Me: "Huh? Why? It's a good job."
Friend: "Oh, I know...but people think that all accountants are boring and I don't want to be stereotyped."
Me: "I think YOU are the only accountant I know that's an exception to the stereotype. I went out with an accountant once."
Friend: "Was he a tax accountant?"
Me: "Yeah."
Friend: "And how was it?"
Me: "So..."
...luckily, one of my best friends in the whole wide world "was in a situation" and "needed me to come over." You can subtract a couple of karma points on this one.
Let me back it up a little. When I started to date on-line, I used Craigslist.* I have absolutely no tolerance for stupid people who don't know the difference between there, their and they're, so when I saw an ad that was written in proper English, with proper punctuation I kinda got a little excited and reached out to this person. He was a small business tax accountant. We emailed for a bit making small talk until he finally asked me out on a date a couple of days later. I didn't expect him to bust out reservations to one of the fanciest places in town - and that is exactly what he did! To say that I was impressed was an understatement. Maybe I ended up roping the mother load!!!
It felt wonderful to dress up in nice clothes and killer heels in anticipation of a wonderful dinner prepared by one of the hottest chefs in town. I checked my coat and walked over to the bar, where I scanned all of the people in the room, looking for the man who would be my date for the evening. Who was sitting alone, looking at their phone waiting for me to respond to their last text? From my viewpoint, I had two available options...a nice looking gentleman in a business suit with a flashy tie and nicely polished shoes or a very plain, tall, dorky fella in need of haircut and an overall makeover. I can only hope that I did a sufficient job of hiding the look on my face when the giant dork caught my eye and waved. And so began my evening with the Accountant.
I have to say, it wasn't all that bad. He offered up his seat at the bar, like a true gentleman and flagged the bar tender over to take my drink order. Paid for my beverage. When our table was ready, he took out my seat and ordered a fantastic bottle of wine to go with dinner. The conversation was relaxed and easy, and then I made a joke. The laugh that came from the person sitting in front of me made me want to run for the high hills! I was not only loud, but had this quality of being high pitched, nasal'y and throat'y all at the same time. I was literally the kind of laugh that makes you cringe from the inside-out. I nervously chuckled, looked around the room to see that people's heads had actually turned and realized that this extreme laugh would take this guy down a long road of lonely unhappiness.
Laughing is like peeing. Once the seal is broken...
As the laughing Accountant grew more and more comfortable with me, the laugh grew louder and even more obnoxious to the point where I couldn't even look this guy in the face anymore! It didn't help that every single time I locked eyes with someone else in that room, they mouthed the words "Oh My God" to me! (OK - only one person actually did that, but still!) I even tried to approach the subject by mentioning that his laugh was very distinct and loud and that others in the restaurant were giving us looks - but dude didn't get the hint.
Dinner finally ended, after what seemed like hours, and I refused his offer to get a nightcap saying that I had to wake up early in the morning for work. He walked me to my car and of course, leaned in for a kiss. Playing defense, I moved a little to the left and offered up my cheek to his aggressive lips, then like Speedy Gonzalez, found my keys, hopped into my car and zoomed away!
Friend: "That date is no where near as bad as what you hinted it would be."
Me: "Yeah...I have no idea why, but I agreed to a second date."
Friend: "What?!"
Me: "I really have no explanation. Don't judge me."
Friend: "Too late."
A couple of days later, the laughing Accountant called my cell phone while I was walking out the door. I saw the first name, thought it was someone else - a very hot, single fireman that I had seen a month prior, and answered it with a very exuberant "Well hello there handsome!" I could practically hear the panting on the other end of the phone. Fuck. Excuses started entering in head in lightning speed. Family party, work function, death in the family, drinks with an old friend, gotta wash my hair...and I couldn't do it. He asked if I wanted to go to a hockey game and I said yes.
And you know what? I tried to make the most of it, I really did. I showed up on time and didn't run away when he went to go buy the tickets. (The thought did enter my mind, don't get me wrong.) He suggested that we pre-game at the local watering hole, and of course I was all about that. A little beer goes a long way. Women have beer goggles too! We go into the bar, sit down and order a drink when he drops a bomb on me...
"I can't wait to introduce you to my friends. They'll be here any minute."
What?! Wait!!! Back up and rewind.
