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Interpret This

August 12, 2010

I should have known my first date with Devon would be, well, interesting? Devon was super hot, tall, and wore Vans. He was from California and had a little bit of a hippy dippy doo quality I wasn’t quite used to. On our first phone conversation he asked if I wanted to go watch interpretive dance.
“You up for that?”
Dead Silence. I actually heard my hair growing from the root.

Here is the thing, the fact that you wanted to take me to see interpretive dance on our first date makes you not my type. I just can’t. I love dancing. LOVE. I’d go as far as saying I found MTV’s “Dance Life” to be a real tear jerker of sorts. That being said, if you took me to see interpretive dance, I would be hysterically laughing the entire time, possibly even getting myself kicked out. If you were into it, I know this is wrong, but I’d think you were weird, which I am sure makes me a terrible person. I may in fact do my own interpretive dance and run away from you.

We met for our date and it was 112 degrees. Well almost. I saw Devon approaching and he was tall. Yes! We chose a table outside.

“Wow. It is super hot out!” I said, feeling for Devon who was wearing jeans which made me extra hot.
“I am a positive person. I am staying positive about the weather.”
“Ah, I am a jaded new yorker. We love to complain about the weather.”

Devon must have told me about 20 times in the first four minutes about his super positive attitude. It’s as though I was on a date with Tony Robbins. I was expecting him to whip out hot coals at any moment and have me run over them with him.
“You can do it Darcy!” He would scream as I scolded my feet on the burning embers. “You can do anything you put your mind to!”
“But they are burning me!” I would screech.
“Mind over matter Darcy!!!!!” He would say as he dragged me along.

“I smile and laugh all the time.” He said, with a creeptastic smile.
I wonder who says that actual sentence, unless you are one of the Wiggles, and even the Wiggles are a bit creepy no? I waited for him to bust out singing “fruit salad, yummy yummy” (if you don’t have children, you can skip that reference. It is made for people who had to sit through countless hours of those creepy men dancing and singing a song about fruit salad.)
You are also on mood elevators. Lots of them. I think this to myself. There is absolutely nothing wrong with mood elevators by the way. I support you 100% if you need them. My concern for Devon however is that he was on too many of them.

Devon then offered up my favorite quote of the evening. It is so good it should be framed on people’s bathroom walls , similar to “Footprints”.
“Sometimes I am jealous of the gay man’s lifestyle. With all the drugs and the sex.”
I stared at him like a donkey’s head just popped out of his chest. WHAT THE HELL! WHO SAYS THAT? I wondered why Devon couldn’t keep this to himself. Just a tip guys: if you think that, don’t say it. At least to me. On our first date. I will think you are a gay drug addict. Just saying.

I look at Devon and see something peeking out from his neckline. Ah, of course. Devon is wearing my dear old favorite…man-jewelry (See, Cinco De Mayo, May 6th, 2010). This particular man jewelry was very large and cumbersome. A heavy chain of sorts. I wondered how this doesn’t hurt Devon’s back having to roam around with that all day. My next thought is there was a gas station somewhere missing their key chain. It was that big. There was absolutely no way Devon could make it through airport security with that thing. It definitely doubled as a nun-chuck.

After a quick drink I wrapped up the date as quickly as possible. Devon asked me out for the following Tuesday and I said…yes? UGH. It was so awkward I had to. DAMMIT DARCY. Now I would have to spend countless hours trying to figure out how to get out of that. WHY DARCY? I find dating to be entirely about getting out of things. It’s just more commitments to break.

Devon insisted on walking me home.
“You can just walk me up an avenue and I will hop in a cab.”
Devon spent the walk trying to cop a feel of my body.
“You have a really tight little body” he said, as he smiled his creepy mood elevator smile.
“Thank you.”

The next day Devon texted me that I should “have a great weekend and to keep smiling, laughing and frolicking”
FROLICKING? I almost died on the spot. As I read the text  I glanced around hoping, for the sake of watching Bear grow up, someone nearby had a defibrillator so they could revive me back to life. I am not much of a frolicker, not that I even know what that means, but I’d prefer a man who doesn’t know what frolick means either. Devon and I were certainly no match made in heaven, but I didn’t think this will bother him one bit as he was loaded to the hilt on happy pills.

After our date Devon would text me things like :

“How are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu”.
“Enjooooooyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy your day.”
“Seeeeeeeeee you soon.” Really? Really? Who writes like that?  Deeevvvvvvvvvvvooooooon does.

A week after our first date, and countless dodges and cancellations on my part I receive a serious text from Devon.
“Can I tell you something very honest?”
“Yes?” I write back. UGH. What can this be? I run through the scenarios in my head. “I am bi.”, “I am an ecstasy addict” (which would explain the constant smiling, laughing and frolicking). I waited for the response with bated breath.
“Before I left California I started dating this girl. She is coming to stay with me for a week and I feel funny about it because i am really diggin on you (yea, he used that exact term), and I don’t want it to mess things up because I like you alllllooooooottttt.”

Seriously??? Sometimes I wonder if Verizon is really Candid Camera.

“Oh Devon! Don’t be silly. We only went out once (and I was plotting my escape the entire time). Please. Enjoy the visit. Have the best time!”
“I knew you would say that. You are the coolest chick I have ever met. It makes me like you more. You and I are a perfect match.”

Yippee. Now I am somehow in a relationship with a guy I never wanted to see again, who has a girlfriend. Go Darcy! Rock. On.

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