Look at this fabulous tidbit I received in my email on Friday:
- I’m a reporter with ConsumerAffairs.com. I’m working on a story about It’s Just Lunch and found you name in our files. I’d like to interview you about your experience with the company. We only use first names and cities–if using your full name is a concern. When would be a convenient time to call you and at what number?Thank you for your time and assistance with this story. I look forward to talking to you soon.
How excited am I right now? I wrote back with my number and said, “I’m free to talk whenever you are. Here’s my number.” Call me sister, call me! I have PLENTY to say. ______________________________________________
The date with CL#1Writer went off without a hitch. We got good and drunk at Gazuza on Connecticut Ave. We have great conversation, great banter, he’s witty, charming, attractive, and jammed his tongue in my mouth 18 ways till Sunday. But, when you are kissing a man and you aren’t thinking about what’s after the commercial break, it’s not a good sign. I’m not feeling it. I can’t say I won’t date him again, but I also can’t say that if he tries to touch my boobs that I won’t push his hand away. Verdict: No chemistry.
CL#2BlueEyes sent another email saying he’s sorry he didn’t call on Thursday night and that he will call me this weekend. Nothing so far. I say, bring it.
CL#3TextTormenter was all over my Velvety ass. He called a bunch of times Friday. While it’s not witty conversation, it’s hilarious, crack me up, laugh until my stomach hurts conversation. Despite all the bullshit with the text messaging and the fact that his ex-girlfriend and love of his life was Miss God Damned Delaware, I’m unphased. Ten years ago that fact that a guy dated a Beauty Queen would intimidate me. At 32, I’m much more confident. Now I think, “So what, you dated a beauty queen, the real question is, does she swallow?”
All right, that was downright disgusting. But don’t take that literally, and those of you doing so know who you are. (Mostly I mean that to Johnny, but AUA and I66 you are NOT off the hook.) I’m just saying that just because she is the beauty queen, doesn’t mean she has it all.
Anyway, we had a turn of events. CL#3TextTormenter called me at 2 a.m. Friday night when I was saying my makeout goodbye to CL#1Writer, who then pulled his tongue out of my mouth to ask who would be calling at such an hour. Uh. I had no clever answer so I said, “a friend.” Yeah, right. He’s too smart to believe that. After CL#1Writer left I called CL#3TextTormenter back and he was so obviously drunk. He said he would call me back in a few. I sent him a text message at 2:40 a.m. to say that I was going to bed and I would talk to him tomorrow. What does he do? Calls me at 3:20 a.m. Now, I was still awake but I picked up the phone and said, “Kind of late to be calling a girl you don’t really know, isn’t it?” And he drunkenly slurred out something like, “I don’t need a lecture, and I don’t need to be told so fine go to bed.”
More Laws of Velvet: People show their true colors when they are drunk and when they are stressed. When people can’t cope in either situation, their real personality comes roaring out.
I know that every single comment is going to be that I shouldn’t go out with this asshole. But, I must remind you dear readers that this is a dating blog. If he calls, even with a half assed apology of sorts, I’m going out with him. But I doubt he will call and I’m certainly not going to call him. It’s been a damn long time since a bad date. The last one started a fight with the whole restaurant. I’m curious as to what I could inspire this motherfucker to do.
On to the It’s Just Lunch update.
I met Date#9LowTalker downtown and yes, this time he showed up. Initially, they started to show us to a table, and the night dates are not supposed to be dinner, only the lunch dates are for food. At night you are supposed to have a drink, and they stress, “one drink.” I said, “Wait, we’re supposed to go to the bar, and besides, I already ate.” It was awkward, mostly because he had several chances to stop them from showing us to a table, but didn’t. So I had to do it. I hate that. And then we made our way back to the bar. I just didn’t feel like having a long drawn out dinner with him. That turned out to be the smart idea I’ve had in weeks.
