Dating pretty much sucks. First dates are always so awkward, you're either trying to impress who you're with without seeming like you're trying to impress them, or you're trying to be polite but also make sure you don't make any misleading moves or comments because you're really just counting down until it's over while simultaneously coming up with creative ways to dodge their calls, texts, Facebook comments, Twitter replies, etc.
As if first dates aren't uncomfortable enough, add in there a bad first date. Where you're thinking in your head, "why the hell did I agree to this?" or "who is responsible for this disaster?" or "oh, this guy's a real asshole" or my favorite, "Yeah, I'm gonna have to get wasted to deal with this."
I went on a date with this guy (we'll call him... Lame). It was terrible. We had been talking for weeks prior to the actual date and based on the conversations we had (mostly via text) there were several signs he was in fact, a tool. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt (I don't recommend) so I agree to go out with him.
He picks me up, I can't tell if he's drunk already or just obnoxious. He would ask me questions and then when I would start to answer he would cut me off and continue with his own opinion of his own question and stress to me how "real he is." After about an hour of that, that's when I realized I was going to need several drinks if this was how the night was going to progress.
The ride to our date spot wasn't terrible as there was no smalltalk, just him singing the wrong lyrics and trying to play it off to a combination of Drake and Top 40 hits. We end up going to a bar in Brookhaven, and immediately ordered drinks upon arrival. It was at this point I realized that this guy is a close talker (close talkers are real assholes). I kept trying to back away but I was limited as to how far I could get and it just made him lean in further. Not only was he totally invading my personal space, he was spitting while talking! I kept having to discreetly wipe the side of my face and transfer his spit to my bar napkin and pants. I stopped being so discreet once he became more frequent. There was even an incident where a spray went in to my eye and caused me to flinch and pull out my compact. Did Lame notice? No. It got to the point that I had to cover my glass with my hand and drape my hair over my face to avoid saliva in or around my drink/skin. I'm socially awkward so, not knowing how to handle this occurrence, I keep drinking. Lame excuses himself to the restroom and the bartender looks at me and says, "Don't worry, you'll get through it." I'm pretty sure that's how you know it's a bad night!
I'm pretty much texting everyone I know because I can't believe I have gotten myself in such a situation again, while also realizing that I can't leave this guy because he drove. So I did what any mature person would do. I faked a family emergency and said my sister (who lives in Kentucky) was on her way to get me and that I had to leave right then and I would explain later. Really my ex-boyfriend picked me up and took me home which was interesting enough in itself.
Moral of the story, getting spit on isn't cool and dating is stressful.
