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.

The second bad date

This date started out very well, but oddly. I'd met Lou on an internet dating site (the same one where I met Johnny). He sent me a very funny email that had me laughing out loud. After his name he'd included reviews of the messge, which I thought was extremely clever. As soon as I got it, I asked him to call me and he did, later the same day. Our first conversation was very interesting and rapid fire. He was bright and inquisitive, asked me tons of questions, but not the usual ones. He was curious and wanted my take on all kinds of philosophical things as well as personal things. He had a lot to say too and listening to him made me think, as well as gave me lots of things to say too. The time went quickly, and I had to be somewhere but he made me late because he wouldn't end the conversation. We made a tentative plan, but also planned to talk again, which we did the next day.

The next conversation went on for hours and kept me up late. It was compelling and funny and it made me feel very close to him. We confided in each other, he wanted me to explain sociological concepts to him. It ranged the gamut from intellectual, to joking, to storytelling, to introspection. It was engaging and exhausting and fun. I was tired the next day, and I went around in something of a daze. That night, my head was full of Lou when I went out on my date with Robert.

The next day, we had tentatively planned to meet in the afternoon. We talked in the morning and the conversation, again, went on and on. It became clear that we would have to change the meeting time. He seemed to hesitate and not want to meet. I didn't understand what the problem was. How could he not want to meet? We took a break and he called me back. He wanted to know more about me and I had to convince him that I was serious and I wasn't some flight-by-night…what, exactly, I'm not sure. But I remember clearly working very hard to convince him that I was really what I seemed to be--honest, straightforward, smart--and that we should still meet. Eventually, we agreed to a time, 8pm, and a bar in Cleveland Park.

I took the metro there, sat in the back without a drink, and read my book. He was late and I was nervous. He finally arrived and I recognized him, but he wasn't as attractive as his picture. He was short, maybe my height (5"5'), he was pale and slope shouldered with dark brown hair--thick hair, brushed forward, but a little greasy and lank. He wore slightly rumpled black cotton twill pants and a grey tweed sport jacket. Underneath the jacket, he had a black v-neck sweater and no shirt. I didn't care for that. I looked at him and shook his slightly moist hand. I thought, he might become more attractive once we begin talking. I didn't rule him out. He was obviously nervous.

He couldn't sit still. He went to get us drinks. He complained that they didn't make his drink right. He drank it, though. We slowly started talking. I was a little quiet; certainly quieter than I'd expected to be. It was going fairly well, but not great. I tried to match up the person in front of me with the person I'd spent so many hours with on the phone. I was experiencing some cognitive dissonance. He started to tell me about the book he was working on. He had invented (he claimed) a new philosophy and he started to explain it to me. (Unfortunately, the details have escaped me.) I thought, "either he is truly mad, or he is brilliant, or both." I thought, "some of the great thinkers in the world were insane." Lou was clearly nuts, but I wasn't sure if he was full of crap or actually had a good idea. It was a little fascinating. It was a puzzle. He had another drink. I declined a second one.

He started talking more and faster. He started to rant. He began a political polemic about the oppressed working-class white man. "Why should we support helping them [blacks]? That just hurts us. They put my father in jail." I couldn't quite follow what he was saying, but it was very offensive. He taunted me, asking if he had bothered my liberal ideals. And this was why Bush was president, because of people like him and how they felt. I did agree with that. But I was more and more confused. Did he believe his polemic, or was he trying to make some kind of point? I was upset and I wouldn't engage. I was very close to leaving. What kept me was a hope (or was it curiosity?) that the person who I was expecting to meet would show up. He expressed admiration that I hadn't left. This pleased me, but I don't think I stayed for the reasons he thought I had. He calmed down. I was relieved. He got another drink.

