My Date -- That's Why I'm The Sheriff

I didn't get any booty, tonight.

Which is just as well. Regardless of how desperate I am lately, not even I give it up on the first date.

Actually, the thought of sex without love -- is a real turn off to me. I don't think I could do it. I don't really know how my friend Nina gives it up so easily. And she does. Because she more often than not, tells me all about it afterwards. I can kind of understand the intrinsic want or need for the touch of a man.... but... I don't know. The thought of doing it with someone who I have absolutely no meaningful connection to at all kind of fills me with revulsion. And as much as I like this guy, I really barely know him. And although there's part of me that wants that, and thinks he's attractive, I know me, and I know I'd regret it. So I already know going in that neither of us are getting lucky tonight.

It might have been a different story had he asked me out while I was hormonal. I probably would have torn his clothes off, if so. It's hard to say. Regardless, it wasn't meant to be. Besides, not sure if he would have been into it. The guy is nice, albeit opinionated. But he doesn't seem the type to screw around, I don't think. He comes across as a gentleman. Although it's hard to say. Most guys screw around, don't they? Hell, most of my women friends, do.

Sometimes I wish I was more like them.

Last week, I was telling my friend Nina about my date.

She cackled. "Are you going to fuck him?" She said, staring at me. Ah Nina, so classy, as always.

"I don't know!" I shot back, "I don't think so."

"You totally should, we need to get you laid." She said, flipping her long dark curly hair.

I made a face. "I don't see the point. I'd be too nervous to even like, 'get there' during, I'm sure."

She looked at me as if I was stupid. "Do you think I get off on my hookups!?" She stared incredulously. "Just finish yourself off when he facking goes to the bathroom," she practically rolled her eyes.

All my conversations with Nina go this way. As an example of the way Nina thinks-- when I went to her birthday party two weeks ago, we walked by this group of men who looked at us. She called out; "Two hundred a facking night, all roight?"

"Only two hundred?" I said. "I think we're worth more than that. At least I am-- I'm not too sure about you."

"Fuck you, D," she slurred.

"Okay, if you like. But I want at least four hundred."

She's actually already texted me tonight. Well, it's 4am now, and my date is long over. But she texted me hours ago; "R U in the bedroom? LOL does he have a big..."


...

Friends like Nina kind of make life interesting, that's for sure.

It was standard date fare; dinner and a movie. He rang me, earlier today. When I saw it, I briefly wondered if he was cancelling, but all he said was;  "I know you don't really want to watch the Avengers, But I've been hearing it's good; and 'Act of Valor' isn't on at the cinema we were going to go to. Do you want to watch that? Or something else?"

"Oh, no, we can totally watch that." I said, trying to sound  nonchalant. I don't think he'd cottoned on that I'd already seen it last week with my brother and his friend. Regardless. I have such a crush on Jeremy Renner right now, so I had no problems watching it again at all. "That sounds good," I say.

"Well, can I pick you up at about 10 past seven tonight."

I resist the urge to sign off with "It's a date!" Argh. So fucking cliche. I instead I mumbled something like; "that sounds good." Ah, fuck. I just said that twice. Oh God, I'm so retarded.

And suddenly, it just felt so real. It was really happening. I was really going out. With a guy. I was nervous.

Things don't scare me usually-- despite my insecurity; I don't get scared very easily-- but if there's one thing that really makes me nervous is dating. Especially cute guys. And even though he's not my type-- and I feel conceited saying that, I mean, 'beggars can't be choosers' and everything-- he is pretty cute, superficially speaking. He's tall. Somewhat tanned. He's a lot muscular than I usually like; I can tell he takes pride in his appearance. His hair is sandy coloured, his eyes are a dark blue. They're very piercing. That was the first thing I noticed.

He's a decent guy. He has a decent job, a decent haircut, a decent car, and decent sense of humor.

But he doesn't get my jokes. That was frustrating. I don't know if I can spend my life with someone who doesn't get my jokes. And his surname... it really doesn't go with my first name at all. So there goes marriage. Not that I'm that into marriage or anything... I actually don't like the idea of marriage at all, and even if I did get married, I like my surname.

... sorry, women jump the gun like this all the time. I don't care how feminist one is; there's always a split second where you just put your name next to a potential partner's to see how it sounds.

And he smokes. That's kind of my deal breaker. Not because I care if someone smokes or not-- after all, both Nina and my mother smoke, and I don't give them crap about it-- but I care about it in a partner. It practically helped send my Dad to an early grave. And even with my mother... I don't know, watching someone be a slave to cigarettes is kind of disheartening. I've been watching it for three decades now, and I really don't want my future to reflect that, either. It controls her.

But I firmly believe in letting people do what they fuck they want, so I'm not going to belittle him for it. I do wonder how this guy can be so vain in regards to appearance -- yet smoke cigarettes, though.

Dinner was nice; pleasant. It was a steakhouse. We had steak. It was kind of awkward. We talked about my trips. He asked me if I was afraid of the radiation when I went to Japan, I said I wasn't. I said there's more chance of getting radiation doses just going up in a plane than being in Tokyo itself. Besides, I was around Osaka, mostly. He goes on some tirade about nuclear energy, and like most people, he doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about.

