Rub It In
After a few emails back and forth, I made dinner plans to meet a guy I’d met online in person. I told him I would make tacos if he brought tortillas and beer. I should have known what I was in for when he showed me what he’d brought – the tortillas were clearly the ones he’d already had at his house because the packet was open. And he brought three bottles of Coors Lights in a grocery bag.
I was a little taken aback, but I started preparing dinner. When we began eating, I realized that the seasoning on the tacos was a little too salty. After a minute, I said, “Ok, don’t eat this.” His reply was to put his taco on my plate and say “Yeah, this is really bad.”
We decided to play Wii, but it wasn’t working for whatever reason.
“You should get some new s**t before we hang out,” he said. “It probably can’t read it because it’s like a sauna in here.”
That was roughly the 15th time he’d mentioned that it was hot, and he had watched me turn the A/C on.
After about 20 minutes of stilted conversation, he made his third bathroom trip. When he came out, he walked to my closed bedroom door, opened it, and went in. That was it for me, and I asked him to leave.
The next day, he emailed me for a second date by noting: “I think you still owe me tacos, since technically we just had very salty burritos.” Yeah, right.
