DATING: AL DENTE
Chapter 1: The Guy Who Jumped Out Of My Car
(go to the previous page)
The search for a watering hole began. Where did he want to go?
He didn't know. The Hard Rock? No, he didn't like rock music.
A British pub down the street? No, he wanted wine, not Guinness.
A trivia bar inside the mall? No, bar trivia wasn't challenging enough
for him. The bus depot? No, he didn't like the strength of the coffee
they made in the cafe. "Fuck it, YOU choose then," I said. So we ended up seated
on chintzy red vinyl chairs in a basement dive down the street from the
bus depot. Charming -- I chose to sit facing the fluorescent lighting of
the bar so I wouldn't have to stare into the fine detailing of his freaky
communist hat that was still perched on his head. And the circus began!
First he pretended to be a wine connoisseur, pooh-poohing all the flavours
that were scratched onto the chalkboard on the far wall by the can,
before choosing a glass for himself. He did not order a drink for me.
Oh yes, make no mistake, I had to call back the waitress to order my
own drink, to which he pooh-poohed again, saying that gin was Satan's
tonic. Well, bring it on! For the next half hour he faced me, cheap
vino in hand, his eyes full of child tantrum, and fired questions at me
until I was more exhausted than I could have been if I had opted to
spend a good 12 hours at the office instead.
This was the type of conversation one would expect to have many many dates down the road, not on the first one. He single-handedly shot down every belief, viewpoint, value and opinion that I had -- politics, abortion, music, children, weather, religion, travel, education, career, favourite colour, geography, books...FAT! Was this a date or was I staying late
after school, defending the dissertation of my very own life? Maybe he
was trying to break me down...make me weak...make me want to retire to
his lair in a passionate moment of carnal lust for the man.
Clash clash clash...fight fight fight...this guy was such a fucking moron, yet it was like driving by a wreck on the highway -- I was SO amused by his psychoses...I couldn't believe he was for real! He looked at me during one particularly heated moment and, leaning over to kiss my forehead,
told me, "You're a tough one!"
We finally did leave that shady little bar. I was left with the bill -- he had escaped to the bathroom and was conveniently waiting for me outside.
Go on to the next page.
|
|