I can't even believe I'm going to admit this, but I suppose we're in the trust tree here. The first time I see him, he has me meet him at Caliente Cab Co - ding ding ding ding - and not even the slightly more acceptable one on Seventh Ave South; it was the one in Murray Hill. Now, I've been putting a moderately half-assed effort behind not being a neighborhood snob anymore, and there's not a section of town out there without its own great, hidden gems, but Caliente Cab is just not a destination. It's somewhere you maybe go to if you live across the street or your office is upstairs. It's loud, gross and there were hooligans screaming at the next table over.
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| This is an accurate representation of how I felt throughout most of the evening. |
Early on, he tells me he went to a meditation camp. On the surface, I can dig it. Some people are really into that sort of thing. However, this one was in central Florida. ding ding ding My own prejudice against the state time and sanity forgot aside, how can you meditate if you're getting bitten by 5209486203458 mosquitoes while sitting in a 300 degree rain-forest of humidity? He then tells me he'll teach me how to meditate. I told him, let me just stop you right there and help you to understand my utter lack of interest in mediation. Trust me, brother, a cold glass of wine and a full DVR delivers me straight to nirvana.
Speaking of the Sunshine State, after telling him about my job/industry, he asked me if I've ever been to Disney on Ice because he finds it very creative. ding ding ding I nearly fell out of my seat. I hate Disney and amusement parks in general. Hate. Once again, I found myself saying something along the lines of, please understand I will never ever be the type of person to attend Disney on Ice. Never. Even if I have children, that is not an on-the-table option for my life. We chat some more and he asked me if I believe in destiny. I say I absolutely do not, on any level, believe in destiny beyond stopping in a random wine store and finding a great deal on one of my favs. A few minutes later he says he wants to get married. While the grand conversation here is clearly spiraling, and fast, on the surface, fine, you're on a dating website, so it makes sense that marriage is your end game. He immediately follows up by saying HE HOPES I AM THE ONE. ding ding ding ding ding ding What. The. What. do you even say to that? It's our first date and only 2nd margarita. Sitting there stunned as I was scared, he told me, "You will see. Our Creator has a plan," to which I countered, "Jay, I have to tell you that I wholly and fundamentally don't agree with that. I'm atheist."
When I told my friend Liz what we discussed on the first date, she turned to me and said, "Jennifer, I think you might have inadvertently taken crystal meth and hallucinated this whole date. That is the only logical explanation... like maybe there was a loose acid tab in your sock from the laundry. I don't know." I don't know either, but in situations like that, I sort of wish I was on drugs.
As he walked me out, he turned to me and asked if I liked karaoke. Before I could answer, he said he would book a karaoke room for our second date. I told him there is not a chance in hell of that happening and if he wants to see me again, he had better come up with a place that has a truly impressive wine and/or cocktail list. Again, I can't believe that I'm admitting this, but I went out with him again... twice. Stay tuned for Ice Capades, Part: 2. It's a doozie.
Until the next dating disaster,
Vennifer.
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