Hiding Feathers

I went out with a guy the other night for exactly one hour. How do I know? Because I was timing it. My girlfriend (who I was going to meet after) needed a solid hour to get ready. That gave him one hour of face-time with me and it gave me one hour to put as many drinks on his tab as possible. I can’t really sequence the night because I showed up a little buzzed (a guy would never assumes a girl is a little drunk.) However, I can tell you at what point I stopped listening!

Me: (half assedly mumbling and sipping Vodka) “So what do you do for a living?”

Him: “I’m an actor”

I decided that I hated him. I like to start all first dates from that point. I hate you — now you have to make me not hate you. Ready…..go.

We went to a nice lounge in Toluca Lake for a few drinks. My first impression of him wasn’t bad. He was more handsome than I had remembered and he wasn’t short. (must be at least 5’11 to ride) However he had the demeanor off a loud New Yorker. He had that in-your-face kind of personality. I prefer my men silent.

A flower lady walked by… He said “I’m not buying you a rose, that would be awkward”

I glared. And ordered another drink.

He told me that he played a murderer on one of those dramatic cop shows. I laughed. And then I was scared. A murderer? How did he play a murderer so well? I don’t want to give him credit for being a good actor. He must have lots of natural murderer-like tendencies.

He asked me if I traveled. No, I don’t fucking travel you moron. I’m 22. Did you miss the part where I said I went to community college? Fuck you. I’m one uncultured mother fucker. In fact, I’m the opposite, Ill suck the culture right outta you.

He asked where my I.D was. I told him I lost my wallet and that I was waiting for a new I.D in the mail. He said, “haha, you know if you’re not quite 21 that’s ok with me.” Ew gross. What a nasty pervert. I hate him so much right now but I only have 20 minutes left and Im trying to pre-party before ditching him for my friends.

At the end of the night he was touching my shoulder and scooting closer to me. I moved back. I put my jacket on. I folded my arms. I sat at the edge of my seat and crossed my legs away from him. That was full-body language. That specific combination of gestures means, “I hate you.”

He leaned in and swept my bangs back and said “You’re giving my eyes.”

No i am not sir. I am getting a good buzz going and my eyes are slitty from Vodka.  Do not confuse this with sultry bedroom eyes.

Bizarre. I’m glad I went though. I think of it as “practice dating.” Watching people ramble nervously is a reminder of how not to act on dates.