I might as well start documenting my bad dates. The chances of one of those people stumbling on this blog and believing that I possibly have bad things to say about them seem slim. The good dates I may acknowledge, but probably I won’t go into detail.
So, here we go. About a month ago, I responded to a m4w ad on Craigslist. He was a college writing professor in his 30s. We e-mailed for probably two weeks, during which time it became apparent that he was realllly pretentious. Like, he wanted me to call him Henry so he could call me Anais. Okay!
Eventually, despite the pretentious, I agreed to meet him for dinner. And… man. This guy. He’s one of those people who is only interested in how utterly awesome he is. And he is awesome at everything! Here are just a few of the things he can rock:
- Writing. This was my favorite part of the evening. He’s apparently written a literary psychological thriller, which he “deliberately wrote to be better than anything else out there.” And yet he cannot sell it to an agent! Despite the fact that he made it awesome!
- Fighting. He used to be an underground no-holds-barred fighter, and he has never, ever lost a fight. Now all the guys who he used to beat up are world champions in various fighting arenas. Boxing, the UFC, etc. But he could totally beat them up! He can beat everyone up! He has been fighting since he was three (his father was a world champion boxer) and is master of all fighting styles!
- Journalism. For his college internship, he was totally the managing editor of a magazine, and he used to throw parties with the bestest DJs in the whole world! Now he cannot go to parties or clubs because of the sub-par DJs. He is a DJ snob.
- Tasting things. He went on and on and ON about how refined and awesome his palate is, and how that makes him spectacular at eating chocolate, drinking tea and wine, and cooking.
Anyway. We had dinner at a Thai restaurant. He brought his own chopsticks. Two pairs of them, and he used one pair in each hand because obviously he is 100 percent ambidextrous. (He was using neither pair particularly well.) He babbled about his palate and how much he likes spicy Thai food, but I think he ate three pieces of his squid salad because it was too hot for him.
He paid for dinner, but only because we discussed writing and therefore it was a tax writeoff for him. It seriously took me that long to get sick of his shit. But at that point — what the fuck? Who does that? I mean, even if you ARE going to use your dates as tax writeoffs, why tell them? As if spending the entire dinner discussing your awesomeness weren’t tacky enough.
And to think — someone married this guy. Oh, did I forget to mention he was married?
Posted by luckless 
