Today, thanks to the wonders of the internet, I went on what is, by far, the worst date of my life. That’s bad news for me and worse news for your desire for more grandchildren, but wonderful news for the readers of Fantastic Manliness. Normally I would just summarize the experience with “I don’t think we’re going out again,” but in this case that won’t suffice. Because I love you and because I try to post one of these lists at least once a quarter, here are the reasons why I have no future with this woman:
- Her repeated use of the phrase “hot mess,” both to describe herself and others.
- Her working with special-ed kids every day, yet calling them “retards.” This included one reference to “retard strength.” Apparently it’s real and inner beauty is just a myth, so I can’t enjoy Shallow Hal anymore.
- Her thinking I’m weird for having not been to a certain restaurant on Granby Street. That restaurant was Hell’s Kitchen, and it was fine I guess.
- Her failing to understand that the way to stop people from getting into the ladies’ room ahead of her is to get in the line. Instead, she had me watch the door of the bathroom like a creeper. I am not a creeper.
- Her getting offended by the waitress dropping the checks because “how does she know we don’t want anything else? What – does she just want to hustle us out of here?” Yes, stupid, she wants to hustle us out of here. Between the two of us we had a water, a Diet Pepsi, and two wraps. Do you really expect her to think we’re about to buy everyone a round?
- Her responding to my saying I enjoy writing in my spare time with a hand gesture where she pushes a pair of imaginary glasses up the bridge of her nose. Apparently that makes me a nerd.
- Her responding to my description of what I saw at the Norfolk Mini Maker Faire earlier that day with a poorly-rendered version of the “robot dance.” Apparently going to that event also makes me a nerd, and nerds are…robots…or something.
- Her using the word “obviously” in reference to matters of personal taste. For example: “Hell’s Kitchen is the only place on Granby worth going to, obviously.” This sort of thing is not obvious to me, nor is it obvious to most people. I’m sure the chicken caesar wrap at Baxter’s is comparable to the one she was eating.
- Her failing to put her napkin in her lap.
- Her having zero college and zero life plan at age 25. I can see past the first, but the second is a dealbreaker.
- Her having the same first name as my sister. That one’s not really her fault, but it’s still kind of weird.
- Her describing me as “OCD” because I iron my shirts and do my dishes.
- Her sending me this picture when she was on her way. Driving with an open container, texting while driving, and drinking a Bud Light Lime-A-Rita without irony – check, check, and check.
- The horrifying-looking black powdery shit around the cupholders of her car. I’ll admit that could just be the OCD talking.
- I didn’t ask, but she probably doesn’t have the phone insurance.
- Her repeated use of the phrase “hot mess,” both to describe herself and others. I know this one is already on the list, I just did not realize how much I hate it until now.
- She is not attractive enough to make up for a single one of these things, much less all of them. That includes the napkin in the lap.
Sorry, Mom, but I still haven’t found The One. Just take solace in the fact that I won’t be bringing this “hot mess” home to announce that we’re having a baby and eloping next week.