Friday, May 6, 2011

"HauteMess Goes on a Date" or "Why Am I So Shallow?"

On St. Patrick's Day, Mademoiselle BlondeMess and Senorita CalienteMess met me out for a NON Irish Pub Crawl.  We pranced around downtown Cincinnati, hitting up small bars with cheap wine.  4 Bars, and 4 bottles of wine later, I was feeling drunk/brave/frisky and ready to meet someone.  I had a cute St. Patty's Hat on, a wine buzz, and purple teeth - what could possibly go wrong?

Around 11pm, I started worrying that opportunities were passing me by, so when I spotted what looked to be an attractive male walking out of the bar, I pounced.  I grabbed him (gently....I think) and dropped the most clever pick up line I could think of, "Hey!...(pause)... You're cute." 

The sweet poetry of my words won him over immediately, and we started chatting and flirting.  He mentioned that he is 25, so naturally I told him that I am 24.  He asked what I do for a living, I lied and made up something easy to understand.  SIDEBAR: let me just say that this is my least favorite drunken topic.  Most people do not understand what I do...and when I am drunk, the last thing I need is to try to help another drunky understand the complexities of marketing and research...

He has been texting me since St. Patty's day asking me to meet up for happy hours, set up dates, and generally keeping hope alive.  Up until this week, I was deflecting his advances, largely because I didn't really feel like admitting that I lied...or trying to explain why.

But there was just something about his last text that made me think, "He seems like he genuinely wants to get to know me. Why I am I fighting this so hard?  He probably doesn't even remember where I said I worked." So I threw caution to the wind and agreed to meet him for a drink at 7pm on a half price wine night.

AND THEN - my hair stylist had an appointment open up for a Brazillian Blow Out at 8pm...and to be clear, mama is tired of looking like Hermione Granger at best or Mercedes Lane at worst (License To Drive, yo) every time it rains.
So naturally, I took the appointment.  I figured that it could be my "Out." Foolproof plan, really!

My pre-date thought process went something like this:
"How tall was he? Shit...can I wear heels? Ah fuck it - I'll just call it a torture test."
"What timing is fashionable late if you are ditching a date 45min into it?"
"But, maybe I should arrive early.  I don't EXACTLY remember what he looks like.  This way he will have to spot ME! Brilliant!"
"Shit...now I am on time and he is 10 min late.  Somehow playing Words With Friends alone in an empty bar is way more embarrassing than walking in and not recognizing him."

And then, he walked in, spotted me, and walked up for a hug.  He looked ALMOST like I remembered him....blonde, 6 feet tall-ish, young....but something was different....I couldn't put my finger on it.  We ordered drinks and started small talk.  Of course, he asked about work.  I tried to talk my way out of it - insisting that he must have heard me wrong.  But no - he started busting out details.  He even said, "No I remember, you're the girl with soft hair."

Whaaa?  Fucking memory like a steel trap.

Well, that didn't turn out very well.  So rather than admit I lied, I just started telling jokes.  That's when I saw IT.  The thing that was different than I remembered.  It was his teeth....and they were absolutely.....HIDEOUS!!

Some of the worst I have ever seen! (worst among those with a full set...there are still old dudes in the south with Summer Teeth that are worse) (Summer Teeth: som'er yella, som'er green, som'er gone)  I feel confident that adult braces couldn't even fix these.  Oral surgery maybe...maybe.  A front one inverted, the side two impacted behind the front.

The good news is that he didn't show his teeth when he talked...only when he laughed and smiled really big.  I have never willed myself so hard to STOP making jokes...but the more I thought about it, the more nervous I got.  The more nervous I became, the more funny I became.  It's a blessing and a curse.

35 long minutes later,  he walked me to my car and asked if he could see me again.  I forced a smile and said, "Um. Sure!" What was I supposed to say??  "Nah. Bad teeth are a dealbreaker. Sorry boutcha." Honestly, he was nice, talkative, and maybe even sweet.  But, me?  Apparently, I'm just shallow.

On a more positive note, my hair has never been shinier!

2 comments:

  1. Hey soul sister. First of all, I also work in marketing and when people ask me what I do and I tell them, they seem disappointed like they expected me to say something easier to understand, like teacher or nurse. I'm going out tonight and think I will be a dolphin trainer (makes perfect sense for Arizona, right?). This guy was totally into you hanging on from one drinking holiday to the next, but the end of the story explains it because he probably strikes out all the time because of those chompers and you had raised his hope with your opening line way back when! Teeth are totally a deal breaker, you're not shallow! And even if I had a horrible time I always agree to a second date. Maybe I'll try brutal honesty next time. It's a service to the community really.

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  2. i think i could give up meat (i love some bacon) before i could give up my brazilian blowouts! xoxo

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