The conversation took a melancholy turn. He kept talking and told me how sad and lonely he was. He asked how he was ever going to find anyone. The bar was getting louder and smokier (he was smoking too) and I wanted to leave. I wanted to get him out of there. I told him we should go. He seemed offended. He thought I was ending the date. I said, "we can go to my place, but you can't drive. I could drive your car." He laughed. "You'll drive?" I said, "Why not, I'm a good driver." He obviously didn't like the idea. I said, "I'll take a cab home or the metro, but I'm not letting you drive me anywhere. But, I don't mind driving your car home. That way, you're still giving me a ride." He eventually, reluctantly, agreed.

We left and on the way out he stopped in the men's room. While I waiting for him, some folks stopped and asked me if I'd lost glasses. At first I didn't understand them, since I was wearing my glasses, I thought maybe they meant drink glasses. I touched my glasses and I said, no. The woman in the group said, we found some, over there, weren't you sitting there? I said yes but they weren't mine. She said ok and went up to the bar.

Lou came out and we left. We walked down the street and he was really short--at least an inch shorter than me. I didn't care. He was sad and talking about it. I didn't know what to do. I felt similar to the way I'd felt back in the bar after his rant--full of compassion for him and sorrow. We stopped walking and I wrapped my arms around him. He held on tight and we just stood there for a minute. He'd been on the verge of tears, but calmed down. We kept going to the car. He still seemed very doubtful that I could drive his car, but drive it I did and it was fine. He was surprised at my driving skills and the fact that I knew where I was going and he apologized for his earlier doubts.

I invited him in, which I think was never in question. The first thing he did was get down on the floor and play with my cat, Samantha, for about fifteen minutes. While I was a little jealous, it recommended him to me in a way that his other behavior had not. I figured he couldn't be all bad or crazy if he was so good with the kitty. It was impressive. He complimented her expansively on her good behavior (she was biting hime like crazy as he taunted her with his hands, but she didn't scratch him once, which he found to be very impressive). I sat on the couch and watched, not sure what to think.

Eventually, he sat next to me on the couch. I kissed him. The kissing was fine, but definitely more my idea than his. I stopped. He lay on his back. He was mumbling about something and then he fell asleep and started to snore. I laughed, eventually. I waited a few minutes to see if he would wake up. I also found his wallet on the floor and put it on the coffee table, along with some change that had fallen out of his pocket. I wanted to go to sleep, so I poked him a little to wake him up. He was startled and asked what happened. I said, you were asleep and snoring. He said, I do snore. I said, you can sleep here if you like.
L: On the couch?
J: Well, I won't get any sleep otherwise with the snoring.
L: Why do you want me to stay?
J: It would probably be better if you didn't drive home…and you're tired.
L: Is that it? It's not a good enough reason.
J: What do you want me to say? You know you shouldn't drive.
L: I don't care. I'm fine. I'm not staying here for you to feel sorry for me.
J: Fine. You better leave.
L: I'm leaving.
J: Wait, don't leave this.
I held up his wallet. I suppose it looked like I was just handing him change, which was resting on top of the wallet. He knocked the change down and said, "Why are you giving me that?"
I said, "It's your wallet. Take it." He took it and left.

I was thinking, I probably won't see him again, but at least it was interesting. He might really be crazy, or an alcoholic.

I went to sleep around 1am. At 3am the phone rang and I answered it. It was Lou. He said, "Do you have my glasses?"
J: What?
L: My glasses. Did I leave my glasses?
J: No. I don't have any glasses.
L: Are you sure? Do you have my glasses?
J: Wait, maybe they are in the bar.
He hung up. I was astonished. The phone rang again in less than a minute.

L: It's me, it's me, I'm sorry.
J: Look, I think your glasses are in the bar…(I explained about the conversation I'd had while he was in the men's room).
L: So you don't have them?
J: No, I think you have to go back to the bar. They are probably there.
L: Ok, sorry, sorry.
And he hung up without saying goodbye.