I'm not a fan of nuclear energy; but not because of the radiation exposure from a meltdown-- for me it's due to the waste it generates. That's the real down side to Nuclear energy. It's not clean or renewable because of this. Not because of the potential to meltdown, which while significant, is avoidable. Of course I'm not sure how wise it was to build a crap-load of reactors on the earth's most seismically volatile country... they were kind of asking for trouble.

However, Nuclear energy really fascinates me, and always has. As a consequence, I know way more about it than the average person. I never really understood how people could be vehemently opposed to something, yet not actually read up on it or research it, at all. It's not inherently 'bad', just like coal and oil plants are not inherently 'good' either.

So he has a knee-jerk reaction to nuclear energy. Fair enough, we all do. I can accept that.

But Goddamn it, he isn't funny and he doesn't like my jokes. That part sucks.


There is a foosball table at the cinema, and a few arcade games. We decide to play foosball because we're early, and we have like 20 minutes.

I beat him.

We had our own foosball table, growing up.  I mean, I'm Italian; it's like a fucking life skill they force upon you. Calcio balilla. My citizenship would have gotten revoked had I not known how to play. I don't tell him this. I think his male competitive pride is slightly wounded because I win.

"Do you want to play something else?" he asks me, "we still have a bit of time."

I nod over to the video games in the corner; "what about Time Crisis?" I say.

"Oh sure," he says. "I'm good at this one," he grins.

I smile.

It's co-op but I manage to stay in the game, while he gets killed. He has to sit there and watch me go through at least an extra two minutes of gameplay since he runs out of lives.

"You're good at this," he says at the end.

"That's why I"m the sheriff," I say.

"What?"

I explain that when I went to Tokyo Disney, there was a shooting gallery in Westernland. I love shooting galleries; I beat my ex at the one at Castles in Coasters in Arizona. Anyway, my brother had three turns and couldn't get over 5 hits. Instead I had two tries-- I got 7/10 on the first one, then 10/10 on the second go. You give a slip to the lady. "Yatta!" She said, stamping it, and handing me a plastic sheriff's badge with Donald Duck on it. I fucking love Donald Duck. To say I was happy was an understatement-- I consider that plastic badge and the slip of paper one of my life's achievements fulfilled.

Okay, that's really kind of sad.

But simple pleasures and things of that nature kind of make me giddily happy for some reason. I can't really explain why. That stupid badge is one of my prize possessions. 

I briefly wonder if I should have lost on purpose. Guys don't like girls who are better than them, or smarter than them, do they? It threatens their male ego. I quickly decide I don't give a shit though. If he is threatened by me being awesome, then he sucks balls.

I can't help being awesome.

We watch the movie; he liked it. That's good. He's the kind of guy who glances towards you during the movie, occasionally. I wondered if it was because he liked me, or if he was checking if I was still there. Meanwhile I was thinking; 'you're missing the best part, asshole! This movie fucking rocks.'

Sigh. 

He isn't funny. But he's cute.

But he's not funny.

"Pretty sure Hulk can beat Thor, though," he's telling me.

Oh Jesus no. This isn't happening; there's no way I'm going to get into a debate about how Thor is a God and Hulk is just a dude with altered DNA. There's no way I'm going to go on about how Thor has powers; the ability to summon lightning from thousands of worlds, fly, that he's practically invulnerable, that the consensus is Stan Lee intended him to be the most powerful superhero in the Marvel universe, that they overpower the Hulk in the modern universe and constantly under-power Thor-- that although Hulk has beaten Thor in matchups occasionally, the opposite has been true too. That they will probably never resolve who really is stronger, although there's a strong bias towards the Hulk, technically, on paper-- it should always be Thor, as long as Thor has Mjolnir.

He looks at me awkwardly.

Fuck. Why do I gotta alienate everyone I even remotely like?

Sometimes... I wish I wasn't me.

"Can I walk you to the door?" He says.

"I don't have keys for the door." I say.

"How are you getting in?" He asks.

"I have the garage remote."

"Oh. Can I walk you to the garage then?"

"Sure, but it's just here."

.... Goddamn it, I'm so stupid sometimes.

"I had a good time," he says, smiling at me. He has perfect teeth. It pisses me off slightly. I idly think that he must have had braces when he was young. 

I smile. I fucking hate my smile. I look like a goof. Damn my crippling self-esteem issues.

He leans in slightly. My heart leaps into my chest. There's no way, I think. There's no way he's going in for the lips on the first date. Nobody is that fucking suave.

He doesn't. He kisses me on the cheek. "I'll call you," he says.

I color immediately. "Yeah, that sounds good," I laugh nervously.

"Well... see you," he says.

"Bye,"

And he's gone.

He's gone, and I'm here, my heart racing a mile-a-minute, unable to sleep-- wanting to pour my heart out onto the page. Sometimes I hate feeling as deeply as I do; certainly it's extremely alienating, I think. Anyone I remotely like, I wind up alienating.

.... for the second time, I kind of wish I wasn't me.