DaintyRascalDancing
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Check Please?
🕑 Added 2019-11-27 19:46:45 +0000 UTCDating in the 21st Century.
Open Tinder.
Swipe Yes to almost everyone.
Read hundreds of pickup line messages.
Write down the funny ones.
Respond in Dr. Seuss like poem/riddle and judge potential dates on their ability to respond in a like style.
This is how I met one date, who shall not be named, where I had a delicious dinner at a new fancy restaurant that he suggested. Most of the evening was spent talking about psychology and quantum possibilities of future sciences. We're talked about choosing happiness and fun stuff. I wasn't particularly attracted to him but I enjoyed talking with him. He however, was very obviously smitten with me. He said, "I actually made you something while I was at work.." I ask him what he does for work, because I don't want this gift that will make me feel obligated to give him something back. "Well.. I'm a Nanny..." He knows this is a strange occupation, so he adds, "for extremely gifted children". The check comes and I expect that he will try to pay the whole bill, which I never let men do unless I really really like them, so I throw down enough cash to cover my dish plus a generous tip. He sighs dramatically, and covers his gave with his hands. "When you first sent me your introductory poem about Fall leaves, I knew we were meant to be together. I knew you were my "Sufji" soulmate. (He earlier taught me this is a Middle Eastern religion of free spirited happiness basically). This was not good for then me who found it impossible to disappoint hopefuls to their face. "Oh, thank you, I'm fla-" he cuts me off to continue his gripping soliloquy. "I've searched for you for so long, now to have finally found you.. I just want you to understand how important it was that we come here tonight and enjoy this perfect meal, our first of many.. and that you perfectly understand I couldn't wait.. it had to be here, with you.. tonight.. whatever the cost.. and so what I'm getting at.." he swallows and puts one hand on the check. "Is that.. as a babys- as a mentor for gifted children, my means are humble.. I made you a gift, and I wrote you something special, and that is all I have to give beyond my love and appreciation for you, as you are." I'm actually not sure what he's getting at, is this a marriage proposal on the first date? I am wearing my smiling mask, but I'm horrified and confused inside. He looks down at his empty plate which once held a ribeye steak with mashed sweet potatoes, which happens to be my favorite meal ever, but sadly I knew I couldn't afford the special that night as I needed to save my money for hay and grain for my horses, as always. I was glad he ordered the beet salad as an appetizer, because in my mind, that meant he would surely pay for it. He looks up and searches my eyes for understanding. I clearly do not, my expression is still like, "and then?". He takes a deep breath. "My dear Sufji Suzy, with eyes bluer than a summer sky, with a heart warmer than a winter fire.." His in the moment poetry is not working, I don't like this and I'm ready to be done and go home and delete tinder for the last fucking time!!! Instead he stumbles on, with brain boilingly long pauses between each verse as he grasps for the words to express his desire. "A well of love, so deep........... that it will never run dry! A passionate soul so free........... it cannot be denied!" And he's really heating up now and people are starting to stare because these are tiny tables in a very busy and tiny restaurant of many tiny tables.. "I need you.. my Sufji soulmate.. and... my mom couldn't spare any funds this evening and I don't get paid until next Friday.. so, with knowing that I will take you out in style, my treat, after next Friday, I must humbly request that you take care of tonight's dinner." I am shocked. Why did he order an appetizer!? Why would he order the most expensive special!?! Why!???? This is insane! Im furious. I have barely enough to cover the bill which was around $80, and only $4 left for a tip.. I always tip 20%.. I'm so embarrassed, so annoyed and confused.. I lay down my every last dollar knowing I'll have nothing for hay and grain in the morning, whereas before I had $60 which was enough for a weeks feed for my then two horses. I didn't say anything back. He was very optimistic that I wouldn't mind. Perhaps because my Tinder profile proclaimed I was a successful fashion designer.. In fact, I was a very popular designer, as in I had lots and lots of likes and follows, however, that doesn't make you financially successful, as many of my socially successful, financially failing instafriends will commiserate.. I stood up and gathered my things, not wanting to see the poor waiters face when he found a 5% tip and wondered what he did so wrong.. He takes my hand as we walk out, grinning like he had won the lottery. Like Ella Enchanted, I smiled back, modestly and forced. "Thank you" he whispers as he takes my hand and kisses it. "Come with me, so I may present you your gift.." I imagine it's probably a book and another spoken poem about my eyes. He runs to his car, which is actually his mom's car that he borrowed for tonight, and opens the passenger door and bows to me. I am at an extreme level of discomfort, but in my usual pleasing fashion, courtesy and hop into the car to await my gift. He holds into the driver's side and turns the aftermarket stereo on, but silences the music. "Mood lighting" he whispers. The stereo turns pink to purple to blue and repeats.. He reaches to the back seat and hands me a well wrapped gift box.. The size of a dining glass. "Open it" he smiles encouragingly, staring into my eyes with such unblinking hope that I cannot possibly crush. Inside is.. a doll? A very unusual, hand made pipe cleaner version of me.. It is in black lingerie.. It holds a whip and is wearing a cone bra and high heels. I wonder if this is a joke? Im unsure of how to react