Brain to Mouth Filter... or Lack Thereof

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
there are just some topics to avoid on a first date

Submitted: April 06, 2009

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Submitted: April 06, 2009

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Brain to Mouth Filter… or Lack Thereof (true story)

Maybe it was me asking him if he was an ass or a boob man on our first date that really sealed the fate of any future relationship… or maybe it was the combination of red flags he practically slapped me in the face with, regardless my little bubble of hope was punctured and my ego deflated. I guess I had convinced myself that our first date was a blast because I ditched my brain to mouth filter and acted like I would with any friend I hang out with. 
I didn’t care too much to impress him since it took him over a week to grow a pair and actually call… oh wait… text me to ask me out. There is nothing like some good flirting via text before a first date. Why didn’t I run then? I even said I could meet him instead of him picking me up in case he was a crazy murderer or something… basically that I didn’t want him knowing where I lived. Why didn’t he run then?
After my first date with my last boyfriend he had called his mom and insisted that everything went well except that I couldn’t dress myself. This was a fairly accurate statement, but unnecessary to divulge to me in the manner that he did. Fearing for my apparel more than what I could say or do to turn off this new prospect I began an intense search for a new shirt to wear. Screw the purse or jewelry or flattering jeans, I just needed a decent top. Looking through my wardrobe is like watching an episode of What Not to Wear. So I decided to go shopping. Three and a half hours and at least ten stores later I was at my wits end, practically in tears. I had been texting one of my girlfriends (since all my close ones were working or lived out of town) and she insisted I go to Maurice’s. By the time I got there I was exhausted. I decided that I was leaving there with a shirt regardless or whether it looked good or not. Two trips later to the dressing room and I was a mental wreck. Nothing looked right or felt comfortable. I broke down. I asked the pleasant girl working if she had any suggestions as I explained that I had no sense of fashion and needed a shirt to wear. I even reassured her that she didn’t have to worry that the jeans I practically needed a jar of Vaseline to get on were not the ones I would wear with the shirt, oh the joys of laundry day. With her assistance I left with five or six new shirts, over a hundred dollars invested in my new attire and another credit card I never planned on activating. 
I knew it was casual dress but I still wanted to look good with my new tank tops and cover-up and my hair unrestrained from the typical ponytail. He showed up in jeans and a t-shirt. So I may have been a tiny bit overdressed in comparison, but my jeans and attitude were enough to compensate. I greeted him with an awkward hug. He opened the door for me. Wow, this was off to a great start. I think we should have just both stopped talking from that moment on. I cannot even recall all of the taboo topics we hit on, but I let myself go as soon as he started talking about his past DUI as he is driving me to the restaurant. Alright… game on! My attitude was simple. I was interested, if it worked out then great but if not, so be it. I had nothing to lose. I was tired of pretending to be someone I wasn’t so if he didn’t like me how I was then it wasn’t worth my time. Before we sat down he had already brought up ex-girlfriends so I ditched the kid gloves and told him how my girlfriend had told me if I felt the date was headed south I was to order the most expensive thing off the menu and get wasted. I laughed, but I think it scared him. He told me I could order whatever I liked. 
We discussed the typical first date things: favorite type of music, number of siblings, career goals, milk preference, family income level growing up, birth control methods and so forth. I like country, he likes rock. I have three siblings, which he never asked me about, and he has a fraternal twin brother and six or so siblings, depending on which ones you count. I didn’t need to know that his mother was divorced three times and was a single mom of six and that he had only met his dad once for thirty minutes since he left them. Only when he asked did I let him know my parents separated when I was ten and divorced when I was in college, but I left out the gruesome details of betrayal and the fights I had endured and the time I locked myself in the basement. 
We discussed his career as a radiology technician and how he had experience and training in the army. He talked about how good of a soldier he would have been while I told him I was relieved he was spared the trauma of witnessing action on the front line. I let him know that I intended on going to graduate school and my current job was just a job, and until the economy picked up I wasn’t going to be able to up and quit to do what I actually wanted to do. He claimed he was too old to go back to school because he was ancient at the age of thirty-two. 
