This post is dedicated to any woman who thought she was being too picky, said no too quickly or even said these dreaded “may as well” when going out with someone she should have ignored and deleted. It’s going to be a long one, so grab your coffee and take a seat.
On the surface, this one hangover seemed like a pretty decent catch. He’s educated, is a homeowner, and has been pretty successful in a career as a social worker for over ten years. The bonus was that he decided not to operate as if he was a sperm bank and only had one child of wedlock. The man mentioned something about having goals, travel plans, and more and if I played my cards right, likely would have wined and dined me, sparing no expense. There is hope after all if what I told myself. Yet at the same time, I believe this same man would have BEAT the living daylights out of me if I told a joke that he didn’t find funny, wore something he disliked, refused to pop a woman in the head with a bottle and most certainly, I would have been strangled if I dare question anything about his manhood. In all of my dating experiences, I don’t think I have ever, ever, ever witnessed a person showing their raging maniac temper on a date (the first date, no less) and showing NO remorse. Not ever.
In fact, towards the end of the Nightmare in Temecula he’s telling me how well the date went, adding that the two of us would make a power couple. He had his ego so far up his ass that he hadn’t noticed my angst. While his visions of us running through the lilies hand in hand, I had visions of him slapping the hell out of me, sending me flying over the hood of my car. It was painfully obvious that he was talking about a different date, night and person. Allow me to introduce what I have managed to dodge, a man named Bullet. Although he wasn’t necessarily desirable in terms of location living in the Inland Empire but just as I explained above – he had his shit together. Just like the others who graduated from in-box chats to the number exchange, Bullet did all of the right things in the beginning and opened up the lines of communication with catchy, well written messages showing just the right amount of interest that weren’t too desperate and soon after he messaged, we graduated to step 3 of the online dating game, the telephone conversation.
You might be wondering if he was really good looking and the answer is no, even though he bragged about people saying he looked like Edris Elba. Maybe at night, after a drink or two and a missing contact lens. Not horrible, but decent enough and so it began but about thirty minutes into the conversation, I started learning about the type of guy he really was and man- why or why do we always ignore that first instinct? Likely because the person we’re picking up the bad vibe from is good at running game and will tell you “it was just a joke” or “don’t be so serious”, making you feel like there’s just a big misunderstanding. First conversations usually include topics such as asking what a person does for a living, length of single hood, favorite sports team or when the first meeting will be, right? Ours had a few others that I wasn’t really used to but I took them for what they were worth, immediately being made aware of Bullet’s “intense phobia of fat women”. He asked no less than five times if the person in my photos were really me, and added his last couple of dates ended in disaster when he met women who were “two cheeseburgers from floating” or “wheezed when wobbling.” He’s serious about weight which is cool, I feel the same about teeth.
It’s true when they say you can take a person out of the ghetto but you can’t take the ghetto out of a person. This guy is proud about living in Temecula, but at times would say things as if he was on 54th and Vernon in South Central LA. So out of curiosity I asked where he was originally from and when he replied “Why, I sound like I’m from somewhere other than out here” I knew he was a hood transplant. Before I could say anything else he suddenly started yelling “No, you greedy ass now get the hell out of here!”. Seconds later, he calmly returns to the discussion as if nothing had ever happened. Bullet seemed to go from 0 to 60 in five seconds flat but I brushed of that incident as annoyance after a long day.
So on to the second instance of his questionable behavior which happens to be Saturday, and an early morning talk between the two of us goes pretty well. Bullet was in a pretty jovial mood and commented how much he really wanted to meet me and he just knew we would hit it off. There WERE quite a few things we had in common, so it was a no brainer when he asked if I wanted to go to a comedy show later that night. But then things got interesting when we chatted about the meet up. Control freak.
The plan was for Bullet to contact me later that afternoon to solidify the plans, but instead I didn’t hear back from him until about 7:30pm. Sure, I could have called Bullet earlier to see what was up, but if someone tells you they’ll be busy working, it is to be understood that they’ll be busy working. With that in mind, getting a phone call at that time and confirming plans at 8pm for a show that starts at 10pm, factoring in a 50 minute drive was cutting it close. When I commented to him that I may be a little late he quickly replied “Late? Why would you be late? It takes you that long to get ready or do you drive that slow?” There was a bit of silence at first and I quickly fired back “No smart ass, neither but I’m not sure what part of the area you think I live in, but I’m closer to the beach”. Bullet starts laughing and says “Damn baby, I’m just joking – stop being so serious. Do what you need to do, text me as soon as you leave the house and I’ll see you in a bit.”
