Lazy Eyed Mike

Let me begin by saying that I do not condone making fun of people for things outside of their control, but every now and again, when a person's personality is just ugly enough, everything feels like fair game. Sorry about it. That's just how I feel.

Now. About this dude:

Plenty Of Fish is a Christian dating site that has become wildly popular among the most disgruntled, most perverted, and downright unwholesome of online daters. I'm not even Christian (what, are you shocked?) but neither is anyone else there. I didn't know any of this until I gave it a shot. After a week or two of wading through questionable messages which were riddled with spelling errors, and profiles which treated grammar and punctuation as abstract theories, Michael caught my eye. It wasn't that he was particularly well spoken, or particularly attractive. I think it was probably the fact that the message he sent me was sane. It wasn't clever, but it was nice. "Hi, you seem like an interesting girl. How's your week?" After everything else I saw on that website, I figured it couldn't hurt to entertain some conversation. It went all right.
After exchanging numbers to continue our discussion, it became clear that we didn't share many similar views. It's okay by me when humans have differing opinions, but not everyone welcomes the views of others. He didn't like a debate, and people who didn't agree with him were swiftly deemed idiots. Still, I wasn't looking for anything in particular. At the time, I just wanted to stretch my social muscles, and if I met a man I wanted to see again, that would be a bonus. As you've probably guessed already, Michael was not going to be that man.

It took about a week or so before he asked me to meet him for dinner, and as reluctant as I was, I did say yes. His energy immediately changed, and he was suddenly quite nervous, if not entirely skeptical. I spent the day before our first date answering a million questions about my appearance. On any given dating profile, I only like to use pictures of my face, and my hair tends to be different in each one. The explanation is a simple one: no matter your body type, when you use full body pictures, people get creepier. I also change my hair a lot, and don't take too many pictures in between. When he asked me about it, my ready answer was not sufficient, somehow. But how tall am I? How much do I weigh, since I said I was thin? What color is my hair right now? How old am I again? How long or short is my hair? How old are the pictures? He couldn't find me online, is Lea even my real name? My answer was a picture of myself, holding up a piece of paper with the day's date, my age, and the words "NOT A CATFISH. CHILL OUT. -LEA."
All his questions did get me thinking, so I went back to his profile. I noticed that all of his pictures had the same pose, and the same expression, but he was wearing different shirts. He was turned slightly to the side, giving a slight smirk. He never mentioned how tall he was, but as a short person, I never quite feel right asking. He looked like an everyday, average dude. Cool with me. I wasn't too afraid he would appear much different, but he had started to get on my nerves already, which was not too encouraging.
Michael gave me a call around 5pm or so to ask if I knew where my local Chili's was. Now, I'm not too good for Chili's or anything, I just really dig creativity, and big chain restaurants feel boring. Not hating, I promise. A good first date can happen anywhere, because it's all about the two people involved. I'd just be lying if I said I didn't get a kick out of it when a guy shows a little individuality. I'd rather eat from a food truck, and have an adventure instead of going to sit down in a stuffy restaurant with a bunch of screaming children. Sue me. Effort is hot. Of course, I didn't tell him any of this, I just said I knew where it was, and I'd see him there.
Upon arrival, I was a bit underwhelmed. He was a small man, in an over sized t-shirt and dirty jeans, with a large margarita in front of him. It fell in line with that whole creativity and effort concern I had. The greeting was not great.
"Lea? Oh, man. Hi. You're not fat at all!"
"I know that."
"Yeah, you said you weren't. I just figured you were lying. My ex lied a lot. And she was kind of fat."

