Saturday, October 20, 2007

Why I never really liked Frasier

You know it's a bad date when you find yourself drifting out of mid-date conversation and instead writing the follow-up blog entry in your head. Internet, it was so bad. My one consolation was thinking, well, at least the Internet may get some amusement out of this. Internet, I dearly hope you're amused.

My date was quite...foppish. Ok, let's be honest. He was Niles Crane, only with more swishing and hand-flapping. He was wearing dress pants, a button-up shirt, a cardigan, and a scarf. Also, it was 70 degrees out. I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and wondered if perhaps I should have made more of an effort. Though he did compliment my shoes.

We fought our way through the crowds in town for the regatta, only to find that Grendel's, like everywhere else, was much too crowded. I've never seen that many people in Harvard Square before, and found myself getting claustraphobic, though I was outside. We made our way to Crazy Crusts in The Garage, which was distinctly un-chic enough to keep most of the crowds away, with the added benefit of $4 pitchers of PBR. There, the situation took a turn for the decidedly worse. Though the temperature outside hovered around 70, the pizza ovens made the temperature inside much warmer. Within minutes, Foppish Guy was dripping sweat from every pore. We stood in line as he ineffectively fanned himself with his scarf. No! I wanted to scream. Don't fan! Mop and wipe! He looked as if he had dunked his entire head in a pitcher of water. It was so bad, I think the pizza guy said something to him. I overheard them as I retrieved napkins. "Hey, you're uh, sweating a bit there," pizza guy said. "Oh I know," Foppish Guy replied. "Isn't is awful?" We sat down as he continued to swish, mince, and drip his way through the date. Appetite? What appetite?

We sat there for an hour and a half; after all, we had a whole pitcher of PBR to work through. He recited Chaucer, in old English. He kept touching my arm in a quite disconcerting way. "So, do you have any plans for tonight?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, I have to meet my roommate," I lied.

"What time do you have to meet her?" he asked.

"Oh, I have to meet her at, um, uh, at um..." (Don't look at your watch, don't look, just say a time, just say a time that will let you leave right now, just say a time) "at um, 7:00." (Look at watch. 6:25. Perfect).

We walked outside and said goodbye. "Ok, well I'm going this way," he said. Ok, In that case, I'm going that way. "It was so nice to meet you! Let's do it again!" And with a kiss on the cheek and a swish of his scarf, he was gone.

And I breathed the biggest sigh of relief imaginable.

For you, Internet. This one was for you.

10 comments:

  1. well, there's always mint lipstick boy...

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  2. I feel on the verge of offering a mass apology for every adult male in America. I mean, is that as good as it gets these days? Jesus.

    On a slightly different note, I should say that no well-bred young ladies should be abroad on the streets of Boston for about the next 10 days or so. You may encounter a ruder (and possibly much drunker) sort male. They will not, however, be wearing scarves. Just a little advice.

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  3. Do you ever worry that men you've dated might find out about your blog? Keep up the good work...it's all very amusing!

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  4. That would be embarassing, huh? Yeah, I suppose I do worry, but that's why I try to keep things fairly anonymous. My biggest worry is not blabbing on a date about my blog...uhh...not that I've done that or anything...Me and my big mouth.

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  5. Mint lipGLOSS, Grumpy. Everyone knows there's no such thing as mint lipstick, silly. Sheesh. Men. ;)

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  6. Uh, so what is lipgloss, exactly? (This may be a generational proble.)

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  7. For a hilarious description of the important and subtle differences between lipSTICK and lipGLOSS, go here

    And uh...scroll down a little. Or just read the whole damn thing because it's hilarious. Then go out and impress your female friends with your newfound knowledge.

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  8. Well, at the risk of coming off creepy, _I_ am one of those former dates. We had fun, but apparently it wasn't a Match for whatever reason; the standard I didn't call you / you didn't call me. You were very cute, and good at conversation. I guess I'm glad I never made this blog as it seems you put mostly the horror stories. Now you're probably wondering exactly which one I am...boy this _is_ starting to seem creepy! Rest assured, I'm a good natured soul who is pulling for you to find what you want!

    Cheers...

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  9. Hey Been There...at the risk of coming off as skeptical and/or slightly creeped out, how do you know you went out with me, especially if I didn't write about our date? As far as I know I don't have my full name anywhere in here, no pictures posted...I don't get it?

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  10. Well, I stumbled upon it while Google stalking you before our date, standard operating protocol for any savvy internet dater. I think your username was the same as your Blogger name. It seems this is not the case anymore so feel free to sleep soundly. I must admit narcissistically checking your blog the next couple days after our date to see if I made it (who wouldn't do this?). Alas no...our brief time together relegated to unrecorded obscurity. Since I like your humorous writing style, and your adventures somewhat mirror my own, I've continued to be an avid reader.

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