Elena said in her profile she was 5'6. I doubted that because in one of her photos, with three other women, she was towering over them. They were either dwarfs or she was an Amazon. As I expected, she was definitely not 5'6. I estimated her height to be at least 5'8, perhaps 5'9. My 5'10 was just barely taller than her. Was she really 37 as she said she was in her profile? Questionable. One of the questions she asked me was whether I would like to have children. I said yes. And she said, "I'm not for you. I'm too old to have children." I told her it wasn't a requirement, which is the truth, but I felt like saying, "You're right. You're the oldest looking 37 year old I've ever seen. Probably passed menopause at least ten years ago." (To be fair to her, she was a very good looking women with an exquisite body, whatever her real age was. She could've been a slightly encrusted 37 year old. It wasn't clear.)
I drove out to Burlington in the middle of the day to see this women in a Thai restaurant. We could have had coffee, but that's really not acceptable at noon, so I opted to buy her lunch. She did not even offer a handshake when I met her. I wanted to shake her hand but the vibe just wasn't there so I didn't force it. Towards the end of our date, if she wanted to leave I wish she could of said she had to go, not given me this, "I think they want us to leave to free up tables" bullshit. I find this sort of thing very insulting. She never thanked me for lunch, and gave me that fuck-you business-like goodbye handshake. I despise that. I didn't even ask her for a hug as I usually do, and just extended my arms. I'm not a violent person, and I don't own a gun, but if I were and had she not given me the hug, I would have held her at gun point until she did. I would have let her go after that. I just expect a little common fucking courtesy. Maybe a little thank you for the meal after dragging my ass to her neck of the woods in the middle of the day. That is all I ask. I paid for that date in more than money. I have IBS. I had to ram Glycerin Suppositories up my ass since 8:30 a.m. in order to clear my bowels so I would not have a problem. Do you have any idea how much I hate having things rammed up my ass?
On dates, women have a mental tipping point where you are officially written off. Everything said beyond that point is mere formality. I can always detect this mental shift because their body language or tone, either consciously or unconsciously makes this evident.
I've determined that this mental tipping point almost always occurs with either one of three questions, which are:
1.) So what do you do for fun?
2.) Have you traveled? (Since I haven't traveled much. This question is invariable followed by...)
3.) Why haven't you traveled?
The real answer to question 1 is that "fun" -- or what they're really trying to get at, which is recreational activities, is a luxury for people who have time and have money and aren't too completely freaked out by anxiety to have fun. If I feel the woman might have a sense of humor, sometimes I say that I'm frequently asked this question, don't have an answer, but am investigating how I might fabricate an answer to a fun activity so obscure that no one would be able to probe me about. Most of the women I think might have a sense of humor actually don't.
Elena didn't ask me question 1, but she did ask me questions 2 and 3. I don't try to dodge these questions, though I felt so defeated by Elena's reaction that I didn't even elaborate on the extent of my travels within the US. I knew it didn't matter. She was one of those assholes who has the money and time and luxury to travel and cannot understand how a person doesn't do this. It doesn't register in their minds that some people might want to do this but are not privileged enough to do this. These people may have lived in exotic lands but I can assure you that they have not learned half as much as I know about life from living in mental institutions, homeless shelters and ghettos. These cocksuckers are going to go to the grave thinking how better they are to me, but the fact is that they're petty and narrow-minded, and why is it so surprising that they're so single and alone?
I violated my no feeding-women-on-the-first-date-rule that I recently instituted with Elena. Why should I dip into my saving to feed these assholes who judge me? And if I get any more of these three show-stopping questions, I'm going to throw it right back at them. I'm going to give them my deal-breaking question, which is "Do you like the Sopranos?" Maybe I'll even ask them if they like Dostoevsky or some other difficult-to-read literature. You want to play holier-than-thou games with me? I say Bring it On! I hate being judged. It makes me very angry. They're not better than me; they just think they are.
And when I start to sense that these assholes are squirming in their seats and want to leave, I will say something like, "I am a slow eater. If you want to leave I understand." There will be no more hugs for them. And I will draw my hand out so fast to give them the have-a-nice-life handshake that they're not even going to know what hit them. I'm going to beat them to the draw. I'm going to cheat! I'm going to extend my hand to them prior to even getting up. Fuck those assholes. I don't care if I'm rude to them. They show rudeness to me by not properly reading my annual income on my profile before meeting me. Most of these women do not read my profile as evidenced by the fact that they ask me questions that are already answered in the profile. Often they ask me things I've already answered during the meeting. They are not listening to me. They're probing me. I'm tired of this shit. These bloodsuckers are making me very upset and depressed.
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