Sometimes the craziest stories are the truth. This happens to be one of those stories.
Back in October, when I was still on the market (I was talking with my geek boy, but we hadn’t met yet), I went on a date with what seemed to be a normal person. The guy, let’s call him… John… we had some decent conversations over IMs. His profile was good, he seemed intelligent, had a good career, no red flags.
It went downhill from the moment I saw him. To start off, he was much fuglier and balder than his pictures. (Guys, please, you’re just wasting time and money when you put up pictures from 5-10 years ago!) Within seconds of seeing him, I was thinking “At least it’s just coffee…”
We got our drinks, sat down and made small talk. He said I was beautiful. I couldn’t say the same for him. I thought I could overlook him being shorter than me, but the newly apparent fugliness plus the shortness was just not working.
One thing that is a dealbreaker for me is children. I don’t want any. It’s not that I don’t like kids, but I have 114 teenagers from 6:45 am until 3:30 pm. I love my kids to death, but I don’t need more children when I’m off work, y’know? He shared the same feelings, although his went off the deep end into hatred of all young people.
Then, this little gem escaped his lips…
“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this,
but I really hate handicapped people.”
Yes, he actually said that. He hates the handicapped. Now, I can understand hating racists, rude people, the willingly ignorant… but the handicapped have no choice in the matter. You choose to be racist. You choose to be willingly ignorant. You don’t choose to be an amputee.
I was doing my best not to either crack up laughing or hit him. He went on to say how he’s all scared that if he breathes the same air as them that he’s going to develop some sort of disease or something.
Figuring that this story could only get better, I asked him if he ever eats at the Mexican restaurant down by his work. He said yes, and I asked him if he’d ever seen the one-armed waiter. (The one-armed waiter is totally awesome. He beats the snot out of any two-armed waiters I’ve ever had… I’ll refrain from the obvious “with one hand tied behind his back” joke.)
His eyes widened. “I won’t eat there if he’s my waiter. I can’t eat if he’s my waiter.”
Yes sir, he’s going to catch a case of amputee if he eats a quesadilla served to him by a one-armed man.
I managed to do the “it’s late, I should get home” bit, gave “John” a quick hug (backing away quickly to avoid anything he might try to pull in terms of “moves”) and said “talk to you later” which I hoped would end up being me coming up with some inspired reason why I could never see him again without damaging his obviously fragile psyche.
I went home, blogged about it in my LiveJournal, and asked my friends for advice.
My friend B, who works in HR, suggested the following:
“Thank you for your interest in this position. While we were impressed with your qualifications and the way you presented yourself in the interview, we feel that we have identified the candidates we wish to take to the next steps in our recruitment process.”
My friend T said to try this:
“Just tell him you can’t meet him for coffee today because you have an appointment to get your prosthetic leg re-adjusted. “
But it was my ex who came up with the brilliant plan that I eventually used. You see, his brother just got married… and his sister-in-law looks like she could be my older, fatter sister. My ex’s dad is blind – seeing eye dog and all! – and his step-mom is in a wheelchair. There is a wedding picture with all four of them (five including the dog!) that my ex just happened to have scanned.
Since I didn’t mention much about family to “John”, it was the perfect story. I wrote him the following email and attached the photograph:
Thank you for coffee last night. Attached please find a picture I took of my family at my sister’s wedding. I hope you can understand why a relationship between us would not work out.
Have a good Sunday,
He actually replied:
no worries! But I had a good time with you. Thank you so much for coming out. I mean – out with me… not “coming out”. You’re beautiful and you’ve got nice toes (that’s not a fetish… I mean, they are all proportional. The 2nd toe is not bigger than the big toe – you don’t have “talons” like Paris Hilton). Yeah, I don’t know where my amputee / wheelchair issue came from. Certainly not a trauma. Actually, I think know where it came from…. highschool. The man with one finger serving me macaroni and cheese. I guess it just got stuck in the brain and then branched out. Oh well.
oh… ps… let me know if you want resident evil 4 for the wii ( for free)… seriously. I mean, I can mail it or whatever. It’s just taking up precious space.
Hey, at least I’m beautiful and have nice toes. (No, I didn’t take him up on the offer of a free Wii game. I just wouldn’t have felt right about that.)
Anybody else got a crazy dating story they’d like to share?
(P.S. My ex’s family knows about this and thinks it is hilarious.)