Tool Time
I met B when he came up to my friend and me in a swanky bar and told us he was the owner. He looked like a guy you’d find on Tool Academy – fake tan, too buff, soul patch – but he was nice and seemed genuine, so when he asked me out to dinner, I stupidly accepted. When he picked me up, we made pleasant conversation in the car, with the exception of the topic of his age; he wouldn’t tell me how old he was, just saying he was in better physical shape than all my friends. Although at 21 I felt like the age range of my dating pool was pretty big, his refusal to tell me his age should have been an immediate red flag, but I pressed on, optimistic. We ate at a cute little Japanese restaurant, where the second red flag was that B proceeded to make fun of the server’s Asian accents loudly and unabashedly while staring at me (a Chinese girl), expecting me to laugh. I gave a few pity chuckles and changed the topic, and the rest of dinner went smoothly.
We had decided before the date that we would go to a bar and for some dumb reason I did not insist on going home. Making conversation, I started discussing the bars my friends and I liked in this gay-friendly area when he blurted out that he thought homosexuality was a product of environment and not of genetics. Stunned that someone would bring such a sensitive topic up on the first date, I engaged in a small debate with him, in which he made horrible arguments and when I presented evidence to the contrary, B would declare, “Well those are the rare genetic ones.” I generally try to respect other people’s opinions when they differ from mine, but when B simply asserted that his opinions must be valid because of what he had seen and then reverted to the opposite argument when his points were disproved, I began to think he was just stupid.
He kept buying more drinks – probably assuming I had a weak tolerance for alcohol (I don’t) – and with each new drink, would try exponentially harder to move in for a kiss. I somehow managed to dodge his advances for another hour before exclaiming that I had class early in the morning and needed to go to home immediately. The ride home consisted of him trying to rub my back with his free arm while attempting to discuss music with me using outdated slang. I thanked him for dinner and the drinks and rushed inside. He kept texting me for weeks after, always asking if I would be near his bar and if I’d want to go “make out” in his car. After asking nicely over text messages, I found out he was 45, making him my oldest and creepiest very worst date.
