On Halloween I decided to rerun a costume from 2003 and went out and rented a top notch Bunny Suit. It is my strong personal belief that if you're going to be daring the thing must be top quality or else you just look like trash. I went to this fabulous shop in the fashion district or whatever it's called where they fitted me twice to get the thing just right. At the end the costume weighed probably 10 pounds between the padding and the boning to cajole all my parts into the correct formation. But it was totally worth it because the final result was pretty authentic. A tip for wearing a daring costume - put on flesh colored dance tights under your fishnets and nothing will jiggle inappropriately.
A girlfriend and I (she was dressed as a ballet dancer) went to this party in Tribeca where our fellow revelers seemed to have invested similar energy into their costumes. I think I was the only Bunny though. Apparently people seem to agree that the Bunny-in-a-Bag thing doesn't convey the same vibe as an authentic costume. But enough about Bunny. The real point to all that background is that going hard like that attracts a lot of attention and it is how I met the gentleman who is the topic of this post.
I met a few cuties that night (which wasn't necessarily the point, I just wanted to party) but one really followed up. He was a bit aggressive but I stalled him for a few weeks to make sure he was really interested and not just Bunny-struck. He seemed legit and pretty nice over text and a convo or two so we made a date for dinner right after Thanksgiving.
He very thoughtfully chose a restaurant in my neighborhood where I met him on a strangely balmy early winter evening. I was feeling really good about myself so I wore flats (ie I didn't feel the need to tart up with heels, he'd already seen me as a Bunny anyway) and walked over. That detail became important later. He arrived a few minutes after me wearing a bow tie and looking quite handsome. Let me say, I was glad to see he was good looking (tall, curly black hair, bright blue eyes, juicy pink lips) because I feared he may have been a strobe light honey. I was even impressed by his in-the-know choice of restaurant - a low key storefront neighborhood spot with an unassuming sign and packed full of locals.
Five minutes into our dinner - during which time my date told me how gorgeous I was no less than 25 times - he excused himself to go to the bathroom. The effusive praise was flattering the first 3 times but the latter 22 were just creepy. I shrugged it off thinking maybe it was because he's from Kansas and/or was also relieved I wasn't a strobe light honey. In fact because of his being from Kansas let's call him CornFed.
So when CornFed returned the waiter was ready to take our order. CornFed had a hard time deciding even though he had mentioned he went there all the time with some of his friends. He also seemed to be unaware that they didn't sell alcohol so as soon as the waiter left he popped up and ran across the street to a bodega to buy us some beer. I was a bit stressed out about ordering because I don't eat meat and we were at a kebab restaurant, but I ordered the one fish dish on the menu. I'm trying to phase out fish altogether but dating and work interfere with that endeavor. Before I go deeper on that topic let's just say at this point I was looking forward to the beer. CornFed was gone 10 minutes this time and since I know the area and the bodega he went to, that was about 4 times longer than it should have taken. Time check: 25 minutes into our 1st date ever, CornFed had left me alone for 15 of said minutes.
When the beer came with Mr. CornFed in tow, I had started eating. He started grilling me about work:
CornFed: So, you work on Wall Street?Me: Yep!CornFed: How do you like it?Me: I love it, it's an awesome job. Glad I still have it.CornFed: But tell me, most of the people you deal with are really bad people.Me: No actually, they're not. They're really nice.CornFed: No, you can tell me, they're really terrible.Me: No. They're not. Pretty cool folks actually.CornFed: But really, they're really awful, right?Me: Funny enough, I really like my clients and my coworkers too.CornFed: You don't have to be nice, most of them are bad people.Me: [pause, smile] Nope. Great folks! How's your food?CornFed: But really, you're just too nice to say it.
Get it?
Then...
CornFed: I have to go to the bathroom.
At this point I was thinking, poor guy, he has the toots or something. How awful on a first date! But then after about 7 minutes sitting there alone AGAIN, I looked over my shoulder and witnessed him, back to me, intensely conversing with our waiter. Hmmmm. When he walked back to the table after at least 10 minutes total he asked if I was ready to go. Mind you I had a mouth full of food at the moment. And he had only taken one bite before shooting off to the bathroom for the second time.
CornFed (still standing): You ready?Me: Huh?CornFed: You finished? We're all settled up here.Me: What?CornFed: We'll come back, next week, we can come back.Me: Uh, ok. Where are we going?CornFed: Wherever you wanna go, the next spot, a party, whatever!Me: Um...Waiter: NO! I DON'T WANT YOU TO COME BACK. DON'T COME BACK EVER.Me (lightbulb!): Ok while you settle this up I'm going to take a call outside really quick.CornFed: Ok.
And I gathered my things, stepped outside and proceeded to literally sprint like FloJo (may she rest in peace) for the next three blocks, until I got out of eyeshot. I didn't want him to step outside the restaurant and see me walking away! When I got home I sent him a text, "Thanks for dinner, sorry I had to split" and CornFed proceeded to wear down my battery calling and texting maybe 14 or 15 times. The last one said, and this is a direct quote because I saved it and am looking at it now: "@ a party with gossip girl crew...care 2 join?" But I think he eventually got the point. Thank goodness he doesn't know my last name or where I live (just the neighborhood). In the future I'll screen guys for total weirdness and/or general cokehead behavior before they get the phone number. I mean really, why else would you get kicked out of a restaurant unless you got caught doing blow in the bathroom?
Just a hazard of dating in the general pool out there. Y'all be careful! And wear flats in case you have to run away.
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