Worst Date Diaries: The Guy with the Pet Rocks
- Rahat Kapur
- May 29, 2015
- 9 min read
When you’re a single girl dating in Sydney City in your mid-twenties, at some point, someone is going to try and set you up on a blind date. For me, this moment came last week when a friend of mine offered me a chance to go out with a dashing, blonde, blue-eyed, tall and well-rounded colleague, a Doctor no less. She said she’d heard good things about him, though they’d never worked together personally and he had a reputation for being skilled around the practice he was seen at 2 – 3 times a week. He was supposedly charismatic, funny, sweet and great company. What is not to like about that? Like many before me who have been offered the chance to date a stranger, I was hesitant, but as I smiled at his photograph on her iPhone, I felt a spark of excitement inside me. There was no denying it, he was certainly good looking. Kind eyes, sweet smile and a body to boot. So I said what the hell, not like I’m getting pursued by Ryan Gosling over here, so why not?
Well, as you would’ve probably guessed already from the title of this blog, I would’ve been better off waiting for Danny Devito than dating this guy. Let me break it down for you.
Last night, 5:30pm
After hours of outfit struggle, I finally managed to throw on an outfit I was happy with. Black top, black tulip skirt and blazer, the perfect ‘After work’ chic look. I caked my face in powder and lined my eyes with dark kohl (let’s not lie ladies, ain’t nobody got time for the ‘natural’ look). My eyelashes fluttered, coated in heavy mascara and my skin was still dewy with the scent of DKNY’s ‘Candied Apple’. This was it, showtime people. I had spent months giving out advice to other people, now it was time to take my own and become the change I wanted to see in the dating world. Like Gandhi, only with boys.
6pm
He was late. Not a good start for the Doc. After all, what kind of Doctor was late anyway? What if this was a life-threatening surgery? Poor form. I also think I might actually be a tad overdressed given everyone here is looking at me like I’m about to go on a date with Prince William. Oh well, I’m going to have to accept that some people are born fabulous and I just happen to be one of them.
6:20pm
Wow, it’s about time Doc. Off to a shaky start, if I say so myself. He finally shows up and I almost forgive him for his tardiness. He is exactly what she promised. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, well-built, my heart flutters and I start planning how I’m going to introduce him to the family. My parents will love him for sure, especially my mum. The Doctor she could never have in the family is finally here. I breathe a sigh of relief and we head into a café nearby. I was finally going to be rewarded for all the man misfortune I’ve suffered. Praise Baby J.
6:25pm
Yeah no, this is not going anywhere and the Lord still hates me. What did I do in my past life to deserve this kind of luck with men? I must’ve been a real charlatan or something, because I sure haven’t done anything in this life that is resulting in such grave misfortune. It’s been all but 4 minutes and he’s gone ahead and unbuttoned his shirt. No, not like ‘Oh it’s a bit stuffy in here, let me just pop a button for some air’ kind of unbutton. I mean, décolletage exposing type of unbutton. As he proceeded to unbutton, he also began to puff his chest out, you know, just incase I wasn’t picking up on the obvious. I feel like I might be a bit too judgemental, so maybe, let’s see where this goes.
6.35pm
It’s been 15 minutes since our date has started and this guy has yet to even ask me how I am. Nope, he doesn’t care. Instead, I’ve been sitting here absolutely mute listening to him tell me all about his day in such intricate detail, you’d think we’d been married for 10 years. Even better, he’s using first names of people I’VE NEVER EVEN MET, expecting I’m going to be like ‘Oh Janet! Not that again, that’s such a Janet thing to do!’ and chime in with enthusiasm. Well, I ain’t. When the waitress came around to ask us for our order moments before, he simply looked me in the eyes and said, ‘I’ve had a huge lunch so I’m not eating anything, just getting coffee. Are you doing the same?’ EXCUSE ME? Thanks so much for asking, NOT. So I ordered a cup of tea. I have a feeling I’m going to need something quick and palatable.
6.50pm
It has successfully been over 30 minutes and I am still yet to speak. I am officially on a date with a psychopathic narcissistic nerd. Topics covered in the last half hour include:
Doctor’s day at work in explicit detail with a play-by-play of every moment he’s taken a breath.
Doctor’s extreme good looks and realisation that he is in fact a people person not only because he is a handsome guy but ALSO because he is extremely charismatic (don’t wait for anyone to confirm that epiphany of course, just believe it).
Doctor’s last two sexcapades involving a woman he met in a club that ended with four or more people in a room or bed together, not sure which, not sure if I EVER want to know.
Doctor’s brand new home renovation project and natural ability to build and deconstruct things because he just has a strong body.
Doctor’s love of science, universe, galaxy and all things Periodic Table. His words, not mine.
Doctor’s random memories that are totally not contextualised in any way, including names, details, intimate moments and inside jokes proceeded by his MANIC Austin Powers/Ace Ventura-esque laughter about said memory. As the whole café stares. For real.
Could this get any worse?
