I Hate Men

The title may seem blunt, yes, but honestly....I was listening to "Kiss Me Kate". Yes, I'm the uber musical theater nerd and yes....that song speaks to me at this particular time in my quarterlife.

So, I went out on a date last week. This is a rare enough occasion that I would feel the need to blog about it anyway...but given the way things ended up with this gentleman (sarcasm intentional) I definitely would deem the entire fiasco as blogworthy.

I met him at the candy store....He turned around at smiled at me. You get the picture?

Okay, that's not at all true. But "Leader Of The Pack" remains an amazing song. In actuality, I met him on the subway. I know what you're thinking......"that's SHADY." Well, screw you. I think it's kind of romantic. It's a freaking New York fairytale and those NEVER happen to me. And it may have ended up a fractured fairy tale but still: I met someone attractive on the subway. I am therefore awesome.

Also, it was the N train which is probably the least shady subway line. It's clean, and it's often filled with very attractive people like myself. We started talking because a) the N train often likes to stop for long periods of time between stations and b) He was reading a book that I love. I will refrain from mentioning its title, because it actually is a book that brings back a whole lot of memories for me about an earlier failed romance and therefore I should probably have taken that as a sign. But instead, I bit the bullet and struck up a conversation with this charming stranger about the book which was making him laugh uproariously, which was the same effect it had over me. We talked about the book, I detected a slight drawl which led to questions about his origins, we had a cute and flirty convo and then he gave me his business card before he got off the train. I in turn, gave him my information because I am not a real adult and don't have a business card.

He emailed me about 45 minutes after I got home, which of course set off the "DESPERATE!" alarm in my head. But I ignored this, because I was trying to be optimistic for once in in my life. He was interested in hanging out over the weekend- I told him I'd be in Fire Island. The only night I was really free was the following evening. We made plans to meet up in Astoria. He let me choose the place, as he "didn't eat out very often". Yeah, yeah, my dirty mind went there too.

I chose a place I had been to before and really liked, although it's a little on the expensive side. Actually, I had been there on a date and because I have no tact in the slightest, I texted the person I went on the date with for the address of the restaurant. I mean, c'mon Chelsea, isn't that what Google is for? I'm awesome.

So we go on the date. And it's nice. I don't feel HUGE amounts of chemistry but he's nice and flirty and polite in that Southern way. He's a freelance graphic designer which I find refreshing because it's not related to theater. His favorite movies are a little generic (I'm sorry, I love "Pulp Fiction" but it's EVERYONE'S favorite movie) and his taste in music kind of horrifies me (Phish? Really?) but he's cute so I forgive these things. I can't help but feel that he doesn't talk a whole lot about himself. Every question I ask him he seems to deflect back to me. I do manage to learn that he doesn't drink (Ironic, since his name is the name of a very famous whiskey) because his dad was an alcoholic, he has a younger sister and he's been in New York for three years. I ask about his apartment. He says he's been in the same 1 bedroom since he got here.
"You've never needed roommates?" I ask, thinking "This guy must do pretty well for himself."
"Well uh....actually.....I lived with someone until about six months ago."
He doesn't seem to want to talk about his ex-live in girlfriend but I decide to pry because I am nosy. He tells me that they dated for five years and that they were actually engaged for a year. She now lives back in Atlanta.

I admit that the "I was engaged until six months ago" thing probably should have made me decide then and there to NOT be Shaquille O'Neal and NOT grab that rebound. But as I stated before, I am dumb. So after a nice walk home and some nice kissing, I decided I would see the feller again.

We go out two nights later (I actually go to Fire Island a day LATER for him.) We see "Drag Me To Hell" which I'd already seen. He likes the movie and laughs in the right parts, leading me to believe that we are perhaps compatible. Post-movie, we talk about Sam Raimi and launch into a comparison between DMTH and Evil Dead. I say it makes me want to watch Evil Dead again. He says he owns it. I go back to his place.

And here's where things began their steady decline. For as soon as we walk into his apartment, we are greeted with a giant Yearbook style portrait of a young girl holding a rose. Remember those lame graduation pictures where you wear some lame blue drape and hold a rose over your shoulder? There were many sizes you could order of that picture, including a HUGE portrait. I know because my parents ordered that size and I refused to allow them to hang it up because I found it unbelievably creepy. It made me feel like I was Laura Palmer and the portrait was a loving tribute to my life that was cut short far too soon. I was a morbid teenager.

Nonetheless, this was the portrait that stared me in the face as I walked into the apartment. The girl was brunette (like my date) and had insanely white teeth (also like my date.) I think this is what led me to ask the next fatal question. "Aww...is that your little sister?"

Mind you, as soon as I uttered this, I DEEPLY regretted it. I already knew the answer. Of course it wasn't his sister. It was his ex. There was a huge, HIGH SCHOOL portrait of his ex staring at me. He confirmed my fears and there was a really awkward pause. Until I decided to dig my grave a little deeper. I ask how old the ex is. She's 23. He's 32. That's totally fine, and trust me, as a girl who tends to go for older guys I have NO judgements regarding age difference. But one thing plagued me..
"And you've been going out for...five years?" They had indeed. Which would have made her EIGHTEEN when they started dating. He confirmed that they started dating the summer after she graduated. WHICH EXPLAINS THE FREAKING PICTURE. She probably gave it to him when they first started going out. And then hung it in their shared home.
Seriously, men: When asking a girl back to your place for possible nookie do NOT have a giant portrait of your ex waiting to greet her. It tends to kill the mood.

It only gets worse from there, but as this is already a pretty long blog I will post Part 2 sometime soon. If anyone even reads this.