I am beginning to think that there are a lot of men who don't like woman. Not in a gay way, as in not wanting to have sex with woman, but in an opposite to gay way... they want to have sex with woman but don't really like them. I think they should be shot in the head.
Yesterday, I met a guy for coffee. We had been chatting online and he seemed rather intelligent and friendly. He didn't try to get sleazy or tell me about his 21" cock or anything like that. He was pretty keen to meet face to face because he doesn't like chatting online. Fair enough, I said I would meet him around 12.00.
Now this was a pretty major sacrifice for me because I was having a dinner party last night. I had to cook and clean and fiddle-faddle around the house as you do when you are having a dinner party. But I took time out of my busy fiddle-faddling schedule to shower and do my hair and put on a 'coloured-in' face and hoist up the boobies in heavy-duty yet decorative bra (I was going to go for the low-cut and sexy look but decided on a sensible jumper instead).
Now in these times of political correctness I am not sure if it is still correct and proper to use the term ugly, so lets just call him facially-challenged. I 'm not looking for an oiled up stripper boy or Mr Perfect or anything like that, but this guy, well he had less physical attractiveness than your average garden slug ... buck teeth and cross-eyes are not a good combination on anyone.
Deciding not to be shallow and judge people on appearance alone, I didn't run for the hills immediately. Well, Mr Fugly started off ok, asking me a few questions about myself. Then I noticed his eyes were glazing over as I spoke or focused on me in a lurid glare. I think he was checking out my tits, but it was hard to tell with those crossed-eyes, he might have been appraising my earlobes. Every time I tried to make conversation, he had an arrogant, dismissive comment in reply. He would smack his lubber lips together and stretch out, arms behind his head, thrusting his hips out. Oh yeah baby, that was turning me on. Oh, did I say turning me on, I meant turning my stomach.
His conversation was focussed on two things - how much money he has and how chicks only use guys for their money. Hello, see any correlation here? Do the words self-fulfilling prophesy mean anything to you?
He got onto an indignant rant about online dating services. When you chat online, someone pays. In most cases, this is the guy. He asked me if I had ever paid to use the service and I told him, no I just chatted to guys if they want to chat. Let me point out here that when I was chatting to him online, I asked if he wanted to use msn or another free chat program and he didn't want to, so the decision to pay to chat to me was all his.
He used the term 'pussy power', which charmed me right off my feet. Then he wanted to know why woman wanted to chat for so long when it was all about sex anyway. It just wastes his time and money.
The waiter came and asked if we wanted another coffee. I was pretty sure by this stage that no, I most definitely didn't want another coffee or anything else that would prolong this date. Mr Fugly had other plans though. He asked me if I wanted to stay for lunch. I told him that I didn't have time, I had a lot on that afternoon (I had already told him that I was having a dinner party and was rushing around). I told him I needed to get some shopping and cleaning done.
He wanted to know... no, not wanted, but told me quite forcefully, that having lunch he didn't understand what I was saying and having lunch wouldn't take up too much time. The warning bells in my head were deafening me by this stage. He kept almost touching me. If he had touched me I think I would have been sick.
I started yawning and he asked me a question. I thought he said "Are you yawny?" and was about to tell him, yes I was. Luckily my brain registered his exact words before I replied so I could tell him that no, I was decidedly not horny.
As I was leaving, being the polite and well-brought up girl that I am, I thanked him for meeting with me. His reply, and this was the killer, was to tell me that I had to go pay for my coffee.
This is the bit where words fail me. I mean, how could he have figured out my plan so quickly. You know, the plan where I hook up with ugly, uninteresting, sleazy, arrogant, fucking boring deadshits and scam them for $2.80 cups of coffee.
I am so angry that all I did was smile at him and go inside and pay. I wish I had smacked him in the face or, at the very least, told him that what he wanted was a hooker and he couldn't possibly have enough money to make me spread my legs for him.
I don't understand why I am always so polite to arseholes. I sit and smile sweetly and try to extract myself with as little fuss as possible. I should have left when he first started being a jerk instead of subjecting myself to this bullshit.
Think I should ring him for a second date?
* Note, although I have written in general terms about internet dating in the past I don't think it is very fair on the guys involved to get into specifics. It would be rude and unfair to meet up with guys then use that experience to mock, denigrate or use them for blogfodder. This particular guy, Mr Fugly, proved by his behaviour that he deserves no such respect and I have no qualms about writing about this experience.