First dates often conjure up feelings of fear and worthiness. At least, for me they generally do. I'd rather go on job interviews than maneuver through a first date. And for me, personally, I often feel pretty awkward; I think I'm kind of a weird girl. Or at the very least, I have a weird sense of humor. I also have hobbies that other women my age aren't really interested in. I could go on and explain myself, but that's not the focus of this particular entry.
Recently I read a book about dating and it made a lot of sense. Granted, there were parts that I thought were just plain silly, but the one phrase that resonates with me is "stop accepting being treated poorly." Keeping that in mind, my perspective on dating has shifted and I am happier to be single and avoiding being treated like dirt. I realize that the "dirt treatment" had less to do with the guy and more to do with me and what I will tolerate.
What does a first date have to do with the "acceptance" thing? Well, months ago, I had a first date. A few red flags were tossed up but, not having read the book at this point yet, I accepted the red flags and excused them as merely quirks of the gentleman. I figured that a second date would reveal more about this man's personality and true intentions.
And they did.
We met up for a cup of coffee; I was running late and he had started to text me, impatiently. Well, listen up, bud, I'm a single mom and I was leaving my daughter with the babysitter. I had to take care of a few things. It wasn't like I wasn't coming, I was just running late and I clearly communicated that (because, frankly, I hate it when people are late on me, too!). I showed up and apparently I was running so late that there was no more time for me to have a cup of tea. He was ready to go on to the next location.
It was a bar that I had selected which is known for having a zillion different micro brews. Personally I'm more of a hard cider gal and for that, they carry a number of lovely hard ciders. In total, I had two draft ciders and he had either three or four of some kind of IPA. Apparently he neglected to check on the price and he was shocked when the tab came back, totally over $40. I didn't think that this was unreasonable; good cider and good beer. I had selected a cider that runs at a mere $6 a glass, so the rest was up to him.
I knew I had a larger budget than him, so I offered to pay; he refused. He wanted to pay. That would have been sweet and all if it hadn't accompanied a loud whining resentment of the beer and the over-exclamation of the "ridiculous" cost of the beer. I was embarrassed.
Hopefully that was the end of that...we moved on to the next location, dinner. We went to a local pub type eatery as his friends band was going to play in the upper level later that evening. That was kind of the focus on the whole evening, actually. Drinks, dinner, music. Nice, eh?
It was embarrassing at the bar to hear the exclamations over price. It was even worse when the exclamations over food prices at the pub began. First he ordered another very large beer. He was pretty well intoxicated at this point. I'll admit, I ordered another cider (for if only to try to blur out the evening's pain which was starting to become evident). He reviewed the menu and started to exclaim over the prices; I personally didn't think that there was anything out of the ordinary here, but he certainly did. honestly, it wouldn't have been so bad had there not been, you know, other patrons within earshot. Patrons who were celebrating a birthday (I vaguely remember him piping in and singing happy birthday with them, loudly, but I can't be certain-- I was probably hiding under my napkin), patrons on a romantic date, and another couple or two, scattered about.
I insisted on paying the bill, for if only to get him to shut up.
Since we hadn't ordered any huge meal and we had time to kill before the music, we decided to head over to a little hole in the wall type place and have some more food. And for him, more beer. I selected a glass of Portland's finest city water. He was happy at the prices (though I was paying for them, yet again) and apparently pleased at our servers ass. She had taken our order and as she was walking away, I saw his eyes do that whole up-down thing.
Are you kidding me?
I called him on it. He made it a joke and said I was paranoid. Said it was natural for a guy to look.
At this point, remember, I still hadn't read the book, and despite being highly irritated, I kept up with this nonsense. I guess I am much more tolerant than I would often believe.
We began to walk up back towards the pub with the music. It was in this next action where my mind started to change in how I was thinking about this whole date.
He stopped off in an alley way to pee.
I was mortified.
I am not your bro. I am not your homeskillet. I don't want to wait for you while you are peeing in an alley. I don't want to watch out for you for cops. What the hell.
We got to the pub and ordered drinks. At this point, I knew there weren't enough strong drinks in the world to make this night better.
Once at the pub, having drinks in hand, he proceeded to pretty much ignore me. He chatted with his friends, barely looked at me, and joined in with the dancing while I sat at the table. I was miserable.
I remember sitting there, thinking, is this really how I am spending my Saturday night? Is this really what I think of myself to allow a man to behave like this around me...to treat me like this? Really?
Come on, girlfriend, you are better than this! You deserve better! What on earth! Belching, peeing in the alley, dropping ass...throwing fits over prices, blatantly checking out other women?
I left.
Yep, I just got up and left. Walked right out. It took him about 45 minutes to notice I was gone. That's when the text messages started coming in.
"Where are you? Why did you leave?"
"What am I supposed to do-- I'm too drunk to drive.."
"That's really shitty of you...you're A, B, and C"
"I'm sorry I was a bad date...what am I going to do, I'm drunk!"
He called me, I think, but frankly, at this point, I just wanted to get home and forget this entire evening.
I picked up that book shortly thereafter and read it cover to cover in just two days. And it was like the clouds parted and I realized that the biggest problem I had with finding these kinds of men is...me!
I accept poor treatment. I make excuses. I let men get away with bad behavior. And why? Because I'm afraid of being alone. Well, after that nightmare of a date, I realized that damn, I'd RATHER be alone than have that become my reality.
I hope that having this realization will change the flavor of my dates (and it seems to have had that affect already), so perhaps this blog will just vanish altogether.
I'm sure, though, that I have bad dates awaiting me though...and you'll hear about then...
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