Date # 3: The Metrosexual Gaysian
His line to me was ‘Your hair is so fucking cute! When are you going to ask me out?!’
I admit. I find bizarre crap like this charming. That’s what got me to accept, and give him my personal email address.
Big mistake.
What first tipped me off about this not working is that when I told him I was going to Paris, he demanded I pick him up a pair of purple Lanvin shoes. Clearly he was semi-joking, but from that point I could tell he was high maintenance. He followed that up with sending me a link to a man-purse he recently purchased.
At first he seemed nice, but then he grew more teen girl-like by the minute. And this was a 30-something dermatologist. Against my better judgment, I met up with him anyway.
We went to the Clover Club. It was cute. I busted his balls about drinking girly drinks. I honestly don’t remember what he got, but it was some fruity rum thing, with frou-frou crap sticking out of it. The bartender did not find me amusing. I thought about giving her a lame tip, but as usual, I couldn’t.
Stupid empathy.
After an exhausting conversation in which he felt the need to touch me and make many sexual innuendos, he finally spoke to me like a real person. Which was nice. But the fact that he obviously thought I was going to put out really turned me off. So I walked him to Jay st., which made me nervous, since my ex lives around there. I have no ill feelings towards said ex. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings in any way with a chance run in while on a date with Shrieky Mc-Girlpants.
This guy tried to force me to kiss him, which I didn’t respond to. So he said to me:
“You’re not a good kisser, are you?’
Way to score one buddy.
Every now and then, this guys still pops up in my gchat, screaming “Hey!” I can just hear his shrill, girlish squeal.
And that’s usually it.
Weird.
