I’m 90% sure the sole reason I continue to date is for the continuous stream of free material. Terrible? Maybe. Worse for me to immerse myself in these awkward situations then for you to read them? Let’s hope! I wish I could say I’m dating because I’m interested in starting something again, but anyone who’s been around me for more than five minutes knows that although I’ve recently ended a relationship…a serious one…I’m not particularly ready to eh…date again. So instead I’ve been occupying my time with casual dating in the hopes that one of these delightful gentlemen will surprise me, and I’ll wind up really liking someone by accident.
Recently I wound up chatting with someone who I have had a little bit of genuine interest in. Not only is he educated, in a great place job and life-wise, but he looks a lot like an old crush of mine from middle school. This is about to get disturbing…but I loved that he spoke another language (H-O-T) and that he literally looked like this other guy almost EXACTLY. Perfect fantasy-to-reality love story right there!
So he happens to call me on Sunday, and asks for a last-minute date and I’m super excited, as he’s again…one of the only people I’ve even had any remote interest in for some time. “Sure, I’d love to meet up! Where and when?” He’s not from South Florida originally, but he happens to pick this classy wine bar that’s on the beach in Fort Lauderdale. Great start.
I head in to find him and wow does he look like my middle school love. Now I’m really excited, as he’s not a lagoon creature (a term for the highly unattractive and misshapen) and he’s turning out to be rather well put together. As we finish our bottle of wine, he continues to tell me a little bit more about him, and we’re hitting it off! We begin talking about traveling, and he’s impressed that I’ve seem most of the U.S. by car. “Wow, that’s great! When I was driving down from Canada to move here, I passed through a few places but nowhere for long enough to explore. My favorite trip was to Spain and France, where my friends stopped off at this nude beach.”
Suddenly, I’m thrown off.
MEN…listen carefully…MAJOR turn off…talking about sexual things via phone prior to first date, or ON the first date.
Me: “So did you…enjoy the nude beach…?”
Him: “Well, I wasn’t going to do it, but all my friends were doing it! SO I just took my pants off and voila (the other language he speaks fluently is French…just saying….hot).”
Me: “Wow…pretty adventurous. How was that?”
At this point I’m not really willing to be affected by this. He seems about 90% normal, why care that he is confident enough to drop his pants in public? If he’s willing to do that…his eh…”confidence” must be pretty…huge. Next question was in regards to the South Beach nude beach, to which I reply that I know it exists but would not go to that sort of thing.
Not my bag.
Then I quickly recovered by explaining it’s pretty normal for that type of thing in South Beach, as the mentality down there makes it seem like the Europe of FL. I can’t believe how normal the night appeared to be. A whole date without any MAJOR sense of weirdness? Impossible!
You don’t seem to be unusually attached or afflicted, uneducated or unmotivated…what’s wrong with you, I wonder?!
As is normally the case, it was allllllllll a matter of time. I should have realized little signs indicating his love for nudity, the act of being nude and general overall hatred for clothing.
Him: “Want to take a walk on the beach? Or we could have another bottle of wine? Or didn’t you say that you lived close to here?”
I text my friend and tell her that everything is fine. Per usual girl code, if I say no, it means my dog is sick. In this scenario, she is my roommate and needs me to come home NOW. I also tell her that I think he’s trying to trick me a bit into going back to my house…she says if I’m all out of pepper spray or good judgement…do none of the above.
I decide she’s being paranoid and agree to the walk on the beach. I’m on the fence about how I’m feeling with this one, but the walk on the beach goes seamlessly and I’m stunned by his normalcy and down to earth attitude. Now it’s time to walk back to the car. I’m parked in a dark lit place, but a place I’m familiar with so I’m not nervous. He walks me back to the car and I agree to drive him back to his.
At first, it seems harmless…until he grabs my face and kisses me like he is attacking me. Many quick HARD kisses while saying things in French in-between… “C’est Bon.” I’m officially turned off and am ready to hop in the car and head home to my “sick dog.” I HATE forward acts on a first date. Suddenly, he asks…”can you take my shirt off? I’m a little itchy and want to make sure it’s not a rash or spreading… WHAT? “Eh…no, I’m sorry. I’ll take you back to your car and you can check it out. Best of luck with that.”
As you’ll come to learn in time, I don’t joke about these things. I’m a horrible fiction writer, and what purpose would I have to lie?
He literally gets out of the car, stands up and RIPS his clothing off.
Him: “Remember when I said that I had never been to the nude beach down here?”
Me: “Uh…yes…” I’m insanely nervous at this point. WTF just happened Dr. Jekyll!?
Him: “Well…I lied. You see, I love being nude. Can’t get enough of it as a matter of fact! Had a really nice time, I WILL call you…”
Before I could say don’t bother, my façade of a decent man took off running with his clothes down a back alley…nude. One can only hope he composed himself before returning to his car or out on the busy Fort Lauderdale Beach.
Despite the various texts, emails, and calls after the incident it was clear that we were not a match.
Just another blip on the dating radar from hell!