• The seemingly bohemian alt industrial-music dj was still enough of a “nice jewish girl” that she insisted our first meeting be a dinner with her mother at an Italian chain restaurant in the Valley.
• I am pretty good at not going out on dates unless I am fairly certain that I have picked someone I am at least a little compatible with, but at one point, I ended up going out with a girl to a cafe, where she had secretly invited her friends, who, it turns out, were mostly just AA buddies, and the next thing I knew, I was at an AA meeting.
I don’t really drink much, and I don’t really have a problem with it, and I didn’t really know the girl very well, and I didn’t want to be there.
While I am sure it was great for her, it was just not where I expected to be on a first date.
The Super-Speed Dater • We were supposed to meet at a coffee shop at 3pm. He asked me what I do creatively and I told him (succinctly) that I obsessively document everything.
He was ten minutes late, which in and of itself wouldn’t have been a problem. He snorted dismissively and said “Don’t you think that’s a little self- absorbed? You think there’s a chance I’ve never heard of Wes Anderson?
The Strange • After we had sex, she told a story about her marine biology internship and about a pack of manatees they once found in the water off Key West.
• A young woman and I got along pretty well in the bar where we’d agreed to meet, but things went downhill when we decided to get dinner at a nearby restaurant.
But the manatee was actually dead, and the body ended up falling apart and she was covered in dead manatee slime and someone had to fish her out and clean her up.
After some words of consolation from me about how fucked up that experience must have been, she told me she made it up, and every other story she had told me that night, because she likes making up stories.
Our server brought us a bread basket that my date grabbed three of four rolls from and then started playing weird games with.
Like, she would scoop dough out of a roll, pound it into a little ball, and then put it back in the basket! Did you ever see that movie ‘Conspirators of Pleasure,’ with the woman who fetishizes bread and snorts dough balls?