Dating...some things never change!

This is for Miss B and C-dot and all the young, pretty things still out there in the dating world!

Consider it Sex and the Suburbs c1990

It was the decade of opaque tights and Miracle Bras. I was young and thin back then and probably could have made better dating decisions than I did. Call it lack of esteem, but there was no way I'd go up to a guy I liked. If they didn't come to me, I opted to pine away, miserably and not so silently (ask my girlfriends at the time). So, basically I felt if it was so hard for me to ask a guy out, it must be impossible for them and if one did ask, even if I wasn't into him, I felt I owed him the shot just on bravery alone.

Enter the Bass Player. We'll call him BP from here out. We followed a cool, really good local band. Some of their road crew had a little band of their own and begged us girls to please show up at this dive bar and support them. We said we would and showed up on the given night, getting confused and almost going in the lesbian bar next door. Picture tight pink tneck, my little flippy black Limited skirt and my Norma Kamali super matte opaque tights and some Mary Janes stopped at the door by a handsome woman in a flannel shirt who looked me up and down and smiled and said, "Honey, I think you want the other door." :) (Seriously, had I known what would come next I would have shoved her out of my way and had a few drinks at her bar!)

So we find the correct dive, endure the show, get a little tipsy and that's when it happened. The singer tells my gf that his bass player wants to ask me out so my gf is now in charge of passing the message. I have never liked this set up. If you want to ask me out, do it, don't send your entourage! So here I am feeling bad for a skinny white guy in an open ruffled pirate style shirt. I swallowed hard and agreed. We do the phone thing for a while, we go to the shows, we hang out at the same clubs and he decides he wants to take me somewhere nice.

He makes reservations at Alante's, an upscale Italian restaurant. I preen all day, he shows up at 6pm, no tie, hair wet and pulled back in a rubberband like you find on produce at the grocery store. Um...okay. Band practice ran late, says he. Let's just go, says I.

We arrive at the restaurant and a sweet little old Italian lady offers to check our coats. He pauses and says he left something in the car. He's gone forever so I hand the lady my coat and stand there and wait. When he comes in, she offers to put his coat on the same hanger as mine "to save money". What???!!! He AGREES!!!! Okay, pull it together, this is minor.

We are taken to our table. After a few moments the maitre'de comes over and addresses my date, "Sir, did you have a reservation?" Yeah. "Sir, what time was your reservation?" Seven thirty. I look at my watch and it's 6:30pm! I interject and ask the maitre'de if he'd like us to wait at the bar. His voice becomes polite and gentle and his Italian accent rather dreamy, "Oh no Miss. YOU are fine." He shoots BP a remark and returns with menus.

I'm the type of gal who tries to see the big picture. I wasn't going to order lobster or anything expensive in order to be considerate to BP. I decide on the chicken which comes with a side of pasta. BP literally asks the waiter, "What has the bigger portion, this or that?" He makes his choice, meal comes, I'm hesitant to eat my spaghetti because 1) I just want to go home and 2) I don't want to look like a pig trying to eat it. BP literally reaches over the table and eats the pasta from my plate as he says, "If you're done with this." EEGADS!

Meal is over, no coffee, no dessert, can we please just go??? We make it to the coat check, inches from the door when he spots his boss. They shout greetings across the room, he goes over, leaves me standing there and glances back saying he's here with a "date". No introduction, no Mr. Boss, I'd like you to meet. Just a glance over the shoulder and a point. Only the pity he couldn't dangle me by the neck and shout "Look what I caught!" He continues to talk. I continue to stand alone at the coat check, with the little old lady's tip basket staring back from her table. In anticipation of where this is headed, I take a $10 (the smallest I had) and hold it in my palm. BP returns, grabs his coat and walks out the door, letting it close in my face as I lag behind to drop the tip in the lady's basket.

We get in the car and I find out that he actually bought me flowers. Then goes on to say that he actually ended up giving them to his boss who forgot his own wife's birthday. (Fellas...take note! If you get a girl flowers or thought about getting a girl flowers but didn't actually deliver said flowers...DON'T TELL HER. Also a good idea if you have an ex fiancee's ring stashed somewhere and propose to a new girl with it, NOT to tell her about that either...although she will find out and you do risk becoming a eunich, so best to suck it up and buy a new ring...but I digress.) I also find out that BP left me at the entry upon arrival because he had to put his GUN which was in his coat POCKET back in the car! Who the french am I on a date with????!!!!

I thought the torture would end here but no. We went to a movie. Good movie. He left for 20 minutes to go to the bathroom, which was nice, but then he wanted me to update him on the part he missed WHILE the movie was still playing. Um, might not I wish to enjoy the rest???

We get in the car and he wants to go for drinks. By now, I've reached my saturation point. I just can't go on. I politely tell him I'm tired and have work early in the am. No word of lie, BP goes Jack "The Shining" Nicholson on me while driving the car. He turns, stares, no eyes on the road and accuses me of having more time for my friends than I do for him. I don't remember a lot after that except feeling like the black cat Pepe Lepue is always after and backing up against the car door. I made it home safe.

Next phone call, I told him that I wanted to be straight and that this was just casual dating and not exclusive for me. He went on a tie raid about how if it wasn't exclusive (ie no chance of sex) then what was the point. Oh good, then you DO get the drift.

So, that sweet girls is the story of my worst date ever!
Hopefully, you can chuckle as you imagine me struggling through the situation. I certainly chuckle to myself. Not much has changed, as you see. Boys are still boys, girls still give them chances. Sometimes we win, sometimes we decide it's not exclusive, lol. Life goes on and when you are meant to find the right one, you most certainly will.

PS I'd like to tell you my next relationship went better but my girlfriends used to call him "The Pig"...mwaaahahhah!