to his gift, which is very intricately woven and spiraled pipe cleaners. My blue hair (I had blue hair at the time) is fashioned into a mowhawk, and as I pet the fuzzy mowhawk, he says, "the body is in perfect likeness of your goddess figure, the hair was very difficult and I was going to be late, and the kids were distracting me, i made this at work before I came tonight in anticipation of meeting you. I wasn't you to know.. I See You..." this is a very powerful thing he is saying, to himself. This is a very weird thing to me. I do not see myself as a dominatrix with a whip and mohawk. I don't want to be this for him.. But what I said was, "Thank you, I can tell you put a lot of effort into this." And to avoid making eye contact, I just really inspect the doll (which I still have) and keep my hands busy with touching it, and my eyes busy with looking at it, and my mind busy with wondering how I got into this situation.. Well, because I was high on Tinder and thought it would be great to judge the date worthiness of men on their ability to rhyme.. Nope, don't do that! "One more thing" he is smiling so brightly and laughing to himself in delight. He pulls out a book called "Sufji Wisdom" or something similar to that. I spy many post its marking many pages. He turns to a pink one and reads about the swirling sands and purpose and desire and I'm dying in my seat, wondering if I can go.. or? Then he reads another, and another.. Then he puts his hands over mine, which are still grasping the doll. He plucks the doll from my hands and takes one of my hands and puts it against his chest. "My heart beats for you.." and he leans in for a kiss. I close my mouth and he kind of licks my lips trying to open them, and I just give back a polite peck because I realize I should have just left him at the restaurant, with the check. I should have left him there to do dishes for his raucous bill and I would be home, happily alone right now, but I was too 'polite'? Too afraid to disappoint the rare person that showed hope? Whatever my reasoning, it was my fault that I had this man madly in love with me because of some poetry we texted back and forth, and a little dinner conversation, and I paid his bill, and he said there would be more dates and I didn't say, "no there will not be any more dates", and so here I was trying not to kiss a man who desperately wanted to kiss+ me. In his mom's car. Eventually, I give in to his slobbery tongue and let him kiss me a little deeper (also a mistake, I could have just said, thanks for ther evening, let's say goodnight, but I didn't because past me couldn't put my desires ahead of anyone else) and then he started grabbing my thighs, and I felt a little panic attack coming on. I knew if I didn't do anything i would pass out in a couple minutes. My tongue swelled up, everything was going blue, my hearing was as if I was under water, and he finally noticed I was not doing well. He pulled back for a second and said, "I know, I feel it too.." and went in to kiss me more, and I turned my head and eeked out, "I have to get home". He was disappointed. "Now? Im really busy with work and school for the next few days, but I want to see you every night!" He was like an eager puppy and I hated the idea of crushing that spirit. I tried to pull at the door handle, but I was too weak, and felt drugged (I wasn't, I was just having an anxiety attack). He finally got out and opened my door for me and helped me up. He handed me my doll and wrapped his arm around my waist, "Maybe you'll be more comfortable if we sit in your car?". Noooooooooooo... but I point to my car and we get over there. "I'm sorry I really have to get home." I say meekly. He pushes my against my car door and presses his crotch against me hard, and means down and starts kissing me again. I can feel he has a boner, and I turn my head away. "I'll see you tomorrow" he whispers in my ear and then kisses it. I don't say anything back, I just smile, get in my car, start the engine, and he is still leaning against my car. He motioned for me to roll down my window, but I blow him a kiss instead and start inching forward. He thinks this is funny. I drive away. He texts me many times that night in rhyming poetry. I do not respond. In fact I do not respond ever. He becomes increasingly outraged at my silence and i am increasingly uncomfortable with the whole situation, so i block him. He emails me. It's a looooooonnnggggg email and the gyst of it goes, "I'm moving to Europe to study.. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, i just didn't want you to not see me... i have gotten back together with my ex girlfriend but i still think of you with every passing moment. I understand the time is not right.. yet..."
I don't respond. But i do copy and paste that shit to all my friends. Sorry.
I want to say "lesson learned", but the truth is I continued this awful pattern of people pleasing when I should have spoken the truth for many years. Actually, until earlier this year. That will offend several men readers who are following this account and have dated me and experienced similar situations. Sorry, I led you on, please forgive me. I'm a picky bitch! And maybe I still do that a little bit when people ask me for tracking numbers.. but seriously, your package is on its way! Im working on telling the disappointing truth. Kidding! Just kidding! Everything's good, seriously, it's on its way, just chill, USPS always gets the job done. And also, here it is, I don't have your tracking number because I always misplace my receipts. Ok? So just trust the universe. Thank you.
Comments
B
Good fucking grief. Your stories really give me a perspective.
Nic
I'm so keen for the an audio book version!!!!!!!!!!!
DaintyRascalDancing
I am going to start that as a second tier on Monday =)
DaintyRascalDancing
Yes!
Mr. Jonathan
Oh my god, amazing. Do you still have the doll?
Jason
I would love to see you do a video journal eventually, hear your words in your own voice, that would be a treat!
