Dates From Hell: Windows Over The Parking Lot With An UnHappy Ending

I'm at a local upscale sports bar, waiting for a date, when a tall tender morsel approaches me. There is no rule against making new friends, I rub my fingers together greedily. We're so engrossed in conversation, I don't realize that I've clearly been stood up. Oh well, one man's trash and all of that. New Cutie Pie, and I end up hanging out the rest of the night and making plans for the weekend. Gotta get under one to get over one, right?!

A week's worth of 'getting to know you' late night phone calls I find out he's funny and smart. Fast forward to Cutie Pie picking me up for our date and actually being cuter than I remember, too good to be true. Right?

So, he decides he wants to impress me and takes me to the restaurant with quote the "VIEW OF THE CENTURY" I cannot make this shyt up. Now, I as I'm sure have typed before, am from New York City- the home of Windows on the World and YES, I had been there before--well that's another blog. But, like a good woman- I said 'Oh that sounds great!' and shut the hell up on the rest.

The restaurant is one I've passed purposely many times before, at the top of a chain hotel, near the Pentagon. It rotates-whee! When I get inI discover that the summabitch rotates soooo fast that I start to feel a little queasy. The smell of fried bar food, stale ciggies and sound of tourist karaoke are not helping matters. I'm sure that place is fun for people who came to town with a convention and are looking to toss a few back, but personally, I'd rather a damn turkey burger from Ben's Chili bowl. A few turbo turntable like round views of: The Pentagon (good), I-95 (bad) and the Pentagon parking lot (tragic). I'm ret ta go.

Blah blah blah fast forward to making out in his car. Less than 10 minutes into your standard teen-throwback dry hump action, do you know this fool...um...COMPLETED his act?! IN HIS PANTS. FML.

Escape My Date

Have you ever been trapped on a painful date?  I sure have.  Let's see... there was that one time a dude told me about his impending WEDDING while we were having appetizers.  Well, ladies, fear those scrubs no more!  Now, there's Escape My Date.

The site uses Twitter to reach out to your friends and rescue you from dating hell.  To make use of the site, sign up with your Twitter info, create a profile and then pick the friends you'd want to reach out to you to escape a bad date.  When that bad date rolls around, send a direct message @EscapeMyDate and they will send the message to your selected friends. If your friends don't call you within five minutes, Escape My Date will automatically call you to give you an out.

Of course, you could just tell that dude he sucks and then quit that bitch in glorious Bianca fashion!

Dates From Hell: Macy Gray, Top Shelf Liquor and a Paper Bag Test- Fin

Part Uno

So, we are finally seated at the fancy Italian restaurant that DeadBeatDad chose. As I mentioned, it's a lovely afternoon- the LAST thing I want is a pasta meal. But I figured, hey- the man is paying. Let me just shut up.

The little college student waitress comes over to take our order. She looks straight from a cornfield. My actual date and I are not big drinkers, and it is 2 in the afternoon, we order ginger ale. DBD however sees this as the hour to get TWISTED, and orders himself a Long Island Iced Tea. As perky waitress is about to walk away, he grabs her arm firmly, and says 'And make sure it's top shelf liquor, I don't want to have to send it back. I can tell the difference."

Poor kid, she's just trying to pay for text books without having to hit the pole. She can't do her lunch shift without liquor grade threats? It's not like we're at "Frank's Hard Liquor and Crap Game Shanty" for chrissake! She looks at me and my date uneasily, like 'Is this mofo serious?!' our silence shows her that he is, she scurries away.

She has been gone a full 5 minutes and DBD is telling this tale of how he does NOT PLAY when it comes to his liquor and 'don't be thinking' you can fool me by substituting sub par libations! NO SIR -REE!

I contemplate killing myself with the shiny butter knife.

FINALLY, my date grows some hair on his clearly un-dropped balls and says 'OK, DAD WE GET IT!' Well he should have never done that. DBD starts to go in on him. "That's the problem, you grew up in the suburbs! People are gonna try to take advantage of you. I knew you shoulda grown up in the HOOD!"

I'm sorry, insult someone I care about? I'm going in. "So, being raised in the the hood makes you a Man?' I smile. Knowing how the man next to me was caring for his ailing grandparents, while working full time AND going to school full time, was making me sharpen my butter knife under the table.

DBD, ignorant as all hell "Damn right! You get to see stuff, living in the city! What did he grow up seeing??? Cornfields and cows!"