7pm
Yes, is the answer. Yes it can. The couple sitting on our right are looking at me with a combination of pity and utter amusement. I heard them whisper before to each other about whether we’re on a first date or not. YES, WE ARE. THE FIRST DATE FROM HELL. Lady, please save me. Please. Finally the Doctor asked me about myself about 2 minutes ago. I told him I’m a Consultant and before I could get the rest of the sentence out of my mouth, he proceeded to tell me off for what a useless career that was and how inefficient my job is. Like what? This is also all before he then told me my job doesn’t really seem so hard and why can’t I just use phone/e-mail techniques to get my work done? I’m sorry, what now? I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or to scream, so I just smiled and said, ‘You’re so right!’ to avoid starting conflict, or even worse, another conversation. Not that he needs a prompt for that. He’s currently deep into explaining how people waste their lives without ambition and need to get it together to avoid living a life of utter stupidity. I’m thinking for our second date, I’ll buy him a mirror.
7.10pm
The waiter keeps walking past us and looking down at me with his big, beautiful brown eyes. I wish human beings could telepathically communicate a HELP signal to people when on awkward blind dates. The Doctor is now telling me about how many women he’s managed to pull in the last 12 months and how his tastes are mostly eccentric. And not like 50 Shades eccentric, like CERAZY, involving multiple people eccentric. Why am I sitting here you wonder? I would leave, but I can’t find an intersection to get a word in. I first thought he might just be a narcissist, but I’ve very quickly come to realise that he’s also CLINICALLY INSANE. Over the last 45 minutes, his eyes have lit up manically as he’s done the ‘I’m going to take over the world!’ laugh at TOP VOLUME every time he’s explained a TOTALLY RANDOM memory. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly everytime he sees something funny and opens his mouth out wide, his ears shake and he lets out the LOUDEST NOISE EVER. Even better is, he’s tried to hold my hand which sent me into a frenzy of absolute panic and I nearly knocked over my cup of tea. I wish I’d orchestrated a fake call. Why was I so optimistic about tonight?! Damn you The Notebook, you set expectations WAY TOO HIGH.
7.15pm
I have no more words for what I’ve just seen. In a moment of absolute STUPIDITY, I asked him what he does in his spare time, AS IF I DIDN’T KNOW ENOUGH ABOUT HIM ALREADY and of course, he launched in. I stopped paying attention as soon as he started talking until he pulls up his wallet and takes out a couple of photos. I begin panicking thinking he’s got a family of 6 kids he hasn’t told me about or something, but what I see is MUCH WORSE. A woman also dropped her entire cup of coffee behind us and instead of trying to help her, he looked right into my eyes and said ‘God, how awful for her. I could never be that stupid.’ I have no words.
PET ROCKS.
GUYS. HE HAS PET ROCKS. This is not a drill. WHO HAS PET ROCKS?! Clearly, he does, because I saw a photo of all 5. They had names AND EVERYTHING. For a second, I looked around thinking I was surely on some sort of MTV Disaster Date episode, but NOPE. NO ONE CAME. So what did I do? I sat and listened to the story of how he found these rocks on the beach, RESCUED THEM (YES, RESCUED) them and now cares for them. I cannot make this stuff up people. So I did what any sane person would do. I laughed out loud. AT HIM. And what did he think I was doing? Laughing at how AMAZING the situation was. So he laughed too! I MEAN WHAT! He also then tells me I can share them with him once I’m officially his girlfriend. I….just….y’all need Jesus.
7.30pm
After a sufficiently painful 15 minutes, I’ve finally managed to bolt from the ‘date’. But this was not before he told me he thought it went REALLY, REALLY well and we now know so much about each other. I MEAN WHAT? I of course, did not try to do anything to correct this illusion because that would’ve involved more words. As he walked me out, he was DEFINITLEY angling for a kiss and I was angling for a kick in the groin. Luckily for me, I used my masterful kickboxing dodge moves and avoided all forms of contact. I’m still not sure what I’ve just seen, but GOD, this is going on the blog. Oh god, he’s just texted saying he had an amazing time, when am I free next. Oh hell nah.
So there you have it. Surely this must be a contender for THE WORST DATE EVER and I may never speak to my friend again. Part of being a Dating Blogger means knowing you may experience the worst of the worst and that’s okay, because it’s clearly better for my art. The only thought I do have is, is it any wonder that we’re all single around here when THIS is the quality of men who work in professions where a brain is a BASIC requirement?! As I rung my friend afterwards to recount my trauma, her words hit me like a tonne of bricks, ‘I think it’s time to go for the man that doesn’t seem so perfect on paper. Maybe throw away the checklist and try going for someone a little less Mr. Ideal. I did and it worked for me.’
And you know what? I think she might be on to something. Maybe when we’re glancing over our ‘Ideal Man’ checklists over and over, we forget there’s no such thing as the perfect man, just the perfect man for us. Romantic comedies and Sex & the City have us believing that men who tick all the boxes are the ones who we have to hold out for and eventually, they will show up. What these shows and movies lack however, is a sense of realism. Out in the non-celluloid world, the perfect man might be chivalrous, gorgeous, funny and smart, but he may not be making six figures. He may not be as spontaneous and romantic as the millionaire of your dreams. He might just be a nice guy who works in the corner cubicle and sometimes spills coffee down the front of his shirt. It’s important to remember that dating these men, the real-world men, is not by any measure an indication of ‘settling’. You can still have your standards, but maybe it’s time to stop looking for perfection.
Because if this is what Mr. Right looks like, hell people, I would much rather be wrong.
Toodle-oo!
R xx
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