You know what's awkward? Explicitly stating to someone that the two of you are not going on a date and then having it turn into one.
I made a new Starbucks barista friend who wanted to try a new restaurant, at which my foodie self perked up. Ooh, okay! I am so naive.
A little background: I recently broke up with my boyfriend and after a break up, I like to give myself some time to be single. Also, I have a 6’2 and over policy -- that is, I won’t date anyone shorter than 6’2. I met this boy four days after I ended things and for good measure, he barely brushed 5’8. To cover all my bases, I made sure to verbally (aloud and in text) ascertain that:
Me: "This is not a date. We're just going as friends right?"
I am so naive.
He also told me that he likes girls who don't wear make up. I happened to be going make up free the day we met, so I figured to really hammer in this friend thing, I'd put on as much as I possibly could. Of course, I forgot foundation, but that's neither here nor there. Here's what I got:
It started with me grabbing my BH 120 palette and my Lancome Artliner and smearing on as much as I could, continued with an incorrectly coloured brow pencil to give myself the unruliest brows I could muster and ended with a bright orange lip, courtesy of MAC Pro. I took a step back and was like, Damn...this is kind of editorial! Post??
Then the whole evening became such a farce that I had to elaborate - it would have been gossip sacrilege to keep it all to myself.
So dinner wasn't that bad, he didn't do anything overly pretentious or annoying - except when he talked. We'd chatted a few times and I'd never gotten the impression that anything was wrong with him (if I only knew then...), but as the conversation progressed throughout the night he got...weird. As in, seemed increasingly more like a pathological liar.
The boy is 21 and he'd told me that he was in a committed relationship for seven years. Okay, high school sweethearts - fine. I can accept that. Then he went on to tell me about a bet he'd made when he was twelve with three to four other friends: whoever sleeps with the most people by the time they're 30, the others will get together and buy the winner a car.
First off, does that not seem exactly like a bet only twelve year olds would make? As in, it's stupid beyond all belief and should have been forgotten within 3 weeks? He says it's still going - that one of his friends is at 250 or so, and he himself is almost at 200 and he wants the 200th to be "someone special." Um, ew? And why would "someone special" matter if you're just trying to get a car out of it? And please don't ever share a drink with me? Oh god, we're having tapas. I may have just contracted an STD now. Third - where did you find the time to sleep with 200 women during your seven years of committed relationship? This question I actually asked and he goes, "Oh we were on and off a lot." Oooookay.
Above all, his stories just seemed to get more and more elaborate, to the point where it felt like he was just making things up as fast as he could. I'm also kind of doubting that he's 21 - I would not be surprised if he were an mature-looking high schooler. Seriously - a car if you sleep with the most people. And that by 21 you've slept with 200 people? Hey, do what you want - I'm not here to judge - but only a child would think that such a thing would be something you'd throw out there to impress the ladies.
Folks, I give you permission to cringe at the following: He insisted on paying, which I'm fine with - among my friends, we don't split the bill; we just alternate between meals. However, based on the following conversation, boy apparently thought I was a hooker.
Him: So...I’m going to pull the dinner card and insist you come back to my place for a drink. Y’know, because I paid.
Me: ...Are you calling me a hooker?
Maybe my makeup job was a little too good.
After not-so-subtly informing him that I am not, in fact, a sex worker, I was about to make my way home so I tried to give him a friendly hug. He completely rejected it. As in, entire body flinched away from me and he took a step back as though I'd try to lick his eyeballs. I thought, "Oh that's weird. Whatever." He texted me after: "Would that have been the time to go in for a kiss?" Oh em gee. OH EM GEE.
That was the first of NINE (9!) texts he sent me. My reply to the first one was a lengthier (and hopefully nicer) version of "Look, I said we're just friends, so please stop trying to hit on me." The following eight texts were him insisting he hadn't been hitting on me, that I'm not his type and that I'm misunderstanding. He's one of those Blackberry people so they all arrived faster than I could read them. I was in the middle of drafting a reply when he CALLED because my thumbs couldn't fly over my phone's keyboard fast enough to respond in a timely manner. I would approximate the time elapsed between the first sent text and the call to be 11 minutes.
Issues here? Desperation called a few minutes ago, and it would really appreciate it if you'd return its dignity.
Oh speak of the devil. He just messaged me on Facebook.