Me, innocently inserting and turning the knife. "I'm sure (insert dumb ass son's name) would have LOVED to had spent more time with you, here, when he was growing up." DBD was FINALLY shamed into silence, for the time being.

When the poor waitress returned with his drink. He actually made her stand there while he took a couple of sips to see if it pleased his discerning Top Shelf Palate. Passing inspection he waves her away- after ordering a feast for a KING.

The meal was quiet enough, as he had a lot to contend with... appetizers, 2 more drinks, giant pasta meal--the extra bread bowl. When he would come up for air, he pretty much called me 'whitey and white girl a couple of times.' In what exact context I can't remember--by then I had retreated to my happy place, and designer purses were dancing in my head. Though when the bill came, my naive ass had the nerve to be shocked that Dumb Ass Son reached for his wallet and paid for it. I bit my tongue so hard it was bleeding.

Back out on the street, I'm walking ahead- but can see them behind me in the reflection of the shiny store windows. DBD is nudging his son to peep the giant jubblied hottie inside. I pretend I don't see as he grabs his arm and stops him to look at her. I AM NOW THROUGH! As tipsy DBD is still ogling her impressive rack (hey- no hateration in THIS dancery!). I turn around to my dumb ass date and say, with a psychotic smile, "Wow, she is hot. But unless you are prepared to go in there and scoop her up- I suggest you keep walking! And that will be about the last disrespect I'm taking from you or that man! He's not my gotdamn father!"

I look at my watch, it has only been 3 hours. This is the longest date, no day of my LIFE. Finally, finally (Praise White Jesus and all the West African Saints and Puerto Rican Apostles!) we get rid of DBD because the movie we decided to go see, was one he he thought was "stupid".

No better judge of "stupid" than Stupid, I suppose.

Shortly thereafter, I issued out the old 'It's not you its me...let's just be friends' speech. There is only so much a person can take. And you will never win against daddy issues with a grown ass man.

Yet still.. somehow ---someway.. I manage to rise!

Dates From Hell: Macy Gray, Top Shelf Liquor and a Paper Bag Test - Part Uno

I had just moved to this hellacious town, and was still keeping some of my old Tri-State Area Man Talent in the old rotation. Only a fool keeps an empty stable! And my momma ain't raise no fool! (A trollup, maybe- but definitely not a fool!)

This young man was one of my favorites (that just sounds very Old French Whore): cute, smart, fun, tall -and you KNOW you just don't get tall these days.

Anyyyywhoos...he called me with a whole weekend plan set up for us, that included him making a brief pit stop to his DC based DeadBeat Dad’s along the way. Now, I had the 'pleasure' of meeting his DBD before and expressed gently that I never needed to be in his company again. Family situations can be complicated and not to go into detail, let's just say DBD did not raise his son, and seemed damn envious that his son was a successful MAN without any input from him. My boo had never told me anything nice about the man, and upon our first meeting, I couldn't come up with anything nice to say either. But I had the good sense to Shut The Hell Up, out of Respieto. Let's see how long that could last.


It’s a gorgeous early summer weekend, and I’m excited...a man a girl can wear heels with, fine sea crustacean and sunshine. What more can a girl ask for? Apparently a girl needs to be more specific with what she DOESN’T want as much as with what she WANTS. I was about to learn. My young tenda fella calls me around 11 am. He's leaving his dad's house and he'll be over in twenty minutes.

TWO hours later, he shows up with DBD in tow. JIGGA, WHAT? I open the door with the fake grin pasted on my face. "We're just dropping my dad off..'' he whispers as his father looks like he's 'casing the joint'. I push them both out onto the sidewalk. "OK, LET'S GO'' Now his dad is asking me about the neighborhood property values. Not in that 'making conversation way' but in a: 'Get my 'ish the fast way, ski-mask way, leave a ransom note!'- (RIP, BIGGIE) tone. I ignore his questioning and change the subject, every time. (As I said before, my momma ain't raise no fool!)



We get to the car. Has dad suggests that I sit in the back because his legs are longer. Holy fock. I enjoy sitting back there only so I can shoot daggers at his son, who refuses to look me in the eye. Finally, I take matters into my own hands.. 'Mr. DeadBeatDad, what are you doing with your gorgeous Saturday?!' I smile.