Somehow I managed to ask him what kind of milk he preferred which was 2% and occasionally 1%. I said I was a skim girl all the way. And we laughed. Then he started to explain in depth how growing up his family didn’t always have a lot of money and used powdered milk and the details of his warm, chunky milk and cereal. I said that if that were me than I probably wouldn’t even drink milk at all. In an attempt to make him feel more comfortable divulging this information I explained that we had similar backgrounds but that although my family struggled I still had everything I needed to be provided with. I went to a private school on scholarships and most of my classmates came from a high income background. I could have left out the part about how although it was a Catholic school I didn’t have to wear a uniform and that I had only dressed up like that for Halloween once… but I still had the outfit should I ever need it. 
He told me about being cheated on by an ex he was in love with who cheated on him with a fellow coworker since the three of them worked together and although he didn’t cry often he felt like it when he had to go to work. I reassured him that I have never cheated on someone and I could never bring myself to do so. We talked about working out since I had met him at the gym. Presumably a “safe” topic until he asked if I ever felt intimated when I took a hiatus from the gym and how I felt when I went back and looked at all the beefy guys doing weights. I really wanted to tell him that I am not a guy so the guys don’t bother me; it was really the skinny bitch sitting on the bike talking on her cell phone that annoyed me. Instead I told him I could care less about other people at the gym, I go there with a purpose… to workout. Crazy thought, I know. I also reassured him that he had a nice body and that I am not attracted to the really big guys. At that point he accused me of lying to him. Ok, and what purpose would that serve me to lie to him I wondered. Oh, because he had gone on a blind date his buff roommate set him up on and how she had insisted she didn’t like big buff guys but wouldn’t stop talking about his roommate and how it was the worst date ever. When the roommate broke up with his girlfriend the two of them ended up dating. Apparently I was going to want his roommate too? I have no idea what the point was, so I told him I went on a date with a moron in college who although he was big and built I felt like his kid sister so I didn’t dig super muscle building guys. 
After surviving dinner and all the flirty touching he did we headed back to my place. I apparently was wasted the entire date on my glass of ice water and looked past all of our random discussions chalking it up to feeling at ease and not worrying about impressing. I think I should have worried more about impressing, well I guess not since he apparently did not. Still we drove back and I felt pretty confident. Sitting in my driveway he asked me if I was psycho. I said he would need to define that thinking that this was his way of flirting with me. Seeming how I majored in psychology psycho to him and psycho to me could be two very different things. Maybe my crazy obsession with running marathons was psycho to him and someone setting fires to their bed was psycho to me. Then he talked about the same cheating ex-girlfriend who pretty much beat the crap out of him and how that was his idea of crazy. I again reassured him that I do not cheat and I am not violent. He talked about his instincts and how that he was old enough that he learned to go with his gut. I said I hoped his instincts were good with me or at least better than those he had with the crazy ex. 
He mentioned how he had to go to the bathroom but being the gentleman he is he wasn’t going to go in my house, he intended on stopping at the Quik Trip down the street. I than took it upon myself to tell him how that was good because I had no intention of inviting him in. At that moment I should have stopped my mouth from running, but I was having such a good time without filtering that I proceeded to explain how I hadn’t shaved and by doing so I had put in place my own personal birth control measures. He said if push came to shove he would get past that but that that was way too much information. Was it too much information from me or too much from him? It was somewhere in this conversation I asked his preference for a girl with a nice ass or nice boobs. Not realizing the nice chick from Maurice’s had hooked me up with a top that made it look like I had a chest, I pushed for a direct answer. Being a “whole package” kind of guy was not enough for me. At the same time I didn’t need to know that he liked a nice ass to grab too. 
When it came time to depart from the truck I told him I had a good time and if he wanted to see me outside of the gym again to let me know. I asked if I had to wait another week to hear from him. He blubbered something out that didn’t make very much sense in reference to expecting a call… or text. He then tried to shake my hand. Duh, of course he wasn’t interested. I said we could at least hug. I had no intension of playing tonsil hockey but then he hugged me twice and pulled up the back of my shirt a little bit. Oh, how daring! 
I did hear from him two days later… I had a good time, thanks for going out to dinner but I just didn’t feel the connection I was hoping for and I will still say hi when I see you at the gym. So instead of responding thanks for saving me the time of eventually realizing you were crazy down the road, I thanked him for the date and honesty and how I had a good time and I would “see you around.” So although I had a really good time joking around and thought maybe I had found a good one, based soley on the door being opened for me and my ice water goggle eyes, I have learned a very good lesson: There are just some things you shouldn’t mention on a first date or probably for a few months because talking about how you didn’t shave and wanting to know ass or boob preference won’t get you a second date.


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