Worst Date Ever

1 Nov

This post is long, long overdue but here it goes. This summer I attended a friend’s event, The Polka Dot Cruise. It was a black and white theme boat ride party full of young, fashionable, party people of the African diaspora. It was here that I’d meet the guy that would take me out on
the worst date ever.

There I was dancing the night away with my group of girlfriends. We were the only ones up dancing because apparently everyone paid their hard earned money to sit around and watch other people have a good time. When I stepped off the dance floor I noticed him noticing me. He was tall, dark, Nigerian and handsome with a perfect double-dimpled smile, just how I like ’em. We connected, danced together through the night, and later exchanged numbers. The next day he calls, we talk and text for ridiculous amounts of time through the week! The chemistry was volcanic! (See what I did there? Get it? Chemistry. Volcanic?) Ok, so the chemistry was explosive! We eventually set a date and agree to meet up in Queens; he’d take me to one of his favorite Nigerian restaurants and we’d do go out and watch game 5 of the NBA finals. Perfect! So far so good, right?

So, there I am in Jamaica, Queens waiting for time to pick me up. He’s like 10 minutes late bandits raining which soon becomes a threat to my perfectly coifed date-ready up-do. Now, anyone who knows me understands that a threat to my hair swagger is enough to take me over the edge. Strike 1! He finally shows up. As soon as I get in the car he’s really weird, not really talking to me, staring at my hair, and just seemingly uncomfortable/shy or something. We pull up to the restaurant and I go to grab my umbrella as not to allow any more kryptonite

rain to ruin what was left of my hair. He asserts, “Why are you getting your umbrella; we’re just taking a few steps to the door?” *side eye, blank stare, and rolled eyes* Did this negro just try to regulate my behavior???? Strike 2. So I sit there contemplating his logic AND my own for a milli-second and came to the delusional conclusion that this was maybe his opportunity to be a gentleman and come over, open the door, and shield me from the

rain. Not so much! He gets out, stands in front of his car then waits for me to get out! Strike mutha effin 3!

We walk to the door and I stand there waiting for him to open it. I swear this dude gave me a look like “Are your hands tied behind your back or something, chick?” You know, the same look that Baby Voice Darius of Awkward Black Girl gives when Jay can’t hear what he’s saying?” Strike 4! He finally gets it and opens the door. We get in, get seated, and review the menu before he commences to disrespect the waitress -Strike 5! He rushes me to order and attempts to order for me-Strike 6 and 7. He begins texting and talking on his phone in his native lingo-Strike 8 and 9. I finally order and watch him continue to text on his phone only taking a break to tell the waitress, “I’m not having anything. I already ate.” O_O- Strike 10. So,…. I eat and watch the game while live tweeting #worstdateever. I make it through his mindless questions and inquisition into my perceived “intensity” and begin to toil over what in the hell did I do to deserve this. This is almost as bad as the dude who invited his girlfriend to our date (Stay tuned for that story).

He pays which shows that he has at least a modicum of class. We get in his car where he continues to engage in an ethnic phone conversation as he drives me to his house??? His empty house he has up for sale??? Strike 1,100! At this point I should have said take me home but I honestly thought dude would have said “Eff you b—–! You can walk home!” And it was in the middle of Queens so I thought I’d just entertain him a bit longer as a way to secure a safe trip back to Harlem. Before we pull up to his house he offers me marijuana. Strikes on a hundred, thousand, TRILLION! He guides me through the yard of his empty, deserted, estate and it hits me! I’m about to be raped, kidnapped, and sold on the Nigerian market! The only way my friends will know what happened to me is if they check those Nigerian scam emails. I text my friend and tell her every detail possible. He notices that I’m uncomfortable and assures me that I’m safe and I was able to calm down a little bit.For the next 30 minutes, we chatted, walked, and he told me a little about his business and aspirations- blazay- blah. This part was actually not bad until it got bad.

I tell him I’m getting tired and asked if he could take me home. Like a true gentleman he obliges but only under one condition, that I DRIVE! He wanted me to drive myself home??!! Is this how they do it in Lagos or something? Excuse me, moment of silence please. Death to any hope I had for my first date in *insert ridiculous amount of time with no dates here*. Death to my fantasy of marrying a Nigerian man and having a traditional Nigerian wedding with the printed hats and dresses. He single-handedly turned me into a racist of sorts? It gets worse. After I go smooth off  on him, he gets in and starts driving….. like a bat out of hell (i.e., 90mph switching lanes)! When I ask him if this is how he chaperones all of his first dates he confidently and maturely replies, “Well, I just like to beat whatever time my GPS says I should get there.”

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5 Responses to “Worst Date Ever”

  1. mommieof3 November 2, 2011 at 7:32 pm #

    OMG. This is great! My fav part…. I just like to beat whatever time my GPS says! LOL

  2. Layla November 3, 2011 at 2:50 pm #

    This guy has such nerve. And I absolutely HATE when people invite you to dinner and then don’t order anything. And don’t even get me started on the texting/talking on the phone during a date thing.
    I want a blog post on the guy who brought his gf on a date though!!!

    • hisandhersinks November 3, 2011 at 2:53 pm #

      Thanks for commenting! That post is coming real soon. I may just start a worst date ever series. Stay tuned

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