Ok, so I may have decided last night to let November be a month where I just share stories from my past. In honor of my friend Whitney and her love for the TV show Friends, I'm also going to title them in the same way they titled their episodes. Cool? (It's cool...)
The first and last blind date I've ever had was one summer when I was taking classes at the college close to my home. My friend set me up with one of his friends that we'll call him Bob, since I can't remember his name. Bob had a good job, was smart, funny, loved sports, and my friend just KNEW I would be into him.
After a few calls and texts back and forth, Bob and I agreed to go on a date. He kept mentioning that he wanted to take me to this intimate Italian restaurant in town. I kept telling him that the times I had eaten there, it had not turned out well for the home team. My friend also told him that there was no love between the food there and my stomach, and he hoped that Bob would pick a different restaurant before date night arrived.
Date night arrived, and I left my brother's apartment to meet Bob at the meeting place we had arranged. I arrived early (in my family if you aren't 10 minutes early, then you're late) and waited. Meeting time came and went, and Bob was not responding to any of my calls or text messages. An hour after our scheduled meeting time, I drove back to my brother's apartment. I changed into my lounge clothes and settled in to watch a movie.
30 minutes after I got back, Bob finally calls and says that he was tied up in a meeting and couldn't answer his phone. I still agreed to go out with him, but this meant he had to meet me at my brother's place. Bob wasn't happy with waiting on me to change back into my date clothes, and the drive to the restaurant was a little tense.
My heart sank when I realized that Bob had not listened to anything my friend or I had told him, as we pulled into the Italian restaurant that hates me. I put on a smile and ordered a salad. Salads are harmless, right? Bob blew up in the restaurant. He told me that if I was going to just order a salad, then he would just order a dessert. He then yelled that it was stupid for him to agree to go out with me anyway.
He walked away from the table and the waiter asked if I needed him to call someone to come get me. I told him that I would be fine, and I just needed to get through the date.
After Bob cooled down and we ate our salad and dessert, we left to go to a movie. Bob was complaining about being hungry, so I told him he could just pull into a McDonalds drive thru and grab something to eat if he was hungry. This did not sit well with Bob. (This was becoming a theme of the date.)
There was nothing playing at the movie theater that we wanted to see, so I suggested picking one of the random movies playing at the $1 theater in town. That did not sit well with Bob, and he let everyone in line know it. I was the cheapest date he had ever had, and that didn't sit well with him. (When is being frugal a bad thing?)
After we got inside the movie, he wanted to make out. That didn't sit well with me. You don't get to be an asshole to me all night, and then expect me to make out with you (or give it up) later. That didn't sit well with Bob. We drove back to my brother's house in silence, and Bob didn't even stop the car completely to let me out.
The next day Bob called and told me if he had known I was racist, then he would not have agreed to the date in the first place. I was stunned, and asked him where he got the sense that I was racist. He said that the fact that I didn't want to make out with him proved that I was racist, as well as the fact that I only ordered a salad and water at dinner and not a full meal and a glass of wine.
I let him hang up on me because I was in shock. One, I don't drink wine. Two, I told him, repeatedly, that the food at that restaurant was richer than what my stomach could handle. Three, he was 2 HOURS LATE in picking me up with no phone call to let me know! Four, he yelled at me in the restaurant to the point that a waiter had to ask if I wanted him to call someone to get me.
I would say that me not liking Bob had more to do with him being an asshole than his race. Assholes come in all races, and I'm not fond of any of them. Unless asshole is a race, and I'm unaware. Then yes, I'm racist towards assholes.
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