Another 1st date. He showed up, and really didn’t look anything like his picture. Not bad, just not like his picture.
Strike 1: While waiting for a table, we got a drink at the bar. We had to pay the tab there, I did “the reach,” and he let me pay. I figured – okay, he’ll pick up dinner. I can pick up a couple of beers.
Strike 2: We went to Brixx (home of fabulous specialty pizzas, including my fave, the Rustica) – he ordered pepperoni. No imagination.
Conversation was…fine. Yes, I mean that as it sounds. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t great. Slightly stilted. He continually talked about his new car (he has four), a Mercedes convertible. Do you know how much he paid for it? I do. Oh, and he pays a fortune on a house in Charleston every month, because he’s still in transition, and living with “mommy and daddy” in Troutman while he tries to sell it. When the bill came, I didn’t even bother with “the reach,” and I think he was a little perturbed about that. Hey – I got drinks.
Then we went across the street to get a drink and talk some more. (I know – if I was already “whatever” about him, why did I bother with another drink?) On the way, we stopped at my car to drop off my leftovers. (I parked behind the building Brixx is in, in Birkdale, for those of you who know the area. Nice enough neighborhood, but still, back of the building is fairly deserted. Keep that in mind.) Then we went across the street to Fox and Hound. Talked some more, had another drink.
Strike 3: The bill came for the drinks, and he didn’t even look at it. Fine, I thought, I’ll pay for these drinks, too – dinner came to more than that, I’m sure. And this is a first date, so it’s not like it’s too big of a deal. But still, a gentleman would have paid. Especially a gentleman who can afford four cars and a big house payment. Whatever.
So, I’ve pretty much made up my mind at this point that, although he seems like a decent enough guy, I don’t really want to date him, I’m not really attracted to him, and, quite honestly, I really don’t even want to be friends with him. And then…
Strike 4: We exit Fox and Hound, and he says, “Okay, well I’m parked over here, so I’ll see you.” WHAT?! I swear my jaw dropped, and I must have had a look of disbelief on my face. I don’t even get escorted to my car? Which is in the deserted area behind the building, where nobody will see if I get attacked? You know what, he could have paid for drinks, dinner, more drinks, and looked like Brad Pitt – but I still would have been peeved if he hadn’t walked me to my car. COMMON COURTESY, dammit.
And before you say, “Maybe he just wasn’t interested” – He left me a message to make another date.