''Hanging out with my son!" is his answer... now, I'm still hopeful because if there's one thing that deadbeat dads have is a LOT of kids, so really he can mean anyone in a 10 mile radius. I innocently ask,"Oh which one?!" DBD laughs, "The one right next to me!" he says like I'm nuts.

Well, guess I can put them panties in my purse on.

Still cordial, because I was raised right, I politely converse with DBD and Son Who's Ass I'm going to Kick (henceforth known as S.W.A.I.G.T.K) from Capitol Hill to Georgetown. I think that I'm being hella graciuos since our Annapolis sea food bonanza trip is now cancelled, because 'Dad's allergic to shellfish'...this is some bulljive, you KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT MY FOOD!!

As we're sitting in M Street traffic, I'm listening to Guy-Talk in the front seat, on my date. As we inch past the sex toy shop and this man nudges his son.. 'Aw yea, you guys gonna stop in there? I know you're a freak like your dad!!!' S.W.A.I.G.T.K looks suitably horrified and I throw up in my mouth.

To sedate myself, I count popped collars on the sidewalk.

Randomly, DBD proudly and firmly declares 'MACY GRAY IS THE FINEST BLACK WOMAN ALIVE!'' I am not kidding and I am not exaggerating. DBD of course keeps pressing, because he's a douche, "I bet you neither of you can name me one, JUST ONE black woman finer than her!" His son is dumbfounded. I can't be contained and say, "Vanessa Williams (hell both of them), Lisa Bonet, Halle Berry, King Queen Latifah, Nancy Wilson, HELL Nancy Sinatra, shit ME!''

DBD glares at me and says "None of them are African Queens!!!"

Well, I beg to differ. Halle as Queen let you know that she IS indeed Nigra. I joke. But he is looking for a race war and goes on a rambling tirade about how I'm not black (to him) and my features have been diluted and therefore I cannot appreciate true African beauty when it's in my face. I reply. "First of all, it's not like you said Alek Wek (who I think is a cutie pie, btw). I'm not even going to engage a 'black enough' conversation. However, while I have never vomited at the sight of ''Macy Gray'' she has never stricken me as the hottest sister alive. (Highest maybe, which could be the attraction.) But, hey we all view beauty differently.'' I say diplomatically, trying to remember that this is someone's dad. But nooo, he presses the issue and goes on a long tangent that basically calls anyone lighter than a paper bag ugly. Insulting me and ironically, the son sitting next to him. I say "So, all black people who do not look 100 percent Watusi should kill themselves? Cool, hey, S.W.A.I.G.T.K. maybe we can get a group burial discount!'' DBD shuts up finally. THANK GOD.

That is until we get to the restaurant of HIS CHOOSING.

to be continued....

Brew True Stories: Dates From Hell

I'd only been in town a few months, and was accepting invitations to any and everything. If someone would have mentioned a meeting in the Ladies Room, I woulda offered to take the minutes. So it was not odd that I found myself on a rooftop deck, enjoying a stranger filled boho-fabulous Cinco de Mayo. This is where I met-damn I don't even remember this clown's Gub'ment name. Let's call him "Creamy Corners Sexy Cellphone". I do, and you'll see why.

Anywhoo, over my cinco-ish margarita, I see homeboy making eyes at me. He's totally not my type (he reminds me of that lame they brought on, during the last season of Living Single. Mel Blackctor somethin' or other...I hate that cat). But I figure new town new rule, besides what's my 'TYPE' gotten me before? Nathan, but penetration! (Cause it never smells like sanitation..bo'kay?!) -we exchange information.

Several days and tons of phone calls to me (seriously, I need to stress that) later, we solidify a date plan-- which he calls the very next day to reschedule. He claims has GOT to go back home (to NY) for the weekend to take care of some business. I don't know any place of business that is on and poppin' on Saturday and Sunday... but I shut my trap and say 'Okay.' He is already shifting onto my 'No, Thank You Sir' list, But trying to be a better more patient and understanding person, I agree to the new next Saturday date.

The following Monday after his weekend ''Business Meetings'' he calls and says 'felt so bad all weekend for cancelling" and has to see me stat! "Let's do lunch." Remembering the new flexible me, I agree. He meets me at my office. In his car I give him a list of at least 6 eateries in the neighborhood that are 'Me' approved-in a myriad of price ranges. I take my meals effin seriously! He ignores all of my suggestions...and pulls into the parking lot of HOPS.

