If Your Date Shows Up Wearing A Shirt Covered In One Of These...

If Your Date Shows Up Wearing A Shirt Covered In One Of These...

Friday, November 11, 2011

Walkin' on Water

I believe, due to my Polynesian Ancestry, that I was genetically engineered to love the water. I learned the art of swimming when I was approximately 3 months old when my Dad threw me into the middle of the Pacific Ocean and despite being a newborn, I was smart enough to know that I was being left with two choices: Sink or Swim. Evidently, I chose the latter. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve being around the ocean or in the water…one of the perks of being raised in the islands, I suppose. From deep sea diving to snorkeling, frolicking in the water has always been one of my greatest past times.

This brings us to one of my latest dating happenings…I knew from the beginning that Mr. Jealous McInsecure was the text book definition of “lacking self-confidence.” For several reasons:
1) He was adamant about being able to have full access to my phone at any given time.
2) He was unwavering regarding his desire for me to delete my Facebook account.
3) In addition, he was obdurate that I have zero contact with members of the opposite sex…despite the fact that 90% of my business transactions involve having to deal with the male species.

Regardless of all of these (major) red flags, I did my best to give Sir Envious VonUnconfident the reassurance and support that he obviously was in desperate need of. From cooking him homemade meals every night, to packing his lunches, doing all of his laundry to taking care of his weekly grocery shopping I made sure that he was well taken care of---even if it meant sacrificing my own personal wants/needs/desires…all to make sure he knew that he remained A #1, King-of-the-Castle, Numero Uno, Master of his Domain, Top of the Heap, etc. etc. etc. And despite being a rigorous, uphill battle, I felt good about my contributions to this unhealthy, dysfunctional, co-dependant, insalubrious relationship.

He decided one evening that he wanted to take me out to a pretty nice, fairly reputable restaurant that was considered to be moderately high-class…amongst Utah County standards anyway. Immediately after walking through the door we were greeted by the on-shift manager, who I recognized as a someone that I had known from years prior…so many years in fact, that I didn't even remember his name, although I was fairly certain we had gone to high school together. He walked us to our table and quickly introduced himself to DouchBag McSensitive by shaking his hand and then turned to give me a brief sideways hug. All while shootin’ the bull with both of us and then notifying us that our drinks, appetizers and desserts would all be on the house. It was duly noted by me that there was nothing that he did and/or said that could have been perceived as inappropriate or misconstrued as classless. He was just genuinely friendly to both of us and remained adamant about how great it was to see me.

After Mr. HighSchool McForgettable walked away I could immediately tell from my peripheral vision that my date had almost instantly turned approximately six shades of crimson. Before I had a chance to ask him if everything was okay, Mr. ScarletFaced VonViolent stood up with so much force that his chair went toppling over behind him. I then heard the commencement of his yelling tirade begin by screaming at the top of his lungs…”Can we go anywhere in Utah County where you haven’t ***effed*** the entire staff?” And with that, proceeded to throw his entire glass of ice water in my face.

(***Due to the graphic nature of this word, and the fact that this remains a family-friendly blog, the author has chosen to edit the actual vulgar word that was used by the UNDATABLE Douche Bag with whom she was
on this particular date with.***)

If your date finds it customary to throw a glass of water on you, mid-date…