H and the Teeth

My friend H recently had two dates with a guy we came to call "Christian Bale Guy." If only this was true. I'm writing her story because it's just too funny not to put out into the universe. So here goes.

H met this guy on OKCupid. Go figure. When looking through his pictures, we decided that he was cute, and in one of them he even looked like Christian Bale! So, of course, she decided to go out with him. Below, I will recall the conversation to the best of my ability.

Me: "So how was the date?"
H: "Meh. We had fun and we laughed and everything. I dunno."
Me: "Did he pay?"
H: "Ya."
Me: "Was he cute?"
H: "I think so."
Me: "You think so?"
H: "Well it was really dark in the bar and...I dunno...I just need to see him again to decide."
Me: "Ok."

PAUSE

Me: "What are you not telling me?"
H: "Ok, don't tell anyone this....but.....I don't know, I think he may have had some sort of...tooth thing."
Me: "A tooth thing?" (At this point I'm holding back my laughter. H is very...particular.)
H: "Ya, like you know people that have fake teeth?"

I stare at her blankly.

H: "Well, I just need to see him again to be sure. I couldn't tell if maybe there was something going on there."

At this point I'm laughing hysterically. We both go through her pictures of him again, making sure to closely examine the teeth- all of which look normal.

Cut to the second date. She decides, against my brilliant advice, to meet him at 10:30pm on a Friday night at a bar that is "more divey" (his words!) than the first. I told her that this was a booty call. 10:30 for a second date? No way. But she went anyway.

He seemed ok when she got there. Conversation was flowing, as was the whiskey. Each of them had the same amount of drinks, but somewhere along the way H noticed that Christian Bale Guy was very heavily intoxicated, much more than her. And, even more horrifying than an obnoxious drunk, the guy COULDN'T REMEMBER HER NAME! She kept asking him if he knew it, even at one point screaming, "Bastian! Call my name!" (fellow nerds unite please) but yet he couldn't come up with it. One might ask why he didn't just go to the bathroom and look at her number in his phone, but either way it was pretty bad. On top of his memory lapse, he kept trying to make out with her in the middle of the bar! (Did I call that one or what?) She said she was pushing him off her and he was belligerent. Plastered, as my mom would call it. Towards the end of the night she got fed up (don't ask me why she didn't leave once she discovered he didn't know her name) and told him she was going home. He had the nerve to ask if he could come with her. If it was me I would have laughed in his face.

Once home, she continued to receive nonsensical texts from him. The next day, as she was explaining the story to me while we walked the loop in the park, he even texted her asking if she could get him Nick Jonas tickets. Hmmm....this lad is not very clever.

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, another bad date in Manhattan. It seems these monsters are lurking around every corner, just waiting to drunkenly humiliate us or forget our names.

I wonder what they must think of us.....

Oh, and I hope we can all see that the lesson to take away from today's post is: never accept an invitation to a "booty call date." Or agree to go to a "more-divey" establishment. Really boys, please try to impress us at least on the first 5 dates.