Never Date a Kangaroo

It’s always trivial when a man brings you to an ethnic restaurant of his said culture, and openly speaks a language you don’t understand to other guests in the dining room. If I had the option to redefine rude, I would file this under the description without blinking. This happened to me on a first date with a total stranger, and I have to say although the food was great, I left with a bad taste in my mouth. Finding out that he was trying to invite our waitress to have a threesome with us later that evening is a whole other story. Kudos to him for thinking he could make it that far, though.

Have you ever spoken with someone who felt the need to narrate the entire conversation? Almost as if you weren’t the other person engaged in the one-on-one conversation. It’s a riveting experience, especially when that someone doesn’t understand the meaning of sarcasm. Let’s just say, it was a painful 2.5 hours of monotone borderline inappropriate remarks followed by, “that was sarcasm… just so you know,” on repeat. First of all, I created sarcasm—I sleep, eat, breathe and love it. This man wouldn’t know sarcasm if it morphed into Pamela Anderson and sat on his face. Just sayin’.

Post dinner, he made it his mission to hate on my neighborhood in as many ways as possible, fighting desperately to make an invalid case that Williamsburg was the best place to live. We walked passed an arcade bar, and sure it was a dive, but who doesn’t like Stella with a side of PacMan?

His response: “Wow, there’s so many dumps in the Lower East Side. How do you stay here?”

I held my tongue, although the aftermath of two watermelon martinis and a deep-rooted Italian temper were begging me to lash back. Don’t let him hinder your class, I told myself.

We found ourselves walking up the stairway of The Stanton Social, a safe haven that wrapped its arms around me like a search and rescue movement. Now I could plan my escape. Twenty minutes of forced conversation, extremely potent vodkas with soda and the discovery of his world-renowned computer gaming skills were just enough to push me off the patience cliff…. Until he looked directly in my eyes and said with a completely stale face, “You look like an alien... because your eyes are really far apart.”

To which I replied, “if we’re being honest, I think you look like a kangaroo, and I'm gonna bounce.”

Needless to say the night ended shortly after that comment, but unfortunately the nightmare didn’t stop there.

What’s better than waking up to a derogatory text message? A Photoshopped image of an alien riding in a kangaroo pouch subtitled “I want to sodomize you.”

In short, I can’t make this shit up.

Applause to all my single ladies living to tell tales like this one! May the odds be ever in your favor, or at least 75% better than mine.

Xox,

-Melissa Santell

#Myworstdate