay looking, just not what I’d be on the hunt for (I like DARK hair, darkest brown or black. I like tan or olive complexions. I like tall men. I like men where I can imagine myself wrapped up in their arms and feeling small and safe) but he was ok looking.

We chatted online for a day or so, and we had a lot in common. The fire department thing, the mixed Italian heritage, very similar values on work and family and marriage. I thought that this was too good to be true (and I think he kind of did to) so we just really had to meet fact to face.

We meet up this past Sunday for coffee at Panera, one of my favorite places. He’s cuter in person than in his photos, still not my “ideal” but what the hay, sometimes a girl’s gotta sacrifice somewhere. (Kidding! Seriously, he was okay looking.)

He opened doors, paid for coffee, all was nice. We talked a lot, and I got a little nervous when he started mentioning his brother and drugs in the same sentence, but I thought, “Okay, that’s his brother, not him necessarily.”

Then, I’m in the middle of a story, and he gives me this death stare and says, sternly as if to scold me, “You’re LOUD. You’re LOUD. Quiet down.”

Uh.

Hm.

Okay, then.

Now I’m insulted but I figured whatever, I’m not going to change me for you, and now you owe me dinner, bitch.

So we go to dinner, and I’m trying to be more accepting. I really seriously tried.

He then says to me, “You LOOK like the kind of girl who’d date a black guy.”

I say, “Excuse me? First, why would you say that? What about my appearance makes you think that?”

He says, “Well, it could be those ghetto fabulous earrings you’re wearing for one thing.”

Uh.

Hm.

Okay, then.

So I tried to change the subject, I asked him if he could name all the members of The Beatles. He said, “Uhhhh Paul McCartney. But I don’t give a shit. So whatever.”

I said, “You seriously can’t even give first names?”

He says, “No, and I think it’s really weird that you think that’s so important.”

Uh.

Hm.

Okay, then.

So then after dinner, I’m ready to just go home. He talks me into going bowling. I figured it’d be a good release of negative energy to throw a 10-pound ball down the lanes into some pins, so I agreed. Plus I was bored and wanted to see what crazy crap would come out of his mouth next.

Oh – incidentally… the ENTIRE NIGHT, his CrackBerry was out in front of us, and whenever it vibrated or beeped, he’d pick it up, text something, and put it down. This happened about every 5 minutes throughout the night. SO EFFING RUDE, GUYS. I don’t care how important you think you are, the first time you meet a new girl, put the damn thing away.

End of the night, post bowling (and post him rubbing my shoulders and making a grazing motion across my ass) he gave me a hug, kiss on the cheek, and I was done.

Next morning I get a text: Good Morning, Sunshine!

Okay, color me confused, but why the hell was this guy interested in someone he accused of being too loud, wearing “ghetto fabulous” earrings, who looked like she would be the kind of girl to date a black guy (as if he felt that would be a bad thing).

So I decide to have an IM conversation, again, mostly out of curiosity. He then goes on to start getting all sexual in the convo, and proceeds to tell me that if it’s “been a few weeks” he won’t hesitate to start making phone calls to get someone to come over and take care of the problem.

Uh.

Okay.

Now I’m done.

So I explain that I’m pretty happy not being a bar whore or a booty call, and he’d better get off the computer with me and on to making his important calls.

He tells me he was kidding. Riiiight.

I’m on the phone with him later on, as he’s trying to convince me to give him another chance, because he really likes me, blah blah, and I’m hearing all this rustling noise.

I ask him what he’s doing, he tells me “texting”.

AAAARGH!!!!

So I asked, “What the hell is that damn important, when you’re on the phone with someone, to text back?”

Are you ready for his answer? Don’t have any beverages in your mouth when you read this next line, okay?

“It was a buddy of mine who was looking for something and I’m sure you can guess what I’m talking about but anyway I told him where to get it.”

Yes, all in one breath like that.

I flipped out. “DRUGS!?! YOU’RE DOING A DAMN DRUG DEAL WHILE YOU’RE ON THE PHONE WITH ME!? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? DUDE, YOU’RE SICK! I’M DONE, HAVE A WONDERFUL LIFE, LOSER.”

He tried to call back after I hung up on him. I didn’t answer. What a fucking fruitcake!

And people wonder why women are choosing to be single mothers these days… people wonder!!!