We met online, chatted for about two months, and then got together for drinks. That date went really well: we spent three hours talking, laughing, and discovering we both had similar interests. But he moved two weeks later because of his job. He returned after six months and asked me out again, but he then stood me up. A week later he called and apologized, saying his dad had finally passed (he’d told me about his dad being sick when we first met) and he’d driven to Virginia so I was happy to set up another date. But he stood me up again. This time he said his job sent him to Pittsburgh.
I was done with it. He called for two weeks straight and begged me for another shot. I told him, fine. You show up, and if I’m home, I’ll go out with you. He showed up the next day and we decided on a great Italian winery and restaurant. The meal went well even though he harassed the waiter, who thankfully, had a sense of humor.
During the meal, he ordered a bottle of Lafite, which he drank by himself, while I stuck to my two champagne cocktails. When the check came he stared at it for a few minutes then slipped his credit card into the jacket. It was declined. He then asked me to pay.
Mind you, Lafite is about 300 dollars a bottle. My dinner was 70 bucks. I offered to pay for my meal, and even his, but not for his wine. He apologized, and after all that, took the money out of his wallet and paid in cash.
On the ride home, he took a pill bottle out of his arm rest and asked me to give him one. It was Viagra and it was empty. He asked me if I took it. Next thing I knew, he was taking off his pants. I grabbed the wheel and yelled at him. He agreed to get off the highway and resumed driving the car, while jerking off. We ended up across town and he was lost. We eventually passed my church so I pointed it out. He pulled into the church lot and repeatedly asked me to “do him.”
That was it. I pulled out the pepper spray and said, “I have a high tolerance for weirdness, but you are freaking me out. Take me home NOW or I will push you out and take myself home.”
He was still jerking off while I said all this.
When we got to my building’s parking lot, I had to ask why he didn’t just take me home to begin with—he probably would have ended up lucky.
“I didn’t want to park here because I didn’t want my car to get stolen by some homeboy,” he said.
I should point out right now that I am Black and he was White. The parking lot was full of Mercedes’, Cadillacs, and BMWs.
“No offense,” I said. “But I highly doubt anyone wants your FORD TAURUS.”
I finally got out of the car, but halfway across the parking lot I heard him calling my name. I turned around to look and he was out of the car trying to chase me, with his pants down. I ran inside, picked up the security phone and held it so he could see it through the glass doors.
A few days later, he sent two dozen red roses and a hand-written card:
my apologies for being a drunkin fool
but i think you’re hot and hope it’s cool.
i’ve never spent 400 bucks
on a chick i didn’t f***.
you’ve got huge tits i still wanna see
wanna make it up to me?
What a douche.
Originally published on My Very Worst Date
Photo courtesy of My Very Worst Date
