Monday, June 14, 2010
The Diesel Date
Through my various encounters I’ve formed the unfortunate opinion that short men feel the need to compensate. I really wish my experience proved otherwise, and I am quite sure there are plenty of truly wonderful short men out there, but so far that is not what I have observed. Tyler was no exception.
Tyler took me on a date to Diesel. Yes, Diesel. As in the clothing retailer. I waited for an hour while he tried on various pairs of jeans (ranging $400-$700) and grossly overpriced t-shirts. As with previous dating disasters, I said nothing because I did not know what to say (although “I’m getting the hell out of here” would have been a good place to start). Tyler felt the need to show off that yes, he had money. This could be because men think that women are impressed by money, which is sometimes true, but I think it had more to do with the fact that Tyler is 5’5” and incredibly conceited.
After the Diesel debacle, I tried to weasel my way out of Tyler’s clutches. Unfortunately, due to prior poor judgment on my part, I had already told Tyler that I was free all day, so he would hear nothing of my excuses. He suggested we get pizza and gelato to take back to his apartment to hang out and I begrudgingly complied, promising myself to escape as soon as I had finished eating (it would also buy me time to come up with a better excuse).
Back at Tyler’s apartment we ate our food (which was the only good part of the date) and I attempted to make my great escape. I was thwarted by Tyler pushing me up against the wall and kissing me, while looking at me with the creepiest expression I’ve ever seen and I am positive he thought was incredibly sexy. He was slobbery and disgusting and it was the absolute worst kiss I’ve ever experienced. I may be insecure in many ways, but I know that I am a good kisser. I have been told so on quite a number of occasions. Tyler, however, did not think so. In fact, he told me that I was the one who was a horrible kisser and tried to coach me on how to better satisfy his salivatory needs.
But oh, it gets better. Tyler then told me that I wasn’t his type, he felt no romantic connection, and did I have any friends I would mind setting him up with? I said, “no.” Of course, he wanted to know why. Instead of sugar-coating my response by saying something along the lines of, “I don’t generally set my friends up with guys I’ve gone out with,” I said, “because I think you are extremely full of yourself and I wouldn’t subject any of my friends to your company.”
Tyler promptly responded, “You should leave now.”
And so I did. Happily.
I like to think my judgment has improved in recent years and though I’m still no good at lying, I think I’ve at least become better at not being a fucking doormat.