PART 2
The very first date I went to on in Los Angeles was with a guy
that I was fixed up with by a new friend. I will call this little
peach "L.A. Guy". He embodied all that I thought L.A. was as a
stereotype. On the phone he suggested PF Changs for dinner. I am a classy lady,
and normally I would have suggested nicer accommodations for our first date,
but ooooowwweee PF Changs is f*ckin' good.
Just thinking about the Lettuce Wraps makes my mouth water. (Mental note: Stop by the Changs after work.)
On the phone
L.A. Guy suggests picking me up, and because the Book of Colby had yet to be
written into the dating Bible, I said that it would be fine. ("Don't do it," my gut says.) He picks me up and right
away I think he is a major douche bag. (My “new” friend, the Matchmaker, is now my “ex” friend.) L.A. Guy drove a car he
couldn't afford, and was dressed in so many labels I thought he might be
Euro-Trash. (You know the type with a
tight black t-shirt that has Emporio Armani across it, decorative jeans and
very pointy over-the-top shoes.) No, he was from the OC. (Worse!) He was dropping names here and there, and talked about clubs
and work events with Red Carpets ... blah, blah, blah! In my head I had a song
playing through the entire date, "Douche ...
Douchhhhhheee .... Douche Bag Bag Bag ...", but I made nice
and chit-chatted with him. PF Changs in my mouth was the only thing that was
salvaging my evening! The waiter couldn't take our order fast enough, if you
ask me!
I knew the
date was really going down-hill when he started oddly interrogating me. The
first question being ... "Do you have veneers?" I said no. He
doesn’t' follow it up, but just puts it out there. Second question ...
"Are you wearing make-up?" I said no, but I didn’t let him get away
with just dropping that bomb, so I asked him, "Why do you ask?" He
tells me that my skin is perfect and that he couldn't see any zits (at least he wasn’t a complete moron), so he thought I must be
covering them up. I said no. The final question ... "Do you have
Botox?" He followed this one up on his own and said, "I am a little
younger than you, but you look so much young than me." The bitch twinkled
out of me and I said, "That says more about you, now doesn't it?" I put it out there and let it hang in the air. I was
not amused by this interview concerning my appearance. All I could do was focus
on my Kung Pao Bean Curd while listening to his boring chit chat.
Fast forward
... he drives me home. We are outside my building, and he asks, “So am I coming
upstairs?” (Looking back, I should have
had him pick me up and drop me off two buildings down.)
Ok ladies, let
me tell you why I was confused by his question, and why my jaw hit the floor.
After the third question, I decided that I needed an OUT. I needed something
that could end this date with no questions asked. I was not against freaking
him out completely, and risking him talking to his friends about Crazy Colby. I
could live with bad press as long as the date ended when he dropped me off. I
didn’t want an awkward “good night”, so I sent a clear message. I told L.A. Guy
that I had really uncomfortable stomach pains. I said it midway through dinner
and I let it build. I mentioned it a few times more over the next 40 minutes.
So, when he asked if he was “coming up” … I was beside myself. To be blunt, I
thought stomach issues might give the clear idea of explosive diarrhea. Oh yes
… I was pulling out all the stops to seal the f*ckin’ deal! Obviously, this did
not occur to him. (Good Christ! I realized that
I would have to take this all the way and, as the song says, “Slide into home!”) I inform him that I have
diarrhea. (Oh yes, I said it. A looooow
in my dating career.) I thought that no gay man wants to risk the Poop D*ck during
sex. (If they do … I may be in
over my head. I like the fetishes and role-play action … but poop is a general
area I don’t go. TMI? Get over it!) My confession worked, and
I was able to leave him, and the date behind me for good. He never called
again. Amen!
You would
think I would have learned to screen better for the future, but no, it took a
few more bad dates to learn my lesson…
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