You can be completely turned off by how someone behaves in public. I’m sure I broke the speed limits to get there on time but I made it only to meet up with this man who walked up to me like he was 6’5, with tons of muscles and balls the size of door knobs. He’s smoothing his hair down and starts licking his lips like I was the two-piece special from KFC. Really dude? Not only was his thirsty behavior killing me I was pissed that his photo “enhancements” were more on the side of deceiving. He did NOT have an average build (weighed no more than 110 wet), he was not 5’10 (probably 5’7), and those lips did NOT look so succulent (more like tar in color). Bullet wasn’t a Critter, but went overboard with Photoshop. Lastly, his pimp walk was out of control and I could tell he did that the type of person who liked being the center of attention.
Setting aside his animated antics, he was still acting like a gentleman by complimenting me, opening doors, pulled out chairs and allowed me to order first when the waitress arrived. As we sat waiting for the first comic to come up, the clouds, thunder and lightning started suddenly began moving towards the comedy club. All I can say is poor waitress. Apparently when Bullet barked his order to her over the loudness of the club, she missed a crucial part of his request because when she brought out his beer BEFORE his food, he lost his mind.
All I heard was something about warm beer and the waitress apologized again and again while trying to leave, he yelled for her to take it away and bring another when the food is ready. If only I could click my heels and disappear to Kansas but instead, my eyes just told the poor girl I was sorry for him being an asshole. Seeing anyone treat a server like that is ridiculous and when he leaned over to gain my support, whispering and introducing me to breath that smelled a little like my gym shoes, I just shook my head. Bullet asked if I heard when he asked for the drink and meal at the same time, I said no and joked “Easy killer” and he joked back “I wasn’t mad at her; I was just giving her a hard time – stop being so serious.”
Alright, so comedy the show is absolutely fabulous and Bullet’s personality remains in “friendly” mode. We joked around a little bit and when he said he knew of a nice spot nearby with good drinks and music, I reluctantly agreed to go. I wasn’t dressed for a nightclub but alcohol at the end of a date like this sounded good to me, especially because I already knew that there would never ever be another with him. Several minutes later, we arrive at some place and this is where things really got interesting, and soon I realized all that I ever needed to know or wanted to know about this nut. You should not mouth off around someone with anger management issues.
In a matter of about twenty minutes, the question of where he was originally from was answered with “the hood” and I also learned how much he hated had Mexicans. I mean really dude – we ARE in California, so I’m not sure why you were so surprised that a nightclub in one of the areas with the highest population of “those suckers” was so shocking. Knowing how Bullet feels about our surrounding explains his behavior when this one guy in a wheelchair who obviously should have backed away from the bar hours ago, kept circling in the middle of us while he was dancing. He was inching closer and closer out of his chamber and when wheelchair dancer either accidentally or drunkenly got a little too close, I saw Bullet’s handle begin to cock so I quickly pulled him away towards the bar.
I’ll mention again that I was dressed for a comedy club and not a nightclub, so after a while I told Bullet that it was too hot inside. He turns to me and says “No one told you to wear all of that hot shit; you knew you were coming out here so I don’t know what you were thinking.” My jaw dropped to the floor and I guess the expression on my face was pretty bad because he starts laughing and says “Damn girl, I’m just joking – stop being so serious all the time.” I am beside myself, outside myself and ready to turn into someone other than myself and several scenes from “What’s Love Got To Do With It” played out in my head, especially the part when Ike kept telling Anna Mae to eat the cake before shoving it in her face.
Before I could tell him to shove his “jokes” up his ass and bounce out the door, this (drunk) chick comes strolling by and ends up elbowing him in the back while trying to get through the crowded walk way. Oh-My- God. I think my brain was trying to process my escape strategy out of this club when Bullet’s face changes, that forehead crease turns into a fold and he whips around and shoves her. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he yells at her saying “What the fu@k is wrong with you; you can’t just elbow people in the back like that. You fu@king crazy??” In a matter of seconds her face went from shock (what the hell, did I just get shoved), to disgust (no he did not just talk to me like that), to fear (oh wow, he’s nuts). She stuttered an apology and Bullet fired back repeating the question, telling her to apologize again and added that she needs to be more respectful. All I could think of was how long it would take for the woman’s boyfriend, brother or friend to come over there with a chair, bottle or knife and that would be the end of Carmen. When I say I exited stage left, I mean I EXITED stage left. I can’t even remember how I got out of there so fast, but all I know is that Bullet was behind me asking me to slow down wondering why I was upset.
As funny as this may sound, the man REALLY believed that the woman had done the elbow move on purpose because he 2 as black. Anything else he was saying is a blur because I was in escape mode, fumbling for my keys while walking. He’s still talking and then asks if I agreed that the night had gone well and when I laughed, said no and walked even faster, asked what was my problem. “That situation could have been handled differently and you should not put hands on a woman like that”. This clown just sucked his teeth and said the types of women he’s dealt with would have thought his actions were right in line. Bullet professed how he needed a ride or die chick; the type of woman would have backed him up, had his back, realized he was a “real” man, and probably even offered to beat the chick up. Sorry boo, but I’m not that woman and while you think it’s been a great date this nightmare must come to an end.
Until there’s a cure for the dating hangovers…