Unfortunately, I was now almost completely awake. I sat up in bed and waited for him to call again, which he did, though it took a little bit longer this time.
L: It's me, it's Lou.
J: You have to stop calling me at 3am. This is the last time I'm going to answer the phone. Is there anything you need to talk about?
L: Why did you have my wallet?
J: What?
L: You had my wallet. Why did you have it?
J: It fell out of your pocket so I gave it to you.

And he hung up. I never heard from him again.

The last bad date

I met Johnny via an internet dating site. He is pleasant, a bit funny (not hilarious, but not a snore), and politically left-wing. A nice change, because a ton of the guys on this site are military, republican conservative types. I'm not that interested in having a political debate and some of the republicans take me on, so it's nice to know I won't be spending my time that way.

We exchange phone numbers and I tell him I'll call him. He doesn't wait for me to call and leaves me a message the next day, which is Sunday. We have a nice light-weight conversation while I work in the yard. He does most of the talking. Many of his stories have a similar theme, he is the nice guy wronged by some slightly wayward bohemian woman with non-traditional sexual mores. (I think many of these stories were about the same woman.) He says several times that he is just too nice, but it is necessary to be polite. He tells a story about meeting someone for a blind (internet) date who looked nothing like her picture and "just wanted to fuck him." He faked a phone call to get out of it. Now he knows how women feel. "Cheap," I said. He wonders how "we" put up with "them." He repeats parts of both of these stories on our date.

I mention that I am a big talker and he says, so now it's your turn. I say, "it doesn't work like that, you have to let things flow naturally and not to worry, I'm sure I will eventually have plenty to say." I've started to notice, though, that my stories are just a spur to get him started back in on his own stuff. It doesn't bother me; it's a nice change to do most of the listening. I do mention that if he wants to get me talking he should ask me questions, but he doesn't. Instead he says, "C'mon, talk. It's your turn now."

Johnny also asks, repeatedly, if I want to have coffee with him. I say I don't know, I'll think about it, but before we get off the phone, I agree. He calls me a couple more times and we make a plan to meet on Tuesday after work. He knows what I look like (I have photos on the web) and he recognizes me when I walk up to meet him at the coffee shop. He has a slightly relieved look. (I've been told I look better in person than in the photos.) He doesn't want to go in and suggests we have dinner instead. That's ok with me and we go across the street. He's a little nervous. He mentions several times that he's sweating (actually, he says, "shvitzing"--this is for my benefit, since he is not Jewish (I am) but he has claimed that many of his friends are Jewish and people think he is Jewish all the time). It turns out someone he knows is in the coffee shop and he doesn't want us to be interrupted, which seems perfectly reasonable to me.

Let me give you my impressions of him. First, on the phone he sounded young, even though I knew he was in his early 40s. He doesn't look bad, but he definitely looks his age, which I wasn't expecting. I don't find him attractive. He is my height or an inch or two taller and very thin. My gut feeling is that I'm not going to get interested in him. There are some things about him I like. He is brash and opinionated and I find that amusing, though they are qualities I don't necessarily want in a boyfriend. He is originally from another country and I have a very good friend with the same origins. Johnny reminds me a tiny bit of my friend. This is not a friend I could date, so it is not much of a recommendation.

We sit in the restaurant and Johnny talks nervously about how it's supposed to be a coffee date and don't I want to order coffee. He laughs.
I say, "I don't drink coffee in the evening."
"Yes, I know, me too. But it's a coffee date. Tea would be better."
I say, "Feel free to order coffee, but I'm not having any."
"No of course not, but it's supposed to be a coffee date. And no coffee."

I know this isn't a good sign, but I try to ignore it. I find my attention wandering. A very large party is assembling at a long table near us and I watch members of that group arrive and greet each other. I know my distraction could become rude so I try to pay attention to Johnny. I end up complaining about my neighbors, a sore spot for me over the last week or so. I say that I don't want to talk about it because I'll get upset. He keeps asking me questions (for the first and only time). Finally, I change the subject by asking him about his day.
"Oh, it was terrible. I don't want to talk about it. We were talking about you."
"Yes, but I changed the subject. What happened?"
He tells me a long, boring, vague story about having to take some of his higher-ups to lunch.

