baffled.

a girlfriend called me today to tell me about a guy she recently met. this was then supported by details of what went on in the texting realm and the following day's activities. apparently, a nice and attractive 'southern gentleman' crossed paths with her while she was out for a friday evening bite and some wine with coworkers a few weeks ago. there was some flirting. laughing. she flipped her hair. he had a twinkle in his eye. he asked for her number. she smiled, told him what it was and would you believe after cutesy texting all night he called her the next day and took her out for a sweet lil lunch and made plans for a movie that upcoming week. and that was that. he never called again. sure, she could have pursued it but then who's the chick in the relationship? i mean really. you wanna drive the car, you wanna be the boss, you wanna be the man... so put on some pants and be the man.

according to my girlfriend - that twinkle in said douchebag's eye was "actually just satan pissing all over everything." yowza.

all i wonder is... hey buddy, if all you wanted was a lunch partner then just say it. there is no need to start making plans for movies and ice cream.

now as unfortunate as this is... it reminds me of a loser date i went on this summer.  coincidentally i happened to be at houndstooth pre - josh turner discovery.

i'm out with a group of chicago friends and reuniting with a one, jackie ferrer, in town from nyc. drinks. music. typical houndstooth fist fight out back. etc. etc. and at some point a guy who has been chatting me up asks for my number and goes on and on about getting together. he even took my chicago sweatband (clean) off my wrist and says he will return it when we go on our first date. the next day he calls and has the most adorable idea to go to the driving range and follow up with italian ice. now, i've never swung a golf club in my life so i opt out of part a but i have no problem with part b. and here we go...

he picked me up... on the phone. not a work call. not his mom. just a buddy talking about the weekend. rude. no apology. rude.

 we get to his car and he goes out of his way to announce a rule for the evening:
"since i'm asking you out, i will be treating you today." (ok.)
"but when you ask me out for our 2nd date, it's your treat." (what? eww. who says that?)

we get to the italian ice shop. he literally pushes me out of the way. orders. and then turns to me and says "your turn." 

for the next hour i listened to this fool go on and on about how i couldn't possibly know or appreciate chicago because the neighborhood i live in is too "snooty". he then proceeded to interrogate me as to why i don't hang out in (basically) the 'barrios' of chicago. really dude? really? and then he says, "i get it that you're pretty. that's why i asked you out. (wow, thanks. i'm so flattered by your non-shallowness) but nothing will happen to you when i'm around." oh my knight in shining armor... could it really be you?

[insert epic rolling of the eyes]

my frozen treat is now a soggy mess (lost my appetite on the drive) and this guy has the balls to point out that i didn't finish and not only that, but i didn't offer him any. are you freaking kidding me? 

if you were going to give me shit the entire time we were out... maybe you should have scheduled to meet with you therapist instead of me.

by the way - he never even brought my sweatband back. he talked about how much everyone loved it and wants one too... went as far as asking me when he can get more.

dick.