Mr Might Be Racist Guy

So it’s not as easy as it sounds…  sometimes you taste something in a dish and you THINK you know what it is!  You’re almost sure you know the spice, but you’re just not 100% sure.  Is it thyme or rosemary?  Was that a little cinnamon or nutmeg?  It’s a little spicy, so is that red-pepper flakes or chipotle powder?  It’s like it’s there, but so sneaky and subtle, you start to question your sense of judgment and doubt your very senses!

That’s kind of how the “MIGHT BE RACIST” guy starts out.  A little here and you think, “Wait! What WAS that?!”  (In your head you think, was that a racist comment?)  And then, he’s sweet to a small child and you are quickly convinced that your mind was playing tricks on you.  Surely, you think, there isn’t a malicious bone in his body!  So you let it go and you continue on with the taste-test.

A few days later, there it is again.  Not directly, but discreetly while you are involved in your covert, private investigative work.  As you peruse his Facebook page...jokes, tons of them.  Almost every single one of them, videos and pictures included, are of other races or other perceived classes.  And again you hear the nagging in the back of your mind, “What is his deal?  Is this what I THINK it is?”  As your mind is processing the evidence, you are hoping it isn’t chipotle powder, because you are SUPER allergic to chipotle.  You really hope for red-pepper flakes!

But then… in the final dish, you taste it!  As clear as day: it’s chipotle.  While you are ordering your yogurt, you notice he treats servers markedly different, depending on the perceived ethnic differences.  It’s there and it’s very obvious. He doesn’t even TRY to hide it and you almost choke in utter disgust.

Lesson:  When it looks like chipotle, smells like chipotle and tastes like chipotle, it’s chipotle.  I (no doubt) enjoy a little spice. I just have to be sure of the flavor!         

The Worst Kisser EVER Guy

I met this guy at a friend's Christmas party. He was alone. I was alone. It only made sense that he and I should talk to each other. He had the plastic glasses, skinny jeans, messy hair--everything that would make me think that I would enjoy talking to him. And that's what we did. We left the party. No numbers were exchanged. At this point I was thinking that he was actually really fun to talk with, and that hopefully I'd found a new friend. And that I did.

The powers of facebook allowed us to stay connected, and we actually hung out a few times. We got sushi one night. We met up with friends sometimes. Everything was JUST friends and was nice. It's not like we hung out all the time, but we emailed on a fairly regular basis. And then it became more irregular. But that's life. We weren't best friends, and it just faded.

A few months later, I saw him at the coffee shop. He introduced me to his girlfriend. As I was shaking her hand, I was thinking to myself that this is why I haven't heard from him in a while. Ahh well. She seemed nice, and he appeared happy. I did tell him that we needed to grab a drink sometime and catch up. A few weeks went by, and I shot him a text to see if he wanted to meet up. He couldn't, and that was fine.

Here's where the story is. A couple weeks after that, I was driving home from a night out (about to be convinced to meet up with a guy who was major bad news--another story for another time--and I got a text from my friend that said, "How 'bout that drink?" Let me just say right now that it was 11:30 on a Friday night. But because I wasn't quite ready to go home, I asked him where to meet. When I met up with him, I noticed that he was probably a few drinks in. So, we had one more. He wanted to get out of there, and because it was nearly 1:00 and neither of us were up for downtown, he offered for us to watch a movie at his place. I agreed. Mind you, I knew this guy. He wasn't a stranger. We were friends--the point being that I trusted him enough to go over to his house (it also might be worth mentioning that while he was probably a good 5 inches taller than me, I outweighed him by about 30 pounds... so I think we all know who would have won in that struggle). Anywho, on the way to his place, he called me and asked if we could go over to mine instead because his roommate was being weird.

He had me in a bind at this point, because my roommate (who was my sister at the time) was going to be wierd about him coming over, too. But I said it was ok. So, he followed me to my place. He picked out a movie to watch. When I went to sit on the couch, he put his arm around me, which move confirmed my suspicion that he and his girlfriend had called it quits. So basically we cuddled on the couch and watched the movie.

