What the Fork!
K and I went on our first date to a new, chic restaurant in East Nashville. It was obvious she wasn’t used to high-end restaurants because she had no idea what fork to use or where she should put her cloth napkin, but I thought it was endearing and told her to relax and just take it easy, as we were there to have a good time.
It soon became obvious that she was not much of a drinker either. After her first glass of wine, she started talking about how she wanted to be married with two kids within the next five years. Keep in mind, we were both 24. I laughed awkwardly and told her that she couldn’t really make those plans because they usually require a second party. She leaned forward (this was after her third glass of wine) and told me that she already found the second party. It was me.
Knowing that a follow-up date wasn’t going to happen, I decided to take the conversation where most guys would be too afraid to go. I asked her how she knew. She started going on and on about how I have money and how she needed a man with money because she wanted lots of kids. Then she started saying that it looked like I had good genes because I was taller than her and handsome. Then she winked at me and downed another glass.
After we finished the bottle of wine, I paid the tab and we left. As I was driving her home, K began unbuckling my pants because, as she put it, she wanted to “make happy” with me while I drove. And while I’m usually game for that kind of thing, I needed to be clear that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with her after that night.
I repeatedly rejected her advances, which included her grabbing my area and trying to get her hands down my pants. And then she started crying. Then she got mad and started hitting me. Then she got out of the car at a red light and told me to go f*ck myself.
That was the weirdest night of my entire life.
