SaturDATE

Him:  I didn’t like it.  You called me an imp.  You said I was drunk and negative….  You made me really mortified.

Me:  I didn’t like it either.  You were hammered.  I expected you to be more functional… We chatted for a long time online.  We video chatted… I had high hopes you would treat me better than you did.  You were really kind of mean, and you don’t even know it…

Him:  You have a lot of nerve.  To say that stuff about me, so publicly.

Me:  I’m pretty sure I said: you are mischievous when you’re drunk, and you have a lot of emotions that have to be dealt with immediately.   That’s not completely unflattering.  That’s actually semi-mundane.   Lots of people act like that drunk.

My mistake was, I was too nice.  I should have said exactly how much of a jerk you acted like…

Him:  I was mortified.

Me:  I was mortified. Some of your friends were hostile to me, for no reason.  One of them stuck his hands down my pants.  EVERYONE seemed way drunk or coked out.  It was a lot of energy.  And you were breaking up with your boyfriend.  You put me in the middle of that, and I don’t know you very well.  You threw a tantrum about wanting to go home, and then got alternately maudlin and flirty with me on the train. – IN FRONT OF YOUR BOYFRIEND.  Then you insisted that you wanted to go out some more.  I had an awkward evening that got more so at every turn.  No.  That’s not accurate.  I got my feelings hurt.  It was more than awkward.  You treated me like some sort of dog and pony show you were trotting out.

Him:  You should have left and called me out on it.

Me:  I should have not come.

Him:  Maybe.  Take down the post.

Me:  If I’m hurting your feelings I’ll take it down.  I hate that I hurt your feelings.  I thought I made you seem like a charming guy that got a little too drunk one night.

Him:  Good.  Take it down.  Take it all down.

Me:  Hm…  I dunno.  This is my blog.  My online diary.  I don’t want to be censored.   I’ll take down your pic.  How’s that?

Him:  Okay.  Take it down.

Me:  Sure.  Just say one more thing.

Him:  What do you want to hear?  TAKE. IT. DOWN.

Me:  I know but…  ‘Take it down,” and then what do we say??  What do we do?  When we want our friend to do us a favor?  We say what?

Him:  Take it down or hear from my lawyer.

Me:   We say please. I’ll take it down if you ask me to.  But you don’t bark orders at me.  Just say please.

Him:  Take it down.

Me:  If you say please.

Him: I won’t

Me:  Neither will I.  We’re still not showing respect for each other.  I’m big on that…

Him:  Then hear from my lawyer.

Me:  Okay.

(long pause)

Just know that it came down to just one word.  You could have said one word.  Please.

Jerk.

SaturDATE: I’ve Already Figured You Out

Sometimes people ask me on dates.  They tend to go horribly.  These are their stories.

(Law and Order Sound Effect)

Him: Come home with me.

Me: No.  Do you think this sweater is too heavy for the springtime?

Him:  Come on.  Come home with me.

Me:  No.  It’s late and you’re drunk and I’m not and I’m tired.

Him:  Come home with me.  We’ve been flirting with each other for a long time now.  Come on.

Me:  No.  9 months is a long time?

Him:  Come on. (hails a cab)  Get in the cab.

Me:  No.  I’m going home.

Him:  Yes.

Me:  Okay fine.

(Montage:  Snuggly cab ride.  Surprised cab driver.  Deli visit for food and beer. Fumbling with keys.)

Him:  Do you want a beer?  I’m having a beer.

Me:  Yes.  I’m going to start drinking at 3 am.  Good idea.

Him:  Great, I’ll open you one.

Me:  No, wait.  I changed my mind.

Him: Fickle.

Me:  More like, sarcastic.

Him:  I like that.

Me:  I like you.

Him: I know.

Me:  Don’t worry.  I don’t get weird.  I let things develop naturally.  We’ll have two kids, one Korean girl named Ellen, and one African boy, named Sh’Africa.

Him:  Sounds like you’re telling Africa to be quiet.

Me:  I’m not.  I like the names Sean and Africa.  Sh’Africa. If anything, I think Africa should be louder.

Him:  Why?

Me: All that suffering?  Isn’t there a lot of suffering and economic inequality?

Him:  I’ve never been.

Me:  Me neither.  I’m operating on what I’ve read in liberal news media and what I’ve seen in movies like Congo.

Him:  Take your coat off.

Me:  Certainly.  I’ll just throw it on the floor here.

Him:  You’re funny.

Me:  You’re pretty.

Him:  Make out with me.

(We do.)

Him:  Take your shirt off.

Me:  Yessir.

(We take our shirts off.  Bitchin’ make out session.)

Him:  Take your pants off.

Me:  Yessir

(We take our pants off.  Bitchin’ make out session.  It’s getting hard to contain ourselves.  Get it?)

Him:  Let’s get naked.

Me:  How dare you.  No, wait.  I changed my mind again.   That’s a great idea.

Him:  Are you a bottom?

Me:  What?  Oh.  Sex?  Oh!  Sex!  Okay.  Yes.  No.  I’m versatile.  I’m the opposite of whatever your favorite thing to do is…

Him:  Then you’re a bottom.

Me:  I am indeed!

(We get naked.  Bitchin’ make out session.  Then, suddenly – he loses interest entirely. The evening goes limp.)

Him:  I was afraid of this.

Me: What?

Him:  I was afraid that this would happen.  My penis stops working after a while.

Me:  No!  Stop it!  It’s okay.  Cut yourself some slack.  You had a lot to drink.  I watched you.

Him:  No.  What?  No.  I don’t have whiskey dick.  Hahaha.  No.

Me:  What?

Him:  I have a thing that happens.  Once I get someone naked and it’s obvious that I can sleep with them, I lose interest.

Me:  Heh.  You’re funny.

Him:  Please don’t make fun of me.  It’s a real problem.

Me:  I was going to say, why don’t we just go to sleep and give it a shot in the morning.

Him:  Ha.  Right.  No.

Me:  What?

Him:  I think you should leave now.

Me:  WHAT?

Him:  It’s like this.  I already got you naked.  You already said you’d give me what I want.  It’s kind of like I’ve already figured you out.  I’m not going to be interested anymore.

Me:  What?  Heh.  Ha.  I uh…  hm…

(He starts putting on clothes.  He starts handing clothes to me.  I start putting on clothes.)

Him:  Yeah.  It’s best if you just go home.

Me:  I’m much farther away from home now than when you talked me into the cab.

Him:  I’ll call you a car.  You should go home.

Me:  No.  I’ll take the train.  I should never have come here.

Him:  Oh stop.  I had fun.

Me:  Yeah it was a blast.  You’re a real great host.  Thanks for having me over.

Him:  It’s a real problem, okay?  I have a problem with sex.  I’d appreciate some sympathy.

Me:  Awww… Sweet baby…  Hey.  I’m going to say something – please don’t take it the wrong way, okay?

Him:  Okay.

Me:  You’re an asshole.  I don’t mean like self-absorbed like me and my comedy friends.  I mean for real.  You’re a real, true, asshole.  I’m going to leave my card.

Him: What is this?

Me:  I want you to check out my site, but wait a few days…

Him:  Why?

Me:  Because when people act like assholes on dates with me, I put it on the internet.  Is that my coat?  Thanks.

Him:  What?

Me:  Yeah!  You’re famous!  Congrats!  And hey.

Enjoy playing mind games with someone else, Jerk.

(Surprise ending:  I laughed about him the whole train ride home.  I didn’t feel bad about myself.)