Then..... it happened. He kissed me. And not just a quick little kiss. He went for it. And it was NOT good. He basically stuck his tongue as far as he could get it in my mouth and just kept it there. He didn't move it. It just kind of laid there in my mouth. He let his hands do all of the moving, if you know what I'm saying. Now, I don't know what he thought was going to happen that night (he did find the top of my tights that were pulled up about 9 inches above my belly button and found a way to get his hand inside of them--yes, I called it a belly button--but he didn't keep it there fore long), but I basically had to spit his tongue out of my mouth, and I went to bed. At this point, he was too tired to drive home so he crashed on the couch.

The next morning was not less than awkward. First of all, he wouldn't wake up fast enough. Second of all, my poor sister saw him on the couch, and just went back upstairs. When he finally got up, nothing was said about the previous night. I told him how to get out of the neighborhood, and that is literally the last I ever heard from him. (Side note: the powers of the internet allowed me to learn that he got back with that girlfriend of his and is now married to her).

What I learned from this situation was that an 11:30 text from a guy asking to go out for a drink is a bootie call. Even if you're casual friends, this guy from the moment he sent that text had other things in mind. In retrospect, I think he had had a fight with his girlfriend and just wanted to forget about her for a moment. But the more important lesson learned: tights make things awkward. They can either be a protective barrier/too much trouble for him to deal with or a nuisance for the wearer. In this case, the tights were definitely the former, but it is something to think about as fall and winter roll around.

Stretchy Pants Guy

She was leaving with her husband and approached me at the bar on her way out the door. She introduced herself and told me that her friend at the end of the bar thought I was cute and was working up the nerve to come talk to me. When he arrived, she asked me to be nice. Great. Obviously exactly the kind of guy I'm looking for. One with no confidence and needs friends to "warn" women about their lack of social skills. But I get it...be nice.

After about 20 min, the gentleman comes over to sit by me but doesn't speak. OK. We both know why you are here, your friend warned me about you coming, and now you can't even introduce yourself? (be nice). So I introduce myself and start a general conversation. This gentleman is not what I would call a conversationalist but I was bored so forced/awkward conversation is better than no conversation, right?

He orders a plate of cheese sticks and offers me one. My stomach turned as I noticed the grease hardening on the plate in front of me (be nice) so I politely turned it down saying that I have to be careful about what I eat. And then it happened. The most beautiful words ever spoke at a bar..."I don't have to worry about what I eat after my grandmother told me about stretchy pants." I was speechless. After an awkward pause he continued with "you know, stretchy pants. The kind with the elastic waistband (as he gestures pulling out the waist of his pants). With elastic bands my stomach just grows as I eat with no pain." I was speechless. (BE NICE!) I had no words and after an even longer pause I had to change the subject. Let's evaluate what was wrong with what happened.

1) You ordered cheese sticks and when I said "be careful about what I eat" you think I'm referring to a painful stomach and not my heart, arteries, and other organs that would be hardened by the grease.

2) You talk about how you not only shop with your grandmother, but you take her advice on clothes.

3) The advice you take is in regards to stretchy pants. STRETCHY PANTS. You know...the kind with the elastic waistband.

4) You tell me this story at a bar. Where others can hear. Where I have to be nice and ignore the snickering behind me.

5) You gesture stretchy pants to me because you thought I didn't understand. Oh...I understood.

To make this story even more interesting was how he ended the night (after a few more minutes of painful conversation). As he was getting ready to leave he THROWS a balled up piece of paper at me. Obviously already annoyed and about out of "niceness", I open it to find his business card. I flat out asked "Why the heck did you crumple it? Now I can put it in my wallet flat." His response? "I was nervous to give it to you." Again, let's run down why this is wrong.

1) You just threw a piece of paper at me.

2) You crumpled your business card (meant to imply "professional") in a manner equal to a 5 yr old.

3) If you were embarrassed to give it to me, why didn't you throw and leave? Why did you stick around for me to open it in front of you anyway?

So...

Lesson Learned: Sometimes no conversation IS better than awkward conversation. Although if you go for the awkward conversation you might just hear someone use the words "stretchy pants" in a sentence.