As some of you may recall, in my two-month anniversary post, my goal for March was to go on a second date.
And as of this week, I have finally broken my long string of first dates. Mr. Almost There, the ONE decent date that I’ve had all year, asked me out for a second date!
And even though sparks didn’t exactly fly on our first date (he was a munchkin), I said yes so that I could give him a second chance to charm my pants off — a second chance to make me overcome my inability to be attracted to a munchkin man.
So this past Thursday night, and even though I had pulled out my flattest pair of shoes I was feeling optimistic…
…until I saw him.
Mr. Almost There looked like the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. (This is the second time that my date has resembled a character from Alice in Wonderland — see Mr. Cheshire Cat. Perhaps my dating life is just one endless LSD trip…)
He was wearing that very jacket AND carrying an enormous umbrella with a wooden hooked handle. What made it worse was the fact that the length of his umbrella was almost 3/4 of his height!
I had to take deep breaths to avoid laughing hysterically. I almost gave myself the hiccups.
It didn’t help that when he started walking, he looked like the Disney version of the White Rabbit —>
Absurdly funny, but definitely not sexy.
Especially considering that I was still taller than him in my flat shoes (again, I’m 5’3″, people).
But then it got worse.
On this second date, Mr. Almost There came across as a bit of a condescending prick. He asked me where I went to university, and after I told him, he started acting like a patronizing ass-face.
He probably felt insecure about whether he measured up intellectually. Either that or he thought that I’d be turned on by a man who antagonized me about everything from not putting accents in emails sent from my iPod (the thing doesn’t even do accents!) to being unable conjugate “promouvoir” in the subjunctive (dude, I know French people who can’t conjugate it in the present tense).
What an asstard.
Munchkinosis + asstardedness = zero chance of hanky-panky.
His insecurities about our intellectual equality were well-founded after all… because he definitely didn’t understand that equation.
Mr. Almost There somehow thought that our date was coming along swimmingly. At the end of the night, as we were saying our goodbyes, he leaned in for the kill…
It’s times like this that I LOVE living in France — a country where la bise, the kiss planted on each cheek, is a perfectly polite greeting and parting salutation.
… so I deftly executed what I call the Mouth-to-Cheek Slide, my best post-date-kiss evasion tactic. I round off the move with a full la bise and step back to admire my handiwork.
The look on his face was priceless.
Befuddlement, sheepishness, and irritation.
The best thing about all this: the condescending turd can never accuse me of being impolite!