Sunday, January 09, 2005

Rate a Date

I just may get kicked out of the women's club for writing this post.

Yes, I am going to tell all you men out there what exactly goes through a woman's mind when she goes out on a date.

It starts way before we ever actually go on the date. We are already judging your ass. For real.

Our friends give us the 3rd degree. Where did you meet him? What does he do? Is he cute? As you get older questions like Has he been married? Does he have kids? Does he have a house? are added into the mix.

For the record, Party, lawyer, yes, no, no, and yes.

The lawyer part had visions of financial security dancing in my friend's heads, but I really don't care about that stuff. Having a job is definitely a plus, but being rich is not a necessity when it comes to me. I make my own money, thank you very much.

So our friends and possibly us are already judging your ass before you even pull in the driveway.

Nice, eh? So the cuteness, employed-ness, and lack of children already has him at a 10 out of 10.

The night of the date can be a bit stressful as you try to decide what to wear. The black dress? Too sexy. The Cardigan with kahkis? Not sexy enough and too informal for where you are going.

The red cashmere sweater that fits just right with the red and black mini skirt? Perfecto. I've learned in my 34 years on this Earth a well placed sweater that looks very touchable and showing a little leg is far more sexy to men then any revealing/slutty type outfit.

Hair? Down with loose curls. Makeup? Just enough so that you don't know it's there. Shoes? Oooooh shoes, glorious shoes. How tall is he? 6'2. Yay! Heels are in order. Black ones. Maybe boots, yeah boots that go to the knee.

It time to for him to pick me up, let the rating begin! He's starting at a 10, but the grading curve on a first date is pretty harsh since you know they'll be on their best behavior.

It is now 5 minutes past when he is supposed to pick me up. He is knocked down to a 4 for being late.

He shows up 6 minutes late, and is now down to a 3. He apologizes for being late, as he was trying to find your favorite flower (daisies), which he did. This knocks him back up to a 7 for paying attention and remembering something said over two months ago. As we leave he holds my arm as I walk down the front stairs and opens the car door for me.

Back up to a 9.

He has chosen a really good restaurant that is more of an experience then just dining. Unfortunately no extra points are awarded to him for this as they already were included in the original score of 10.

Conversation is good, and he is rather entertaining. He's slowly working his way back up to a 9.5 as we have a drink while we wait for our table. Then he orders another drink.

Then another.


7.5, and I'm wondering if I'm even going to get in a car with him when it's time to leave.

Our table is finally ready and we go and sit down. The restaurant has a European feel to it, as the tables are close together and it doesn't have the wide open space feel that most Americans enjoy.

No ordering is necessary, as this place has only one thing you can order. It's all Fondue, and the funny thing is one of my scripts has a date set in this type of restaurant.

The thing about this restaurant is it is an all night deal with cooking each course yourself, and a pretty good place to go to get to know someone. It could either be a dream or a nightmare for a first date, depending how well you get along.

The first course, cheese and bread and fruit arrives soon after we sit down, and he asks if I'd like some wine.

Now I've had one martini, and he's had three. I suggest we look over the list before we decide, and when the server walks away, I tell him that if he drinks much more I'm not getting in a car with him.

I'm pretty sure by the look on his face that if he was rating me I went down to a 4, but I really didn't fucking care.

"Oh, you don't have anything to worry about, I drive fine when I'm drinking."

Slid right on down to a 5 with that little statement. I'm pretty sure he realized this by the look on my face, so we decide to have one glass of wine instead of a bottle.

We start talking about movies, which is what originally attracted me to him when we first met, as he is a huge movie buff. I'm just breaking into my imitation of the French soldier in Monty Python's Holy Grail (I'm French. Why do think I have this outrageous accent, you silly king.) when his cell phone rings.

He answers it, and starts to have a conversation (4.5). Fortunately for me, the people that are sitting next to us start laughing at my French soldier imitation, and we start talking.

They are really cool fucking people. Unfortunately, they are already on desert and are about to leave. He finishes his conversation with someone from work? (who the hell gets calls from someone at work on a Saturday night?) and I introduce him to my new friends Linda and Dave.

Our main course arrives as Linda gives me her email address. We say goodbye to them, and he sits there smiling and shaking his head.

"Do you always just meet complete strangers when you go out and make new friends?" he asks. "Doesn't everybody?" I ask.

I guess not.

So by the time we are done cooking and eating our filet mignon and shrimp I've learned a couple of things about my date.

He has the same tastes as me in movies. 6. He works a lot and doesn't mind if the person he is dating works a lot. 7.

Then he's just got to go there. "I can't believe someone hasn't married you yet."

Oh no he di'int.

There is no statement in this world that can be directed in my direction that annoys me more then this one.

In my head I'm going through the whole 'maybe I don't want to get married you chauvinistic pig' speech but I just say, "Perhaps I haven't found anyone worthy of that honor?" instead.

He smiles and seems to like this answer as he is downgraded back to a 4.

I think the martinis and wine are starting to affect him, as he's talking a bit louder now and is getting just a bit more bold.

"You're really hot. That sweater has been driving me nuts all night," he tells me. Why isn't he just the Rico Suave. At least my sweater theory has panned out. "Ummm, thanks..." I say with just a hint of sarcasm. "I love a woman that can accept a compliment!" He's really slipping from the 4 and should be at a 3.5.

God get me out of here...

He's eating pretty heartily, so I'm hoping that will sober him up before I end up having to drive us home. I'm pretty disinterested by now, and I wish Dave and Linda had stayed longer. It would take a miracle for him to move back up the scale now.

The miracle didn't come, and after desert had arrived, he did the impossible. He slipped down to a 2.

Desert is chocolate with strawberries, cake, and pineapple. Now this man knows I'm diabetic. I put some of the fruit on my plate without dipping them in the chocolate first, to which he replied, "Oh don't get shy on me now. I hate when women won't eat how they normally do when they are on a date."

What the fuck is that??

We get done (finally!) and leave the restaurant. He wants to know if I want to go back to his house to watch a movie. Uhhh no. Definitely no. I tell him that I have a lot to do tomorrow, so that I better just go home.

So we trek the 30 minutes back to my house, with him animatedly talking about his job, him, his job, and then him again.

He's still firmly planted at a 2, and I'm wondering how the hell I'm going to break this to him, since he seems to think everything went really well.

We pull into my driveway, and I decided the best thing to do was to drop the F-bomb.

No, not the F-word, the F-bomb. "Thank you for dinner, it was really good. I really hope we can become friends.

Yeah, I was in no mood to play around. I said the friends word right up front, which made his face twitch for just a second.

He got out, and walked me to my door. A smile broke out over his face as he said, "So you want to play hard to get? I can go along with that."

Again. What the fuck?? I was so stunned by that one that I didn't notice he was going in for the goodnight kiss, and he caught me off guard.

It was one of those kisses were you feel like you were assaulted more then kissed. I'm surprised he has the tip of his tongue left. I'm sure the acid in my stomach should have ate it up, with how far he shoved it down my throat.

I wrangled myself away from him as soon as I could, got in the house, and privately thanked God it was over. He ended up with the worst score ever given to a guy-a 1.

So I guess the negative side of me could say that it sucked that we didn't get along and that he was an a-hole, but the positive must win out. I had a great dinner, and made two new friends.

It was so worth it, even with the cleaning of my esophagus. I even got a laugh this morning when I listened to my messages and had one from him saying what a good time he had and did I have any plans for next week?

My God how can someone be that clueless? And people wonder why I don't like to date....

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