So, after moving back to New Orleans, I re-started my match.com membership, deciding to try and shake off the memories of my ill-fated date with the homeless man. I dabbled a little bit early in the summer, but then the bar exam took over my life, and so I put match on hiatus. After I started working, I didn't really actively do anything on there, and just sort of let the fish come to me. Which is how I found myself exchanging match messages with a Cajun.
The Cajun and I finally decided to meet. He had suggested a place, which I summarily rejected, and I instead suggested a bar that served french fries fried in duck fat with mayonnaise dipping sauces on the side. Like with much of my behavior, I do things like this to weed out the wheat from the chaff. Or however that saying goes. If you are the sort of man who is intimidated both by my aggressive decision making and my love of aoli dipping sauces, we are not going to make it as a couple.
As soon as I agreed to the date, however, I started to want to immediately back out. So I started hedging. For example, I decided not to go home and get all spruced up for it -- so I texted him and told him, "just as a FYI - i'm going to be coming from work so I will be wearing a suit." Well, wouldn't you know, bless his heart, he suited up too. Which I knew he did not wear to work because he had earlier told me his job was very "casual." So he must have literally gone home from work, gotten out of the khakis, and changed into NOT ONLY A SUIT, but, like suspenders, and a gold pocket watch.
We sit down. At first, it's sort of normal first date conversation, but then he starts to say things, which make no sense whatsoever. AND Y'ALL KNOW ME. I JUST COULDN'T HELP MYSELF.
Cajun: So, the thing is, even though I don't have a law degree, my boss gives me a lot of legal stuff to do because he trusts me so much.
Layne: Please elaborate
Cajun: Well, he has me look at taxes, and read the law, and write things about it, so I basically feel like i'm a lawyer without all the debt.
Layne: I mean, you're not a lawyer.
Cajun: I don't know, I do a lot of lawyer stuff
Layne: No, you're not a lawyer, and B) There are some ethical and professional issues with what you are saying to me.
Cajun: Well, he has me reading about Court cases.
Layne: Okay, so, anyone can read about court cases. My little brother is 13 and read Marbury v. Madison in his 8th grade class. That does not make him a lawyer. There's a little more to it than that.
Cajun: The thing is, law school would just be a waste of time because I know it all already. I know all the law.
Layne: YOU REALIZE GOING TO LAW SCHOOL IS A PREREQUISITE TO BECOMING A LAWYER. Even if it is a "waste of time."
Cajun: I mean, I just make too much money right now to waste my time with law school.
Layne: (looking around frantically), where the f-ck are those duck fat fries?
Later in the conversation...
Cajun: So, I was at my dad's house watching the LSU game, when...
Layne: Oh, are your parents divorced?
Cajun: No.
Layne: But you said your dad's house?
Cajun: Well, they live in two different cities, but they are still technically married.
Layne: Are they legally separated?
Cajun: No, they cannot do that. It would be a mark on my family's name
Layne: Excuse me?
Cajun: My family. They are very important.
Layne: Who is your family?
Cajun: I'd actually rather not say
Layne: I mean, you realize I'm just going to go home and google this, right? (Note: I did - and his family had nothing about them on the internet. They made my family look like the Rockefellers)
Cajun: It's just something I am very protective over, and I'd rather not talk about it.
Layne: Well you were the one who brought it up, so....
Cajun: I'm going to get another drink.
When Cajun returned from the bar, imagine my surprise when he came back with wine for me, and not one...but TWO BEERS for himself. Yes. I was so abominable that this man started double fisting drinks.
I looked at my watch thinking, "surely I have been here for over 4hrs." It had been 35 minutes. As I watched the Cajun chugging his beers, I kept thinking to myself, "how on earth am I going to get out of this..." I needed a moment for myself, so I said, "excuse me - I'm going to be going to the restroom." I took my purse and went into the single stall bathroom in the back and locked the door. I exhaled. And continued exhaling for about 10 minutes. Finally, my crippling social anxiety in check, I decide to go back out there.
But IMAGINE MY SURPRISE when I walked out and the Cajun was not at the table. Surely, he must be at the bar I thought. Nope, he wasn't there either. Then I checked outside. No sign of him. Then I walked around by myself for 15 minutes, expecting him to finally come out of the bathroom. He didn't. He had left me when I was in the bathroom.
Thankfully we were at a "pay at the bar" type establishment, so he didn't leave me with any check. I was in total disbelief and shock as I walked home from the bar.
But the story wasn't over. You see - the next day, match.com informed me that the Cajun had sent me a match.com email. This ought to be good, I thought to myself. I clicked the link, and proceeded to read:
I believe that I owe you an apology. You caught me on probably one of the worst work days that I’ve probably had in some time. The fact that I left my cellphone on vibrate instead of on silent alerted me to each of the seven missed calls I had from my angry boss and sent my anxiety levels over the edge. The caffeine crash didn’t help. Hence, my loathed judgmental side came out. That was probably not the trip you had envisioned to Delechaise and I wholeheartedly apologize.
I should also probably tell you that two of the stories I told you were lies. I come from a profession where I must see if the person in front of me is corrupt. The two previous people that I talked to using this website had mal-intentions of talking to me when they surmised the full extent of who my relatives are and what I do for a living. To date, you are the first “ethical” person I have met on here. Consequentially, if you had been anything other than pissed or put off after I told you those stories to test you, this message would not exist. My greatest fear in this whole process is that you would somehow find out who my relatives are and have a pre-disposed attitude towards me based on the outdated literature out there.
Can I get a re-do on a better night of the week? Perhaps an Uptown restaurant or if you’re up to traveling, my work's Christmas Gala in Baton Rouge?
Sincerely Yours,
Redacted.
1 comment:
This sounds like the first chapter of "Fifty Shades of Crawdads," except you'd have to answer the message.
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