Go ahead, you can touch it if you want. (December 2009)

Maybe I’m being way too kind by giving men “the benefit of the doubt”. Chances are if I’m getting a weird vibe from them on the first date, it’s because they are weird. Also, I might need to stop dating Texans. Neither her nor there. So date one with Texas Meathead took us to the local sushi joint with a bar in the basement. Drinks were $5. I had two. Guess who paid? I did. Strike one. I also had to walk to my car alone that night. Strike two. But I was flattered when he texted the next morning, so I agreed to a second date. *Note: I had a bad vibe from the start of date 1. Ladies, trust your instincts.* For our second date he suggested Mexican food and margs. Perfect, I’m on a mission to find Denver’s best marg. He suggested Lime in hip and happening Larimer Square. Apparently on Friday nights this restaurant should be called “Club Lime”. Really Lime, techo and house music at 8pm while people are eating? Come on, you’re better than that! Or maybe not. So at some point early in the evening I was asked by Texas Meathead how many times that day I had worked out. It was Friday, I was tired. I did not get up early to go to the gym. I worked all day. I said zero. You would have thought I said I kick puppies for fun with the look I got. You see, he’d been to the gym three times that day. He proceeded to flex his bicep to prove it. He also said “go ahead, you can touch it if you want to.” I didn’t want to touch it. I wanted to vomit in his general direction. Then when our food came (which was a piss poor excuse for Tex-Mex, at best. I seriously think I’ve had better food at Taco Bell. But I digress…) Texas Meathead was so focused on shoveling food in his mouth that I’m pretty sure he didn’t take a single breath for 5 minutes. That’s how long it too him to eat his food. 5 minutes. On a date. I thought maybe I was confused and that he had entered us in a speed eating contest. I half expected him to slam his marg then beat his chest while proclaiming “Meathead full”, followed by a belch. So at this point Texas Meathead goes to the bathroom and I strike up a conversation with a nice gentleman at the bar. Texas Meathead didn’t like that one bit because before I knew what was happening he told me to get my coat, stormed out of “Club Lime”, and marched through Larimer Square. At this point I decided he was ridiculous, so I stopped walking. I was left on a street corner with my mouth hanging open as he stormed off in the general direction of his car. Date over! At least he paid for the crap food and horrible margs!

If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.