This is a (sympathy) second date! You don't introduce anyone on a second date! And, then they arrived...a whole group of single nerds, minus one semi-decent looking guy. (I can't really be sure if he was actually semi-decent looking, because anyone who didn't look like they should wear a pocket protector would probably look hot next to this crowd.) It was that bad. Imagine my *surprise* when I found out that I would be the only girl in this group. Can you believe that none of these guys had a girlfriend? Yeah...me either. I also caught several of them looking at my boobs.
The introductions shed a lot of light on how the laughing Accountant thought of our relationship. "I'd like you guys to meet my girlfriend." Haha, not a chance buddy...right here, right now I am totally going to bust your bubble. "I'm not his girlfriend. We just met 3 days ago." I guess I was expecting a look of stunning realization, but it didn't happen. Oh my god...he thinks I'm his girlfriend. Oh my god...he's going to put his arm around me and try to kiss me in front of his friends. I drank my beer faster than I ever have in my entire life and luckily was able to get another one in a plastic cup to take with me into the arena for the game.
I wanted to get out of there so badly, I can't even explain it. Leaving before the game would look intentional - and even though I can be a big twat, I didn't want to hurt his feelings too much...I mean, the guy was nice and all. There had to be a way to let him down nicely. The whole nerd posse and I took our seats right in front of the glass in the arena. I was flanked between the semi-decent looking nerd and the laughing Accountant and kind of ended up positioning myself so that I was leaning towards the semi-decent looking nerd. Lucky for me, the laughing Accountant noticed that I was out of beer again (sometimes I think I may have a drinking problem), and jumped up to get me a refill. Um...thanks. At this rate, I'll be wasted by the end of the first period. I took that opportunity to think about my get-a-way plan and to flirt a little with the semi-decent nerd, who admitted that he hated hockey and was dragged to the game so that he could meet the laughing Accountant's new girlfriend. Seriously. That pretty much solidified the need for an escape plan...and the need was urgent.
The first period of the game was horrible. Not only did the laughing Accountant, well...laugh, but he was obviously not a hockey fan (or probably sports fan in general) and kept trying to chat it up with me, and because my head was turned trying to follow the action, he felt the need to get very close. And, that's when I smelled his breath, which was previously masked with distance. The smell was so bad that it made me gag twice. And for those who know me, know that I have a horrible gag reflex. I worked very hard not to toss my cookies and should actually get an award for that! I finally had to make a joke about wanting to watch the game and that we could commence such chatter during intermission, if I made it that long.
My mind was racing...who can I send to the hospital for the night? Will karma bite my ass hard for this? Do I care? I mean, I'm trying to get out of this date without being so in his face about it so that his friends don't think that he's a big(ger) loser than them. That makes me nice, right? Yes...that's what we're going with. In the end, I decided that no one would be taking a fake trip to the hospital, but that I would be getting a very urgent call of help from one of my best friends. At the end of the first intermission, when the laughing Accountant excused himself to go to the restroom, I texted my friend and told her to call me in about 5 minutes because I needed a rescue. As perfect as timing could be, my phone rang just as he returned to our seats.
Me: "Are you OK?"
Rescuer: "Yeah."
Me: "Oh no! I'm on a date. But don't worry...no...I'll pick you up. Are you sure you're alright though?"
Rescuer: "He's that bad?"
Me: "I'm leaving now and will be there in a couple of minutes. Hang tight."
Rescuer: "You're going to hell."
There was no need for a prolonged explanation...he heard that I had a friend in trouble. He was very concerned - more so than I thought he would be - and offered to walk me to my car. I calmed him down (ha!) and told him to enjoy the rest of the game and that we would be in touch.** With a new-found stride in my step, I practically skipped up the stairs of the arena a free girl again!
Me: "I'm still coming over, you know."
Rescuer: "I've already opened up a bottle of wine for us."
*Admittedly, Craigslist is creepy. I started using it when I was apartment shopping, and then I discovered the underbelly of gay penis. I can't believe that men post their junk on an internet site that is open to everyone and their mother, and the pictures includes their face! I also want to thank all of my friends for watching "The Craigslist Killer" and being worried about my well-being. I (almost) always text a friend with the name of my date and any identifying information about them, as well as the place we are meeting up in case I ever go missing.
**The laughing Accountant did call later that night and left a message for me on my voice mail, which I never returned. I'm pretty sure that he was able to see through my facade since I'm a horrible liar.
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