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GayDate

May 21, 2010

Rainbow Bar Via: Fuzuoko/Flickr

Here follows the story of my worst date ever. Out of all the worst dates I have had, this certainly took the cake. I felt I needed to include it in the Darcy diaries.

Once upon a time, I was logging on to JDate to take my profile down. After an attempt to re-try the world of on-line dating, I had decided to un-try it. I was de-friending JDate. As I am logged on to take my profile down I get an instant message from Philip. Philip was 36. Single. Tall. I accepted his “instant message”.

After a brief chat, and quick display of a massive red flag:
“I am actually divorced. I was married for 5 years.” (even though he is listed as being single)
I agree to go out with him. The red flag, by the way, is not that he was divorced, but that he was lying in his profile. Apparently telling the truth is a moral that didn’t apply to him.

He suggested we meet for a drink at a spot right by his office. And by spot, I mean a gay bar. I walked past the gay pride flag on the door. ‘How very metrosexual of him’, I thought.  I stood by the bar which was filled with gay couples. Gay men. There were piles of free gay magazines at the end of the bar and I was quite possibly the only woman in there. The bar tender kept leaving his station at the bar.
“Can I get you anything? A drink? Some water?” A mirror so you see you are a woman and don’t belong here?
“I’m fine. Thanks.” I text my friend : “I am on a JDate in a gay bar. I am on a GayDate.”

Just then my date shows up. He looks like his picture but I immediately knew he wasn’t my type. He just seemed uptight and I was obsessed with the idea of how such an uptight guy picked such a gay bar.  He suggests we go sit in the back room. The back room had blasting music and must have doubled as a gay disco. There was even some type of stage/catwalk.

We sit across from each other and had to practically scream over “Man-Eater” blasting over the speakers.
“This is so weird” He says. I thought he was going to say it was weird we were meeting in a gay bar. “I have never been out with someone my age before.”
I am not his age. I am actually 3 years younger than he is.
“What do you mean?” I ask. Genuinely confused.
“I don’t know. It’s weird. You are like a peer. You will get all my references. You are my age!”
I nod.
“My ex-wife was 4 years younger than I was.” He says. I am still nodding.  “My ex girlfriend was 22. I dated her for 3 years.” Nodding to myself, to the little voice in my head screaming ‘isn’t this guy an ass?’ I nod.
“You were married for 5 years? You never had children?” I ask.
“No. I didn’t want to have them with my wife.”
“Oh. You saw signs of trouble?”
“No. I just didn’t want to have them with her. I don’t know. I wasn’t into it.” He said this with about as much sensitivity as Steve Martin’s character as the sadist dentist in Little Shop of Horrors.
“She is re-married now and has a baby. ” Thank goodness she got out I think to myself.
“Are you two still friends?” I ask.
“No. She wants nothing to do with me.” He admits. I can’t imagine why.

“Do you come here often?” I ask. Code, for “Are you gay?”
“No, I have been here only a few times.”
“I thought it was a little funny you picked a gay bar.”
“This isn’t a gay bar!” He insists. I glance around only to see two gay couples making out next to us and our male waiter in some type of hot pant shorts.
“Look at the gay pride flag on the wall. And the Stack of Next magazines on that table. This is a gay bar.”
“It is???” He is still not convinced. Philip could be the most oblivious man I have ever met.  The scantily clad man dancing to It’s Raining Men was not enough evidence. He takes a walk around the restaurant looking for clues. A real Sherlock Holmes, I think to myself.
“Oh my Gd! You’re right. It is a gay bar!” He says. I think about how often I will be frequenting this place, as I have decided to go gay after this date.

Philip sits back down with me. “This is a lot of firsts for me. First time in a gay bar (yeah right), first time going out with a woman who I knew had a child, and the first time dating someone my age.” I hate Philip. I want to beat him, but it might be seen as gay bashing, since we are in a gay bar and I really wasn’t up for jail.
“You are like a cougar.” Philip says.
“What do you mean?” I ask. Suddenly jail didn’t seem that bad of a place.
“A cougar. You are like a cougar.” He says over and over again. I am confused as he is 3 years OLDER than me. I wonder if Philip has age dysmorphia.
“You are older than me! How does that make me a cougar?” I ask. If by cougar he means a wild animal that is about to claw his eyes out, yes. I am a cougar. I am a friggin’ cougar you idiot. ROARRRRRRR.
“I don’t know. You are a grown up. I guess you are just more responsible than me, with a child and everything.”
And you are an imbecile, I think.

After I sit through a brief dissertation on Philips rise through the investment banking ranks from Associate to Managing Director and I am done gagging, I decide to wrap this evening up like a tight little present.
“Well, I have a dinner and I really need to run. (Right this second).” I don’t even remember how we made it out of there, other than I was grateful to be heading home.

“I bet you have a hot date now.” He said on our way out.
“Yea, I do.” I want him to vanish.
“I bet you have a date with a young guy so you can really cougar it up.”
I want to say ‘Actually, I have a date with a straight man, so i can really heterosexual it up.’ But i keep it all inside. I am actually heading home so I can plan my coming out party. One for the books, I think, at least, one for Darcy Dates!

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