*Record scratch* Lots wrong with that. I probably don't need to break it down, but I will. Problem one, it's rude to comment on someone's weight. Problem two, it's not cool to tell someone you just assumed they were a liar. Problem Three, it's super not rad to not only immediately mention your ex, her lying problem, and your disdain before I can even sit down, but to insult her appearance. Problem four, don't lump me in with your lying, "kinda fat" ex girlfriend.
As I'm sure you can imagine, this was very uncomfortable. Then I sat down across from him, and realized why all of his pictures were taken from the same angle. His eyes were not pointed in the same direction. At all. They seemed to move independently of each other, and I had no idea which one to focus on. It was distracting, but I was determined not to let him see that I'd noticed. I tried my best to determine which eyeball was looking at me, but it was impossible. And I know I sound like a jerk right now, but really, I promise I'm not just picking on someone to be a bully. I'm trying to paint the picture. There's a trend among dates I'm not attracted to, and it's the fact that their personalities are ugly to me. And while I understand this man was obviously hurting and not recovered from his previous relationship, it did not make up for his behavior, and over the course of the next forty five minutes to an hour, he would repeatedly prove how unattractive he really was. Hideous. Basically a monster.
Before I had a chance to look at the menu, our waitress came by to greet me. I didn't even have the chance to speak before Michael ordered for me. "She'll have one of these," gesturing to his margarita. He also ordered both of our entrees without so much as asking me what I eat. I was stunned. Because of certain health issues, there are lots of items I can't eat or drink without significant pain, and margaritas are pretty high on that list. Raw onions are also up there, and whatever he ordered for me had lots of them. When I barely touched my drink, he was irritated, and mentioned how nice it would be if women were more grateful for the money he spent on them. The food caused more of the same.
 I knew pretty immediately after arriving this would be a short date, but everything he said seemed to cut it shorter. I attempted reasonable discussion to no avail. If I wasn't completely put off by his blatant disregard for my feelings or opinions, I was put off by the bad mouthing of ex girlfriends; specifically the fat, lazy, rude, ungrateful cheater he thought he'd marry. I eventually grew mildly fascinated with the way he could go from praising her for being the most amazing woman he'd ever met, to trash talking her for being a succubus. My interest did quickly wane, though, and I stopped paying attention. As I glanced at my phone under the table, the subject only shifted slightly. I was only half listening, but I know for damn sure the guy she cheated with was named Steven. Steven was an old friend. Steven should have known better. Steven will get what's coming to him. Steven should think twice before showing his face around town. Steven has a girlfriend now, and she better treat him like the idiot he is. He hopes to run into Steven's girlfriend, so he can show Steven how it feels to be betrayed by a friend. In the end, I was slightly concerned for Steven, but that lazy eye somehow made Michael a lot less threatening. I'm sorry I keep bringing it up, but it was severe. And his attitude was unsavory, which only made it worse. I was also sober, and starving.

As if the evening wasn't bad enough, when he finally got done rambling on about his past and the people who made it suck, he began to badger me about my political beliefs, which is something I strongly suggest nobody do on a first date. I won't divulge my beliefs here, but I will say they could not have been further from his. He didn't try to hide his disapproval, either. Scoffing, laughing, rolling his eye (sorry). He was beyond rude. Our waitress could tell things were awful. When I got up to use the restroom and call a friend, she followed me, asking if I wanted to exit through the kitchen. She wasn't kidding. I should have taken her up on it, but I didn't. Sadly, nobody was answering that evening, and I was going to have to get out of this on my own. I figured I would just go back, explain I had to run off, and then run off. The only problem was getting a word in edgewise with this guy.

When I returned to the table, Michael was mid-argument with a manager about an expired coupon. He was demanding the meal be comped for the inconvenience. He used my barely consumed drink and dinner as an example of their horrible service and food. I decided to push back a bit.I refused to sit back down, and I wasn't going to let this petulant man-child speak to people in that way.
"I'm sorry. Everything was fine. I just wasn't hungry, but I'd love a to-go box." I glared down at my date, who was bright red and angry. I took the check from in front of him, as he argued loudly about wanting to pay. I practically hissed at him, "You're embarrassing yourself. I'll get it." Without even reading the numbers, I handed my debit card to the manager, ignoring the yammering in my ear. When the manager walked away, I was staring down at my date. Furious.

"What is your problem? You wanted a free meal, you got a free meal."
"Yeah, from THEM. They were supposed to pay for it, since THEY messed it up."
"They didn't mess anything up. Quit yelling. For fuck's sake, dude."

But he didn't stop yelling. He yelled louder, and he stood up to put his face in mine. He was making quite a scene, only now it was directed at me instead of the staff. After getting my card back, I quickly signed the receipt, threw some cash on the table for a tip, and headed for the door. Michael followed, screaming for me to turn around and talk to him, to face him, to stop being such a "little bitch." At that point, two male employees had come in between us. I heard one of them telling him to stop following me, or they'd call the police. One ran to catch up to me, walking me to my car and making sure I was all right. I really wasn't. I don't know anyone who enjoys getting yelled at, but ever since living for a few years with a man who was constantly screaming at me, calling me names, and telling me outright that I am worthless, screaming conjures up some horrible feelings for me. Some call it PTSD, or getting "triggered," but whatever it is, it's awful. I'm really glad those two guys stepped in, though. There's no telling what would have happened. Michael was practically unhinged. I wasn't unfamiliar with drunk men acting unhinged.
I drove a mile or two down the road before pulling over into a parking lot. I sobbed. It was like being out with my awful, abusive ex boyfriend all over again. I wasn't sure of anything, and I was beyond worn out, but it passed far more quickly than I expected. Just as I was wrapped in the calm that usually accompanies the end of a good cry, I began to feel strong. Hopeful. I can't quite explain it, but the evening felt like a test, and in that moment, I knew I'd passed. I watched traffic whizzing by, saw the sun going down, and for what could have been five seconds or five hours, felt a peace I never expected. After a while, I dug the receipt from dinner out of my purse, wondering just how much I'd spent. There was a charge for $1.00 and the manager's phone number. All I could do was shake my head and laugh. I headed for home, made myself some dinner, and slept wonderfully alone.

Turns out it wasn't the worst date I'd been on.

xoxo