Dinner lasts about an hour. Afterwards, we walk around for a couple of minutes. Then he suggests we take a drive. From what he's told me, he likes to drive around aimlessly. I don't object since there doesn't seem to be anything else to do. I figure the conversation may be easier since we won't have to make eye contact. And, worse case, I'll get a ride home.

As we drive, I become more chatty. Curiously, I don't talk about myself, but share some stories about my friend Hannah's bad ex-boyfriend (sorry H!). Johnny draws completely the wrong impressions about Hannah from the stories, which is a little disturbing. I also start to notice that even when I do talk, Johnny doesn't seem to hear anything I say. He responds, but with his own story, which may or may not be relevant to what I'm saying and which may or may not have a similar moral or theme. He picks up on some superficial similarities and then goes down his own story path. It is tiresome and I start to get annoyed. I cease talking. There is a long period of silence. I ask him to start heading towards my place, which he does. Close to another hour has gone by, so the grand total of time on this date will be a little over two hours. Sort of a decent minimum and certainly more than enough to know that I don't want to see him again. I had originally thought that we could be friends, but now that seems unlikely.

Of course, you are wondering, what is so bad about this date? Sure, dating is Hell, but this is just normal bad date territory. Usually, what makes dates bad is that they are boring. You are forced out of politeness to spend a fair amount of time (usually at least 2 hours) with someone you may not like at all or only like a little and often find boring. He may or may not feel the same way about you (probably better if he does, because it can end that much faster), but regardless you are stuck. I agree that up to this point this was a just normal, average, boring bad date. But it gets better....

He is driving towards my house, but we are still about five miles away. I say, "You really aren't listening to anything I say." It's what I was thinking, but as soon as I say it I know it was a mistake. I think, 'why can't you keep your thoughts to yourself?'

He says, "I'm listening, I've heard everything you said. It's ok."

I say, "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's fine."

"So you talk and I'll listen."

I don't talk. There is a pause.

He says, "You are very silent, is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing is wrong."

"What?" He hasn't heard me.

"I'm fine."

"Why are you so silent? Are you upset?"

I say, "I'm not upset, but I will be if you keep asking me that."

"What?" Again, he hasn't heard me. Did I mumble? It's possible.

"Why are you so silent? Are you upset?" He repeats.

Now, I am annoyed. "No, but please stop asking me that." I definitely have an angry tone when I say this.

He pulls the car over.

"Lady you can just get out of the car right now." I think my jaw dropped. "I don't need this fighting on a first date. It's not like we are married or something."

I try to speak, but all that comes out is, "Well, you don't...I think..."

"Just get out. Have a good night. I had a great time. Thank you very much."

"That's a lie. You didn't have a great time."

"Right I didn't." I get out of the car and he leaves me standing on the corner.

Now that, my friends, is a bad date.

Post date analysis
I was left on a corner in Mt. Pleasant, near the border of Adams Morgan (in Washington DC), which was in no way an isolated or dangerous area. I'm familiar with the area so I walked a block and jumped on a bus home. On the bus, I called my friend Diego and, after initially hesitating, I told him what happened. He insisted we meet for a drink and I got off the bus right in front of the bar where we met. We had a drink, I gave him more details, and he scolded me (at least that's how it felt). We agreed the drop off was a power trip. I thought it was designed to humiliate me.

Later, I told my mother about it, leaving out some details. She was FURIOUS. Not because of the insult so much but because of the potential danger he put me in. She said, "You just don't do that!" I agree. I also thought it was bizarre how he'd insisted that he was so nice and polite when he did one of the rudest things imaginable. Kicking someone out of your car is just about the opposite of polite.

For a while, I had this event listed in at least one online dating profile. When I got tired of telling the story, I took it off. Now, it seems pretty funny, but it took quite a while for the sting to wear off.