Wanna get ice cream sounds innocent, right? Buckle up buttercup…cuz not in this case.
I began chatting with this man, I forget his name, but let’s call him Richard, or Dick, for short. We grew up in a similar area and had some common friends from the past in our peripheral circles. We talked about how we both enjoy staying fit at the gym. We both loved to waterski, so we felt that these commonalities obviously equaled, “Let’s meet immediately.” So we made a plan. I suggested Avery’s, a spot to which I could walk, because I had plans for later that day. Time would be tight so it would be nice to be close to home. I told Dick that it was my version of “Cheers.”
I didn’t tell him that I was a bit hesitant to meet a first date there since I was bound to run into somebody I know there. At the very least the bartenders…I prefer somewhere more anonymous. Convenience won.
He responded, “Oh great. I used to have my own version of “Cheers,” Buffalo Wild Wings, right across the street from my gym. I do my gym thing then I head on over but I got kicked out.” I didn’t judge because I have been kicked out of my own fair share of bars myself for varying reasons, (almost) all valid. But never from Avery’s. That wouldn’t happen there. One of my friends says that we have been “kindly asked to leave” once for building pyramids for picture opportunities. But I do not remember that. I must not have been there that time. ( that’s the excuse I am running with…) Anyway, I digress. I didn’t ask why he was kicked out. But I did find it odd that, if it truly was his “Cheers,” why was he kicked out rather than “asked to leave for now,” nicely? I should have.
So we met at Avery’s and immediately ran into two of my friends who are sisters. I knew it. I introduced them to Dick and he and I grabbed a seat at the bar. We began talking and I quickly knew that this was a dead end date. He was referencing events with his ex wife, who he divorced 20 years ago. And his recently estranged girlfriend, who left him high and dry and lonely. That wasn’t so much the problem. What he was saying about them was the problem.
His ex wife was cold as ice. A real frigid one, he said. So “I had to warm her up like an ice cream cone. Get her dripping.” Then he did the international conelingis sign.
Yup, in the first fifteen minutes of our date, he stuck his tongue out in between his two fingers and flicked it in and out. I provide you with so much vivid imagery here so that you can get a fraction of the amount of grossed out and insulted that I was. I sat there dumbfounded as he carried on. His girlfriend stayed in the relationship for way longer than “they” should have because of his licking skills. He said that. Then he said, “Do what you want with that information.” Ok, thanks. So I drifted off into Lalaland, not immersed in the daydream he likely imagined I was in, but rather daydreaming about how I can get Get The Fuck out of there quicker than a teacher vacating the building on June 22.￼
But I tuned back in because he was telling me how, why, and when he got kicked out of his favorite bar. I was suddenly curious because, truth be told, I am nosy. ￼Last night was when it went down. He was taking pictures of the 20 something bartenders, and they kept asking him to stop, but he saw no harm in taking their pictures so he didn’t. The manager came over and told him to leave and to never return. He just didn’t understand what he did wrong or how the manager knew what he was doing. He really seemed perplexed by this.
I said it was time for me to go. Undaunted, he said, “Ok, great. When will we see each other next?” Good lord. I just said that I was in a hurry to go to my sister’s house. Partial truth. I was going there, but I wasn’t running late. But I was running from this guy, fast.
Once I arrived at my sister’s house, I received a text from him. “Hey there. I am going to BWW tonight. I know I got kicked out last night, but I also know they didn’t mean it. So why don’t you meet me there around 8 to watch the hockey game?”
As if. Not a chance. So I ignored and blocked his number.
A couple of days passed, and I was peacefully volunteering at my daughter’s track meet, assisting in the measuring process of the long jump competition, when I received a notification saying that I had received a message on the dating app from Dick. It read, and I shit you not:
“Dear Dorothy, I have been trying to reach you via text and phone calls, but we have our signals mixed up. Although I found that I was not physically attracted to you–I just wasn’t feeling it with you at all as you really didn’t seem to enjoy my stories–I would like to know if you want to get ice cream with me tonight.” Ew.
I told my friends (the sisters that I ran into when I met him at Avery’s) the follow up story about my blind date: his gym and his bar…one of them interrupted me mid sentence and said, “He doesn’t go to a gym. Trust me–I met him. I saw him. He just doesn’t.” I bet he can’t lick worth dick either. But I do not plan to find out.
Hopefully my boys heeded my advice, “Don’t be a Dick.”