Monday, January 23, 2006
I had been a member of an online dating service for a few months, and had had some good dates, but no one who particularly captured my interest. Then I began communicating with a guy who seemed to have everything I was looking for: religion, culture, worldliness, education, a stable job, not to mention being really good-looking. After some emails and phone conversations, we planned to meet for drinks. I was a little irked that he wanted to meet out in his neck of the woods, a good 25 miles away-my mother always said a gentleman comes to the lady- but figured I could use a change of scenery after all. We got to the parking garage at the same time, so I saw him get out of his shiny black Porsche. I'm not materialistic by any means, but I AM obsessed with fast foreign cars. So I'm thinking this guy is indeed a total package. So we're seated...he says he's not hungry, but I am, and order an appetizer. We're having a fantastically entertaining and intelligent conversation-something SO important to me-about the different countries we've visited, art, history, literature, politics, etc. Except that if we disagreed on something, he kept saying, "You'll get over it." Meaning, I'd eventually agree to his way of thinking. I was really starting to get pissed off and decided to look at the wine list. Well, I could hardly contain myself, because the restaurant had my favorite French wine, which is very hard to find here. BIG MISTAKE. I had totally forgotten that he was born and raised in Germany and next thing I know, I'm getting a lecture about WWII and how screwed up France is-not to mention their position on the current war. After listening to this litany for about ten minutes, and I mean, it was REALLY BAD, I very diplomatically said that we probably would not be a good match, as 1) I've been speaking French since I was eight; 2) I am a member of the Alliance Francaise; and 3) I've been to Paris more times than I've been to the corner store. That's when it really hit the fan. He told me that I shouldn't have said that, just continued with the date and parted ways quietly, and, oh, yes, while I had a SOMEWHAT pretty face (okay, not to sound conceited, but all of my friends describe me as "stunning"), I really wasn't anything to write home about, and in fact I was "just a b**** like all the rest" of the women he meets. I very quietly placed some money on the table-which was more than enough to pay for the appetizer I barely got two bites of, since he was, in fact, hungry, and his three beers-and walked out.
Posted by bullwinkle at 5:44 PM