Rewind to about a year ago and you would have seen me in the midst of getting my heart broken by a homeless man. While it was a very toxic relationship, I learned a lot through my experiences with him. He taught me what “Chemistry” actually meant, so in a way I’m thankful for his existence (however my credit-card still hates him).
Fast-forward to two weeks ago, and you would have seen me sitting at a bar with a CPA. I’ve come a long way since last year (or at least that’s what I thought as I downed my Old Fashioned).
Walking out of my door heading to the date, I realized my rear tire had decided to play limp dick proving utterly useless. I was forced to shoot Mr. CPA a text.
“Soooo I just walked out to my car and realized I have a flat tire.”
“Well that’s no good.” …was his response
(Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Now I’m gonna have to wake up early in the morning before work).
“Unfortunately I think I’ll have to cancel with it being so late already.”
I realized he probably thought I might be making up an excuse, so I quickly followed up with…
“Unless you trust me to not be a stalker, and are willing to pick me up?”
Mr. CPA asked for my address, and I made him swear to abstain from smothering me with Chloroform.
It was an awkward way to meet him. I hadn’t let anyone pick me up at my apartment since The Racist, and being back to my old self nowadays, I’m more concerned about my safety. As I hopped in his front seat, I sent a silent prayer up into the heavens.
“Dear Mother Earth, Please don’t let this man be a serial killer.” Quickly followed by…”if my mother knew I was doing this she would murder me herself.”
However, as he went on about his different responsibilities, and the various companies he worked for, I found myself a little intrigued by Mr. CPA.
Once seated at the bar, we began talking about various subjects…well…rather HE began talking about various subjects. He regaled me with stories of the stripper at his bachelor party, and the various women he had met off of Plenty of Freaks. Usually to keep an individual talking about themselves you have to provide certain question prompts, but not Mr. CPA…he was on a roll by himself.
As he rambled on about how Obama has failed our country, I pictured his head bobbing about on my compact dashboard, entertaining me on my way to work in the morning.
My minor was Political Science in college, so the topic of conversation certainly didn’t bore me, and I love a heated discussion, but Mr. CPA really didn’t give two hoots about what I thought regarding ISIS or our country’s economic status. My independent vote was trampled by his majority voice.
He ended up talking until the bar closed. I tell you not one question did he ask about me. Not a single one. …and when the bartender came to give us the bill (I had all of one drink) he looked at me as if I should pay for my own.
You MUST be kidding me.
Since he saw I wasn’t reaching for my bag, he quickly put down a $20 bill. He got back change and left a stingy tip for the bartender who had waited on us for three hours only serving two drinks.
Pulling through my apartment complex he continued to go on about why liberals are idiots.
“Did you know that it actually hurts the economy when the minimum wage is raised? It causes small businesses to hire less people therefore limiting the number of jobs available.”
As you can imagine, by this point I began to get annoyed.
Here’s what I wanted to say:
Yes Mr. CPA, Actually I DID know that fun fact. I took four Economic courses in undergrad, and have read books such as Naked Economics and Freakonomics. If you would have let me speak without having to talk over you, or asked me ANY questions about myself, you might have realized I have an educated viewpoint that you may or may not find interesting.
Here’s what I ACTUALLY said:
“Yep. I knew that. That’s why I consider myself financially conservative and a social liberal.”
Rather than making any comments on what I had just said, or asking any follow-up questions, he began talking about abortion.
You would think maybe by his lack of appropriate dating etiquette Mr. CPA was a newbie in the world of meet and greets, but no. I suspect he was just SUPER full of himself.
Attempting to make light of a very serious topic, I made mention of how I had never ended a date talking about dead fetuses before. …he didn’t laugh. No one gets me. ::Sigh::
I thanked Mr. CPA for the drink, and let myself out of the car. No handshake. No hug. And there was certainly no kiss.
He of course sent a follow-up text asking how I thought everything went. I was torn.
How do you tell someone that unfortunately you would rather see them as a plastic car accessory than in person?
Important Side Note: The homeless man ALWAYS opened doors for me. Money does NOT make a gentleman. Case Closed.