When I say 'You know, I really don't drink beer, or really like the smell of it (it's a personal quirk, but if you are trying to get to know and impress me- you may want to take note of it, no?) plus I was thinking some place a little quicker.'' he ignores me and parks. Already I know it's a wrap... but I try to salvage the rest of my lunch hour and at this point get out as painlessly as possible.

As the waiter is setting up his micro brewery tasting out in front of him. His cell phone rings. He smiles. You know that smile when someone has recently laid some hellafied sexytimes on you and you see thier number in your caller ID- the smile you can't contain. Yea that's the smile. He looks like he considers not answering, but she (or he...you don't know these days) must have dropped some Magic City stylee moves on him-... because he answers. "Heyyyyyy...." he drawls. "oooh yea I left that a your place?(giggle- THE MAN GIGGLED!) oooh man whooo..ahhh'' he mumbles a whole lot of unintelligible things and I try not to listen- but, you know.. I'm SITTING AT THE TABLE!

The waiter comes to take our food order. One would think this would be a great time for him to hang up. Nope, he covers the phone with his hand, places his order- and gestures at me to place mine. I think I said that I love food, but now I'm pissed and order the quickest thing I see- because I'm friggen starving and want to get out of there stat.

The waiter brings our salads, and dude commences to dumping damn near a bowlful of the creamiest of white dressings on his. All while still talking on the cellphone. He is now not even looking at me. Honestly, I'm stunned into silence at this point. (It is possible, to render a black woman speechless). Now he is chewing and macking in his phone...( All I can think is he must have a powerful weekday calling plan). As he murmurs sweet crazies, the residue of Ranch dressing is pooling in the corners of his mouth. It looks like he's eating a glue sandwich and I am now sick to my stomach. I put my fork down and stare at the large screen TV over his shoulder. I would stare at him in disgust, but it looks like he's having a Ranch dressing orgy and I'm seriously going to puke.

TEN MINUTES LATER This mug is still on the phone as I request the check. He looks startled and says 'Heyyyyyy let me call you back.'' I'm thinking 'please don't on my account.' He does NOT apologize for his rudeness, just keeps talking like he had not be straight phone macking 7 inches in front of me.

"I need to get back to the office." I say firmly and dryly. Looking confused and a bit hurt, he gets his food to go.

Dropping me back off at the office, my foot is out the car before he can even stop it all the way. "Hey girl, we've gotta do this again, soon..' he drawls 'sexily' then do you know this fool had the nerve to lean in FOR A KISS? And Yes, he still had some ranch residue in his corners.

Dates from Hell: DooDoo Brown Edition

Went to dude's house to chill (we've been talking for like months) he was well-established, career-wise. His apartment looked like a house for squatters. I needed to use the bathroom but the bathroom looked like it should have been housed in a gas station, the toilet looked like it had never had water in it. The once white porcelain bowl had been disrespectfully turned brown PERMANENTLY!

I walked to his room because well, he had no couch. His bed was not made and had bills and envelopes all over it. Sat on the bed to see pieces of hard rice, I assume from his previous dinners, and little black pellets which could have been burnt rice or worse, mouse droppings.

Yum.

I sat on the edge of the bed- scared to sit and scared to stand. We began to watch a movie and he started to snore 5 minutes in. He apologized profusely and sat up and actually got on his cellphone because 1 of his clients called him. While on the phone, his bedroom light blew out.

He put his client on hold and said "yo L go get a lightbulb out my linen closet in the hallway." My response, "AYO! I ain't doing anything!" He got pissed said he was too comfortable to get up and I wasn't a team player.

Few minutes later, he is off the phone telling me how much he likes me then he rubs his stomach, guess he got a case of the bubble guts. Son proceeds to get up and go to the bathroom, after he was gone for about 5 minutes...the most pungent odor trailed down the hall to where I was sitting. Pepe Le Pew would have passed out.

I began to get queasy and grab my things. He came out of the bathroom as he heard my heels tip toe down the hall (Ed. note: Did he wipe and flush? ew). When I told him I was leaving he became very confrontational and called me a stuck up brat and wannabe princess. He threw money at me for a cab and slammed the door right behind me.

Yea, it was midnight in the middle of an apartment complex in the South Bronx. I could have been mugged, raped or even murdered, but at that moment I rather had all of the above happen than see dude again.

Princess in El Bronx