You – Me = 3.5

Also Known As . . . Know Your Role and Shut Your Mouth.

“D, D, D . . . . look at her,” I hissed to D-Magic. “Do you think she’s a hooker?”

We both stared across *The Diner to get a better look at the woman that I was talking about. Under normal circumstances I’m pretty sure there wouldn’t have been a hooker in The Diner. After all, The Diner is a family restaurant. But, these weren’t normal circumstances. D-Magic and I made a detour to The Diner after a night out in Old City; one of those nights where it was OK for me to take a couple shots to dull the pain of my broken heart. So there we sat, at 4:00 am, debating whether or not the gentleman took his hooker (I’m convinced she was a hooker, she was wearing red leather and red fishnet stockings!) out to breakfast before dropping her back off at the corner.

“She’s definitely a hooker.” I turned around (mostly because I felt guilty about being so loud) and peeked over the booth to see two gentlemen – one of whom caught my eye because he had Lloyd Banks’ face on Warren Sapp’s body (and don’t talk about Warren because he gives a MEAN Paso Doble on DWTS). If you know anything about me, then you know I’m a sucker for a man with a cute smile and a dimple or two . . . something that this gentleman and Lloyd have in common. So, D-Magic and I continued our conversation about the woman’s employment status with our new friends . . . well, my new friend; D-Magic wasn’t too fond of the other guy.

Eventually, I slid my way into the booth with Lloyd Banks (his nickname for the time being) to learn a little more about him. He owned a cleaning company and business was good. I guess that’s because he worked with banks to clean out foreclosed properties. He’d grown up in the area, was really down to earth and had a great sense of humor. So, at the end of the night when he asked for my number I gave it to him. Nobody was asking me to marry the guy – just hang out. And, like D-Magic said, even though he’s not my type it would be good dating practice.

And he was. He called me the next day (how refreshing to find a guy who doesn’t believe in the 3-day rule, but also manages NOT to seem like a stalker) and we made plans to go to dinner the following Tuesday after my pianTo lessons. We met up and headed to a great little Mexican BYOB in the city**. We talked about our families, our childhoods, Illadelph and sports. And, save for the comment he made about “not being into fashion or high maintenance girls” (ummm, my name is CCB – you should know better) I had a great time. Such a good time that we agreed to see The Dark Knight that weekend. I offered to order the tix online (since he paid for my dinner, the tequila and like 3 pitchers of margaritas) and we made plans to see the 7:30 show.

Now, 7:30 is incredibly important. He told me at least 36 times NOT to come a minute after 7 so that we could get good seats. And he told me how much he hated people who talked through the movie. And then, told me another 15 times not to be late.

Fast forward to Friday . . .

7:05 pm Lloyd Banks: I’m leaving now.
CCB: How far are you?
LB: 5 minutes

7:06 pm CCB: He’s running late. I don’t want sucky seats in the theatre. You know it’s a zoo!
D-Magic: He’ll be there soon.
CCB: Here’s hoping.

7:15 pm LB: I’m five minutes away.

7:16 pm CCB: He says he’s five minutes away. If he doesn’t come by 7:20, I’m going to leave his ticket with the guy who tears them.
D-Magic: Ummm wow.

7:22 pm LB: Parking now.

7:22 pm CCB: I’m so over it. He better not talk to me.
D-Magic: Not this 3.5 who thinks he’s a 9!

7:28 pm Lloyd Banks strolls through the door; I’m fuming.

I hurl a ticket in his direction and leave him in the dust trying to make my way to the theatre, sending up silent pleas to God for a decent seat. God laughed in my face. We got stuck in the fifth row from the front, all the way to the right side of the theatre. This is how we looked . . . Wall. The 3.5. Me. This is so not cool. He tries to talk to me. I look dead at him and say “don’t say anything to me until the movie is over.” I’m through with him. Except, I’m not done at all because he proceeds to talk through the ENTIRE movie. All 152 minutes of the film. (He’s the reason I had to see the move three more times!)

As we walk out of the theatre he turns to me and asks if I want to grab some dinner. I tell him I cant because I already have plans. And, it’s not a lie. I do have plans. It’s the night before my brothers 21st birthday and I promised to take him out for his first legal shot at midnight. I had plans. I swear I did. But clearly he thought I was trying to blow him off. OK, I was trying to blow him off, a little. I was just so upset because he was my first real date since the Ken fiasco and it turned out to be . . . well a fiasco. And The 3.5 was more than little upset with me because right there in the parking lot he started screaming at me. Saying things like “it’s like that, that’s how it is? I take you out and you’re blowing me off?” (Actually sir, I took you out; I bought the tickets, remember?). I looked him dead in the eye and said, “It’s just like that,” turned and walked away.

I drove home, recounting every gory detail to D-Magic and settled in on the couch to wait for my brother to get in so I could take him out. Sometime around 2:30 am I realized that he still wasn’t home. I’d blown off The 3.5 for my brother and my brother blew me off for The Captain, Jack and Jose. As in Morgan, Daniels and Cuervo. Go figure. As I slipped off the couch, shut out the lights and walked into my bedroom, I realized I’d learned a very, very valuable lesson.

Never date a 3.5 who thinks he’s a 9.

So, my dear readers, what do you think? Was I wrong for blowing the guy off? Was he wrong for acting so crazy on our second date? And what’s your worst date story? And how wrong is D-Magic for christening him “The 3.5?”

Signed,
It’s Just Like That Barbie

* Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

** Don’t ask me the name because I don’t know. Don’t ask me where it is because I don’t know that either. Maybe, one day, I’ll get the courage to text him and ask where he took me. I can imagine how that will go. “He 3.5 it’s CCB, remember when we went out like twice in July? Well, where’s that Mexican spot you took me to?” “Oh this is CCB? Eff you!” Not a good look.

~ by countryclubbarbie on November 25, 2008.