In the Powder Room blogged about a horrid blind date, and author Kerry Rossow did it beautifully. I especially liked where she said, “Topless men sporting mullets shouldn’t throw stones.” She asked our stories in the comments. Mine is too risque I think for her page, so I am posting it on my little corner of the internet and linking to it with a word of caution.
I am not sure how I ended up on a date with this guy, like I deleted it from memory, but I’m pretty sure a friend hooked us up. I really don’t remember because our date was that bad. I know there is no way I found this gem of an asshat myself, like this just goes under rocks I would dare not move.
We went to some attorney’s house. The attorney and his wife were people I knew from the country clubbish scene already. He had no idea I knew these people. It seemed to bother him that I did know these people, like somehow that moved me up a class system he didn’t expect making us more equals or something… Whatever. The country clubbish scene was full of people I have little respect for, but this guy, he was just another gold diggin whore kissing ass for the networking. So, we already disagreed on self respect… Not a good start.
We partied in their house, a huge historical home re-done to modern times. We all drank wine. The attorney gave me my own bottle of Shiraz from his private expensive stash of wine, and kept offering to give me random things from the house, like some painting, a candlestick… It doesn’t sound bad does it? Haha. Wait.
They smoked marijuana and rolled some ecstasy, things I didn’t do at all. I was really shocked by this because the attorney was considerably older than me. It was like watching peers of my parents roll E. I assure you he does not do that at the country club.
Eventually, the party moved to the hot tub, with us in bathing suits except the attorney’s wife, who was fully dressed sitting outside on the patio next to us, close enough to conversate (I don’t think that’s a real word). This is where my date was serenading me with sweet talk like, “I’m from the Pakistani Mafia.” Then he told me all the history between the Pakistani mafia and the Italian mafia in town, citing people I know and pizza I love. You know, normal first date stuff like who murdered who, when, how they got rid of the bodies… He was obviously showing off.
At some point, the attorney, who is considerably older than me with some obesity issues, asked if I’d sit on his lap. Of course I declined that offer. He continued to ask repeatedly throughout a span of an hour, making me feel more and more uncomfortable by the second. Then I noticed his penis peeping out of the water as he is asking my date if it’s ok if I sit on his lap. I clutched my date in desperation and whispered in his ear, “Please don’t say yes.” So my date picked me up and handed me over to the attorney.
The whole time, the attorney’s wife is screaming at him, “She doesn’t want you. You are old, fat and ugly, she doesn’t want anything to do with your small wrinkled dick.” As soon as my body left the hands of my date into the arms of the attorney sitting only a few inches from his hard on, I flapped like a fish and got out of the hot tub. The wife and I hung out on our own the rest of the evening, making fun of the men behind their backs.
So then we crashed at the house. I didn’t have a ride home. I was drunk from the wine. My date of course was fucked up beyond repair and shouldn’t be driving, and the attorney had quite a few guest rooms. I think ours had its own bathroom. Anyway, my date then wanted to have sex. He begged. Yeah. Men are so stupid sometimes. So I made him go down on me, and after I got mine, I rolled over and went to sleep like a master playa. I also made him apologize to me the next day, and I made him take me home, and I made him buy me breakfast. Fucker might of been from the Pakistani mafia, but bitch, please, I listen to TuPac.
I’d love to hear about your memorable blind date stories, good or bad.