I was going to do an extremely long blog post about the host of ridiculous dates I've survived (e.g., the guy who left me at the Delechaise when I went into the bathroom, the guy who picked up another girl at the baseball game he took *me* to go see, the police officer who asked me out after I started sobbing during a traffic stop, the guy who told me a ridiculously sordid story about how his 35yr old roommate and best friend came to pay $400 a month in child support, and the list. could. go. on.) But I don't really have a lot of other material after I let these gems go, so I've decided to spread it out over numerous blog posts.
But tonight, I will tell you the story about the Guy who was a Robotics Engineer.
So, as we all know, when I lived in Atlanta I used to dabble on match.com. I mean, if we're being honest, I've dabbled on match.com since moving to New Orleans, but that is neither here nor there. Anyyywwaay. This very cute brown haired, SEC nerd looking guy started corresponding with me. He was, allegedly, a robotics engineer for some medical device company. The first few messages were totally normal and I thought to myself, "I could do this." Then, he asked me if I wanted to meet up with him at 3pm to get a burrito. I think to myself, "well, odd choice. But at least its no pressure," so I agree. He then sends me an email that says, "Kewl :-@*)" This should have been my first sign that things were not going to go as planned.
A few days later, I arrive at the designated burrito restaurant. I had never been there before, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. As I walk up, I notice a homeless person sitting on the bench outside of the restaurant, and I think to myself, "well at least my profile doesn't give off how high maintenance I am in real life."
I go inside and sit down at the table. As I look around, I am trying to look out for a cute Paul Rudd nerdy engineer type. I shouldn't have looked very hard, because, SHOCKER! who is going to a burrito restaurant at 3pm on a Tuesday. No one, is the answer to that question. I immediately order a beer, and start pounding it, hoping I can get one drink in me before Paul Rudd arrives. After pounding half a beer, I decide, "he's already late - might as well try to get a first round of Queso dip in be before he shows up too." So, here I am, pounding beer and queso dip, waiting for my future husband to walk through the door. By the way, if ever I am questioning why I am single, I needn't look any further than this moment: here I was - on a date, and I was trying to figure out a way to clandestinely, yet quickly, eat an order of Queso dip before said date arrived.
Right as I am finishing the first beer, and the tipsiness is starting to embrace me like a coat of armor, I notice the homeless man from the bench staggering into the restaurant. I immediately dive off my stool trying to grab my bag, sure he is going to rob me. In the process of diving for my bag which is on the floor, I knock over the basket of tortilla chips, and the salt and pepper shakers. I think, "Dear God, if there is any justice in the world, please do not let Paul Rudd walk in right now and see this."
Just as I am sweeping the last chip into the basket, I get up off the floor, stand up, then lift my head. BOOM. There stands the homeless man. I freeze in terror, and start to say, "I'm sorry - I have no cash only credit..." when he interrupts me and says, "Hey. I'm Paul. Are you Layne?"
I can't really tell you what my facial expression was at that exact moment. I'm sure it was hateful, because Homeless Paul Rudd immediately felt compelled to say, "yeah. that picture I have on match is about 5 years old. Also, I've been growing out my hair." I wanted to interrupt him and say, "excuse me son - but growing out your hair implies you tend to it -- I'm p r e t t y sure you haven't run a comb through that bad boy, and if I look hard enough, I might be able to find original signed copies of the federalist papers up in there." Instead I said, "Well, I guess by now you've figured out that I'm not athletic build, either" thinking perhaps a joke might lighten the mood. Instead he responds (after looking me up and down with a semi-disappointed homeless man eyes) "Yeah."
Now finding myself on a date with a person I had mistaken as being housing-handicapped just 20 minutes prior, I decideto make a switch from beer to liquor. Looks like Homeless Paul Rudd has a different game plan in mind, and, without even LOOKING AT THE MENU, orders...wait for it...TWO BURRITOS. You read that correctly. Not one, but TWO BURRITOS. I immediately start looking for the waitress to see if at this moment, so I could go ahead and cancel that margarita and instead replace it with a direct IV line of alcohol. Because I was going to need it.
Right off the batt it became clear that, even if his profile picture might have been a lie, his occupation wasn't. He was DEFINITELY a robotics engineer, because he DEFINITELY conversed like one. After every thing I would say he would feel the need to say, "I'm not sure about that." LIKE, SERIOUSLY. ABOUT ANYTHING. Examples:
Layne: This weather we've been having is great!
Homeless Paul Rudd: I'm not sure about that.
L: The Wire is a great show.
HPR: I'm not sure about that.
L: They forgot to put salt on my margarita
HPR: I'm not sure about that.
L: Law school has been really tough.
HPR: I'm not sure about that.
L: I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humor.
HPR: I'm not sure about that.
It was this last one that caused me to lose my sh*t. You can tell me you're not sure if the weather is good, or if the Wire is good, or if the waitress forgot to put salt on my margarita, OR EVEN if law school has been tough. BUT DON'T EVER TELL ME YOU'RE NOT SURE I HAVE A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR. Because I will LITERALLY knife you. Like, knife you with a plastic half fork half spoon from popeyes if need be. If you really don't think i'm funny, just KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. Because nothing good will come of it.
L: Really? You're not sure about that? You're not sure if I have a good sense of humor?
HPR: No. I'm not sure about that.
L: Okay - I'm going to blow your mind right now -- just because you aren't laughing at someone, doesn't mean they don't have a good sense of humor. It just means yours is different.
HPR: I'm not sure about that. You seem a little uptight.
L: (thinking to myself, "I'M ON A F-ING DATE WITH A HOMELESS MAN RIGHT NOW. HOW UN-UPTIGHT CAN I BE?") Well I guess you are entitled to your opinion.
HPR: Here let me test you. I'm going to tell you the funniest joke in the history of the world.
At this point Homeless Paul Rudd launches into a joke that that requires a 20 minute set up. The set up includes 9 different characters, several of which are brother/sisters, who also happen to be sleeping with each other. There is some oblique references to beastiality. Homeless Paul Rudd is literally chortling the remnants of his second burrito out of his nose as he is telling me this story. I am sitting there totally deadpan. I can tell he is about to reach the climax of this incest joke because he is shoveling the carnitas in his mouth so quickly that most of them land in his beard, where they reside til the end of the date. Finally, he gets to his moment. The whole restaurant of...2 people...is silent. It's like the red sea has parted, waiting for the punch line to this joke. And that is when he puts the burrito down, stares at me intently in my eyes and says,
"And then as he got out of bed after banging his sister, he tells her, 'sucks that Darth Vader is our father."
I proceed to stare at him for 6 minutes. When I realize THAT is the punch line I finally say, "wait, so did you really just tell me an incest joke that required 20 minutes of set up, only for that joke to be a star wars joke in the end?" He was like "you bet I did. See? If you didn't think that was the most hilarious thing you ever heard, I'm not so sure you have a good sense of humor."
At that point I say the only thing I could say: "Can we get the check, please?"
Post Script: my date for tonight is very sorry his business dinner ran long, but would like to "touch base soon" about a "rain-check date." I'm starting to think perhaps this individual is not trying to romance me, but, instead, will probably end up trying to sell me some CutCo knives.
2 comments:
no words
now i'm hungry....
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