Because every good first date deserves a second date--or so I thought. Earlier this month, I went on a date with SuperHot Classmate (SHC) where we drank wine and went to Sam's Club and a car wash and laughed until my cheeks hurt. So, last week, we went on date #2.
We met at a dive bar after I got out of class. So he was already batting a 1000 because we all know my extreme love for dive bars. Until I walked inside and he wasn't there. Fan of dive bars. Not a fan of sitting in dive bars by myself waiting. So I text him. Call him. Finally the little asshole picks up. "I'll be right in." He proceeds to walk in with the manager, and stands a good 40 feet away, not acknowledging my presence or waving or saying hello or god forbid MAKING EYE CONTACT. Another man comes up and starts hitting on me, and he still is not moved to come over.
Finally, I go over. I get introduced to the manager. The manager gets the point (finally. How does someone so dense run a successful business?) and we sit and talk for a little bit. SHC turns and goes "let's get out of here, I've been here all day working out a business deal. Want to go back to my place for a drink?"
I know, I know. I should've said no. But I am a hopeless donor of second chances and I wanted him to be better than this. So, so much better. The first date was so fun! I couldn't believe it was ending in this awfulness! So I said yes.
He pours me a drink, and I'm sitting on the couch when all of a sudden...I smell something.
Homeboy just straight up whips out a bong and sits down next to me.
Doesn't ask if I'm ok with this. Doesn't ask if I want any.
Just smokin' away.
Homeboy, you don't know me!
Why, why would you do that around someone you don't know?
I decide it's time to go. I ask him to walk me to my car (which I'm extremely pissed that I even have to ask him to do) to which he responds with the potentially most self-righteous, absolute asshole of a one-liner that will live in infamy:
"You're a grown ass woman, you can take the elevator by yourself."
And then the date ended with me telling him I wasn't kidding, dragging him by the wrist to the elevator (he lives in a not-so-safe neighborhood, no way in hell was I walking down by myself). Finally, I get to the elevator, SHC in tow. As soon as I step into the elevator, he karate-chops, KARATE CHOPS, my wrist and RUNS AWAY.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
May all your dates this weekend be better than this!