Frog #3

Not bachelor…full on frog.

It started with a phone call.  Well, an online profile, a message, but then a phone call.  He talked at me for eight minutes. 

We were in the same area of town last night and tried to meet up anyway.  Within two minutes I was over it. 

This was my first chance to be rude.  Make an exit with the friend I was with instead of letting him go on his merry way and leave me with the frog.

I didn’t.

The frog and his fly breath hopped into my personal space.

He hated the bar I was at, which wasn’t all that bad, so suggested we go somewhere else after he swigged his vodka tonic.

We went to another place where he told the waitress we wanted waters.  He talked at me some more. 

He did ask questions.  This is what he wanted to talk about:

1.  Is my hair naturally curly?
2.  Am I German?
3.  Am I an Arizona native?
4.  Did I go to ASU?

The funny thing is, the answers to those questions – yes, yes, technically no, no – were the same EVERY time he asked me.  First he blamed the repeated questions on the drinks he had before we met up, then he tried to say he was just playing with me.

He talked about astrology.  An awkward amount.

He got up to go to the bathroom.

This is where I should have been rude again.

Is it weird that a life goal of mine is to walk out on a bad date?  Perhaps not, because even given the perfect opportunity for it, I still couldn’t.

I waited.  He came back with a beer.  A beer.

I didn’t want to drink anymore anyway, I wanted to get out of there, but still.

He gave me a very condescending look when I said I hadn’t heard of his favorite short story authors. 

Toward the end of the too-long night, he told me I was uptight.  He said he was big on conversation and I wasn’t very good at it because I wasn’t asking him very many questions.    But, he slipped them all in like what he was saying wasn’ t actually kind of rude.

I usually would offer a “well, I’m shy and it takes me a while to open up” as an excuse, but really that wasn’t it. 

I had an early morning today, so I imposed a curfew and took off as soon as I could.  Okay, not true.  I took off as soon as my mother’s leftover etiquette lessons would allow. 

Surprisingly he walked me to my car.  Without breaking pace, I let him talk at me about a concert on Sunday, which was really the genesis of this communication and meeting, which is so not happening now and dinner next week and anything else he wanted.  I just knew my car was getting closer with every step and I was so thrilled by this fact.

With his digs at me, he really didn’t seem all that interested either, but asked for a hug.

He said he was cabbing it home (all of a few blocks) so I called him lazy and he said it came with his job.  He’s a stock broker.  He’s “lazy and rich” he yelled at me as I closed my car door. 

Sorry dude, you didn’t sell it all night, you’re not selling it now.  Go find a girl whose requirements revolve around your supposed money.  I’m a woman who knows that ain’t not worth it.

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3 thoughts on “Frog #3

  1. Nah, you shouldn’t have walked out. You should have thrown your water in his face, or slapped him across it (maybe to knock some sense in the guy), then walked out.

    I will admit to something myself, though: I sometimes repeat questions. No other reason than the fact that my short-term memory suuuuuuucks…

  2. Pingback: How’s that working out for you? | The Next Moment

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