The first bad date

I met Robert at swing dance lessons. He was funny and odd and liked me, all of which were appealing. He wasn't a very good dancer, even though he wasn't taking his first lesson, but I didn't mind. We danced a few time that first night. A couple weeks later I saw him again and he recognized me immediately and spent most of the evening paying attention to me. He was quirky and I liked it. He was 54 and had never been married (why became no surprise). He gave me a ride home that night. I kept seeing him around at all the dances, he started to call me and eventually he asked me out.

Our first official date was to have dinner and then go to a party. I drove the Flexcar© to Rockville to meet him, parked it, and he drove from there. Dinner was odd. We had Chinese, but he's a vegetarian (and doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, exercises hours every day) so we had to get a big old plate of tofu and veggies, not my favorite. Because he (South African accent) and the waiter couldn't understand each other he was rather rude and repeated himself many times. It made me uncomfortable. By the end of dinner, I was in a bad mood. Robert noticed but didn't make a big deal out of it. We had a hard time finding the party and got a little lost on the way, which made me grumpy, but we did get there.

Robert was a good date in that as soon as we got to the party he introduced me around and made sure I knew the host. He got me food and then left me to mingle on my own. I got myself a drink as soon as possible. I wandered around a little and found some people to talk to. I did the mingle thing for a while then found myself sitting on my own in the deserted living room. Robert found me and sat down next to me and asked how I was doing. I was feeling better and happy enough to talk to him. We spent the rest of the time at the party mostly together. He drove me back to my car and we sat in his car for a good long while and talked. He wanted to kiss me (he'd wanted to before and I'd always easily said no). I wasn't sure if I wanted to kiss him or not. The prospect made me nervous and giggly (which usually means I do want to kiss the guy). I giggled and demurred for a good long while. We negotiated for quite a time. Finally, I decided to kiss him. We kissed. It wasn't bad. Actually, it was good and went on for a few minutes. Then I jumped out of his car and into mine and got myself home.

I was pretty sure after this that I would go out with him again, but I still wasn't sure how much I liked him. His quirkiness was not always amusing and he could be offensive. I didn't think he was a very nice person and I didn't like how I acted around him. I was always giving him a hard time and criticizing him. I asked him why he liked me when I was so mean to him. He said he deserved it. He said that he could take it, I couldn't, so I could be mean to him but he had to be nice to me. I realized that I didn't like myself very much when I was around him. He brought out the worst in me, which is the opposite of the effect you want from a romantic (or any) relationship.

I did make another date with him for dinner. I was supposed to have a short coffee date immediately before, but it didn't pan out and I had some time on my hands before I was supposed to meet Robert. I used that time to have a drink. And then another. The last time I had two strong drinks in such a short period of time was on my 21st birthday and it had almost the same effect on me this time--I was a staggering, blurry drunk. The only difference? I didn't pass out this time. I was not looking forward to seeing Robert and I'd gone ahead and numbed myself.

I met him at the restaurant. At dinner, he could tell I was tipsy, but I defiantly ordered and drank a glass of wine. (That'll show you, teetotaller.) One wonders exactly what I was thinking. Dinner went poorly. I was obnoxious. I told him what was on my mind, "I don't think this is going to work out." He chose to ignore me and took me home. I let him come in for the first time. We sat on the couch. I lay on the couch in a stupor. He decided it would be a good idea to lie down beside me. I discouraged him, but not adamantly enough. He took the back cushions off the couch and snuggled up to me. I tried to keep space between us, but I didn't get up. He got closer to me and tried to kiss my neck. I shrugged him off and said, "stop." He rolled me over, somewhat forcefully and started to climb on top of me. I said, "Don't do that." He said, "It's ok." I said, "Get off me. If you don't get off, I'm going to kick you." He didn't stop. I bent my knee and put my foot in his gut and pushed hard. He jumped up in a little bit of pain, but mostly surprised. He said, "I guess I better go now." I was also on my feet. I said, "Are you ok? I didn't mean to hurt you." He said, "I'm fine." And left.

Four days later he called. The first thing he did was ask me about the date I'd had on the day after my date with him. (Foolish me had not been able to keep my mouth shut about the details of my dating life.) I ranted a little about Lou, the second bad date, and mentioned that Lou still owed me an apology.

J: And, by the way, I think someone else owes me an apology.
R: Why do you think I'm calling?
J: I don't know.
R: Well, I'm very sorry. I know you were upset and I'm sorry if I offended you in any way.
J: Do you know what you are apologizing for?
R: Well, I know I upset you.
J: You are missing the point. You behaved badly--that's what you need to apologize for, not for upsetting me.
R: Well, of course, of course, my behavior was appalling. I'm a terrible person. I do apologize.
J (increasingly frustrated): Do realize that you have apologized after every date we've had? Do you ever really know why you're apologizing?
R: I'm very, very bad. I have a lot to apologize for.

I realized that he was issuing blanket, prophylactic apologies, just in case he did anything offensive. He really had no idea whether his behavior was inappropriate or not, but he'd noticed that he was often offending the women he went out with, so he'd instituted a post-date apology policy as a way of dealing with it.

I made it clear that I did not want to go with him again.

Two days later, much to my surprise, he called again. I eventually said, "Why are you calling?" He said, "Whould I not be?" I said, "It would probably be better if you didn't call anymore."

I knew I would see him again at a dance and I was dreading it. I saw him at the very next dance I went to. Being there at the same time as him reduced my enjoyment of the evening. I felt badly even though I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. I'd hurt him and rejected him and I felt guilty. Eventually, he came over while I was sitting out a dance and said hello. He asked me if I would like to dance.

J: No.
R: No? (Expresses surprise.) Is it just because you don't want to dance or is it me?
J: (Hesitates slightly). Because it's you.
R: (Sits down next to me.) Really. I didn't know it was that bad.
J: How could you not know?

He was silent for a moment.

R: So, how's your sax? (I own a saxophone that lives under my bed and is never played).
J: What?
R: Your sax. How is it? That's my one regret, that I never got to see your sax.
J: That's it? That's your regret. You know, you really take the cake.

Since then, I've seen him at a few more dances. He usually makes a point of saying hello to me, but he doesn't ask me to dance. It is acceptable.