The 'First Date' I Should Have Run From
One of the most absurd dates I’ve ever had was, if I’m really honest about it, my fault. It was my fault because, though I’m not responsible for the “gentleman’s” actions, I ignored a feeling in the pit of my stomach that said, “End it now.” Thirty minutes into the date, I knew this was not the guy for me, yet I allowed the date to go on for another three ridiculous hours because, I suppose, I didn’t want to seem rude, reactionary, like a bitch.
I met Mr. X at a fundraiser gala for a charity. I felt and looked great that night and he looked great and we were drawn to each other immediately. He was good-looking and charming and funny. We lived in different cities, but I had an upcoming business trip to Chicago, where he lives, and I couldn’t wait to go out with him.
We started with drinks at the new restaurant in the lobby of my hotel. As we were waiting for our drinks, he began to brag about his sexual prowess with more detail than I cared to know (which was none). I made a rather lighthearted comment about this not really being first-date conversation. He accused me of being uptight, and continued to tell me more than I cared to know. Continue reading…