The Okie Doke

A while ago, I dragged a friend of mine out to a singles mixer in D.C. to try something new and to meet the so-called "creme de la creme" from the area. And boy, were the pickings. . .slim. Don't get me wrong. I met a number of nice gentlemen, but let's just say that a few of them weren't in my age range. Out of the nine men I dated that night, at least three of them had children my age! Though he didn't look it, one was even a grandfather! No bueno.

No one really interested me during the flow dating portion of the evening, but one extremely fine gentleman named Steve approached me as I was preparing to leave. Just from one glance I could tell that he was an athlete. His body was made for football. He was roughly 6'2, had wide shoulders, big hands and the most adorable face. We exchanged cards, but I wasn't banking on hearing from him, at least not anytime soon. I only imagined how many other cards he had received that night. Surprisingly, he reached out the next day with a call (not a text!). During that hour on the phone, he managed to leave a very good impression on me. Conversation flowed easily and we seemed to have quite a bit in common. He soon asked me out and we made a date for later in the week.

The night of our date, I was uncharacteristically nervous. I hadn't been this nervous even to meet Bryan. I actually wanted to make a good impression on Steve so I applied my makeup perfectly, wore my favorite date dress, and even wore platforms pumps during the week (that's saying a lot for me)!

During dinner it didn't take long for me to realize that this was not the same guy I had such a great conversation with on the phone. The guy I met the previous weekend was confident and sexy. This guy was awkward and a little weird. Fine as all get out, but weird nonetheless. This wasn't going to work. We just weren't clicking. And believe you me, I was trying to keep this sinking ship afloat, but to no avail. Despite my resolve to let this be our first and last date, I decided to make the best of it and make him feel comfortable. As dinner was winding down and as we boxed our chicken and scallops, I had to convince myself that I hadn't actually heard what I knew I just heard. As Steve poured a creamy, off white sauce over his fried rice and scallops, he let out a orgasmic sound followed by "skeet, skeet, skeet, skeet." And just in case I hadn't heard it the first time, he repeated the disgusting act!

The fu*k?!

Keeping my eyes forward, I took a long drink from my glass, pretending not to have witnessed one of the most inappropriate things a man has ever done or said in my presence. I boxed my food and started making my way to the door. This date was officially over. At this point, I was frustrated that my heels wouldn't allow me to run to my car and slam on the gas like I wanted to. I didn't want to be a complete butt crack and just leave, so we stood around for a minute not really saying much.

"Well, I'll be around." Steve finally said to wrap things up. "Thanks for coming out tonight."

"Mmm hmm. Thanks." was all I could reply before giving him a polite hug then scurrying to the driver side door of my car. I got in, changed my shoes and started the car. Looking at myself in the rear view mirror, I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. I had definitely fallen for the okie doke.

I could have had a V8.