The Anti-Clooney

Oh. My. God. That was THE absolute worst date I have ever had in my life. THE WORST!!!

I knew from the moment he told me that he hadn’t thought of a plan for our date and that I should just meet him on the street corner by the train, things would not be good. And then he called to ask ME what I would be wearing. I told him jeans, flats and a top. Which is what I wore. All day long. (I did not dress up for this guy, trust me!)

So I got off the train right at 8:30pm, and texted him that I would be waiting on the southeast corner of the street. But he came up from behind me and there was this awkward hug thing (I think he tried to kiss me but that, thankfully, did NOT happen!) He’s wearing a sweatshirt, a dirty baseball cap, and khaki cargo pants. He looks at me and says: “I thought you said you were not going to dress up?” Buddy, I am NOT dressed up. I’m wearing dirty jeans, a tank top that I wore all day with a pretty blouse over it, and flats and I had my trench coat on. So. Not. Dressed. Up.

As we discuss where to go, I notice a whiff of booze, and I think, “Oh, maybe that was some other street smell. We are in the East Village after all.” And then as we talk and walk west toward Union Square, I smell it again. No. F***ing. Way! The guy was DRUNK! That was so incredibly not cool and I’m just thinking, “How the f*** do I get out of here?!”

He asks me if I like artichokes and I said yes, so he decides to take me to this pizza place (a little bit bigger than a pizza stand) that is known for their artichoke and spinach pizza. I had never heard of it, so I asked where it was. He pointed to the line of people that were waiting OUTSIDE the place and said, “See that line of people, that’s it!” I almost died. This is a first date buddy, what are you thinking? Obviously, he was drunk and not thinking.

So we wait in line for 20 minutes and he tells me in his raspy voice how beautiful I look tonight. I am standing with my arms crossed. I reply (every time he tells me how beautiful I look – a total of 6 times!) “Thank you. That is very kind. I am just SO tired.” I refused to ask him anything about him. I answered his questions with brief statements. I found out he’s a handyman/construction worker (nothing wrong with that) and that my friend Sandy apparently got jealous that I gave him my card last night so she gave him her card too. Whatever. She was wondering who called her at 2am last night from a blocked number.

We get the pizza: uber creamy and actually quite good, but it’s gotta be insanely high in calories, and we sit on a bench that is outside, on the street, watching all the homeless go by on 14th Street. I am panicked the entire time that someone I know will see me. I had my eagle eyes peeled looking both directions, and praying to God that my ex-boyfriend (who lives very near that location) would not walk by. That would have killed me. My thought process: If I did run into someone, I would tell them that I was doing volunteer work and that was why I was with this guy. Like a Big Brothers/Big Sisters thing. Who cares if the guy is older than me. Maybe he’s mentally challenged. Yes, that’s it! That’s why I’m here with him, eating extra-fattening pizza with a drunk guy who looks nothing like George Clooney. Oh my gosh, I am still in disbelief that this happened. Holy cow.

He started asking me about where I grew up and I mentioned that my family moved when I was in 5th grade. He then started talking about how he remembered having to go to the big sex ed talk in the 5th grade and how the boys and girls went to separate rooms in the school gym and how it was so weird and intimidating. “Like, why separate the boys from the girls?” And I just wanted to shout: “You idiot! Because it’s different for boys than it is for girls!” But I just said: “It’s different.” Then pizza sauce spilled ALL OVER his pants. O.M.G. Seriously? When he went to get napkins to clean himself up, I thought to myself, “Maybe I should just run away now. He’s inside, I’m on the street, I can just run. I’m wearing flats!” But then he came back.

So we finished up the pizza and he was a gentleman and took my plate to throw away for me. (He also paid for the pizza.) I pointed at a garbage can that was on the way toward the train. As we were walking back east (and towards the train), he, for some reason, decides that he wants to try to hold my hand. I couldn’t believe it. I did this weird maneuver with my arm to keep it away from his, and said “I’m not comfortable with that.” I mean, seriously?! And then when we got to the corner, he asked me which way I would prefer to go for some drinks: uptown or downtown. I said “I’m not feeling well and I’m sorry but I have to go. I have really bad acid reflux.” And then I ran into traffic to cross the street. I. Ran. Into. Traffic. I seriously almost got hit by a car. When I got to the other side of First Avenue, he was right behind me and asked me “What did I do wrong? I’ve never chased a girl away so quickly before.” I just said “I gotta go, goodnight. I’m not feeling well.” And hugged him and ran down the train steps and onto the train. Time check: 9:10pm

This was my punishment for drinking too, too much. Another reason why I prefer online dating.

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