My first order of business was to ask him what happened last week when he didn’t show. He said they told him 8:00. So he got there and I was gone, by an hour and a half, as they told me 6:00. I hate them. They are the worst excuse for a matchmaking dating service ever.
So we order our drinks and he is a low talking mumbler. He is probably no more than 18 inches away from me and everything he said I had to ask, “What?” He would raise his voice to repeat what he said, then retreat to the low mumbling again. Very frustrating. This is the gem of the night:
Date#9LowTalker: So, how long have you been doing It’s Just Lunch?
Velvet: About 6 months. How long have you been doing it?
Date #9LT: Doing what?
I’m sitting there speechless. Who could have THAT short of a short term memory?
I think that this man had not been briefed that these evening dates were only for a drink. This became very awkward. When I realized that he was just going to continue mumbling story after story that I got sick of straining to hear, I had to break the tension. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and the weirdest thing happened. I thought the heel of my boot broke when I was walking to the bathroom because something felt weird with my left leg and it felt like my knee was hyperextending. I made it to the bathroom thinking that I was so fucking bored with this man that half my body was in a coma. I tried to walk it off in the bathroom – it wasn’t like the pins and needles of a sleeping foot or leg – this was totally like nothing I have ever felt before.
When a stall became available, I went in to pee. Somehow, as I was crouching to sit, the bum leg gave out and I fell onto the toilet. Only me. I swear. I started to become worried at this point that I had Bells Palsy of the leg or something. I stood up and I felt very weird. I paced inside the bathroom for a couple minutes, checked the heel on my boot, poked my leg in various places, and started to recover a little. When I got back to the bar, Date#9LowTalker seemed to make a statement about me taking a while or something so I said there was a line. (Yeah, behind my peg leg.) And he said, “But the place is empty.” Whatever. I can’t elaborate with him anymore.
As I sat back down, I said, “Well, I need to get going. I’m supposed to meet some friends in a bit.” He said, “What time?” I said, “Oh, they are gathering soon I would imagine.” Then as I made a move to reach for the check, this conversation happens:
Date#9LT: Have you ever done online dating?
Velvet: Uh, once.
(Yeah, once this week maybe.)
Date#9LT: Did you know a lot of the profiles are fake?
Velvet (what kind of woman would do something like that?): No, really?
Then he launches into a whole story about how he caught someone lying about being a computer programmer. All I’m doing is trying to expedite the bill paying process. I finally throw some money down and as his story brings tears of boredom to my eyes, I hail the bartender to get our change. Then he starts a whole new story about politics of all things and I’m thinking, “What is wrong with him? I am trying to LEAVE.” He says that he thinks Libertarians are the weirdest people. That’s funny because I consider myself a Libertarian, but I don’t consider myself to be among the crazy Libertarians on the ballot every 4 years. Why he is launching into a topic as complicated as politics is beyond me when he sees that I’m zipping up my purse. Get a clue buddy. Finally he poses some deep question to me and I’m seething because I just want to get out of there and I said, “There’s no sense in discussing politics because there’s nothing we can do to change any of this and anyone who believes otherwise is living in a bubble.” You would think he would get the hint that I don’t want to discuss that or anything else, but nope.
I guess he is really lonely. He was nice, but that low mumbling and the conversation hijacking was out of control. When we finally have our change and leave the tip, I stand up. Then, he asks, “So, do you prefer movies or t.v.?” This guy is FUCKING KILLING ME. It was like I was on Candid Camera. I tell him t.v. and I start to make my way to the door.
We get out in the street and I’m like, “It was nice meeting you.” And he says, “Have you seen any good movies lately?” I cannot believe this is happening. I am, at this point, being so far beyond rude because I just cannot take anymore. He wasn’t catching subtle hints like me jingling my keys, he wasn’t catching giant hints like me walking out the door. Finally, a happy little blogger I know pulled up in a cab (yes, all planned out) and as she waved at me he said, “Oh, there are your friends.”
Yes. There they are. Thank you.