Will the Real Douche-Bag Please Stand Up

 

A gal pal of mine recently set me up on a blind date.  She said, “This guy is great, I promise.”  He is a PhD, loves animals, and has been divorced for over 10 years.”  She went on to say that he is 55 and tallish.  I agreed that she could give him my phone number.  After several weeks, he called and we had a pleasant enough conversation.  Although, he was clearly displeased that I live 70 miles away….I consider that a bonus, but that’s me.

We spoke on the phone a few more times and eventually set up a lunch date.  He picked a restaurant about 3 minutes from his house.  I arrived a few minutes early and selected a cozy table outside.  Twenty minutes later we were sitting across from one another.  He was plain in a good sort of way.   He was nice and polite, shortish (which was fine.)  However I found myself distracted by his smile.  He had really old style caps on his front teeth.  Not exactly the kind of thing to point out to someone for fear of hurting their feeling, but there they were, gray trimmed little chick-lets.  If he hasn’t pointed out his great success and wealth, I might have felt even thinking such a thing was less than rude but surely he could have updated his smile.

We spent the first hours talking about the normal stuff, kids, aging parents, likes and dislikes, his real age (67) and so on.   No major red flags…………..yet.  Following lunch, he insisted on taking me to his private club, a secret cigar bar.  So secret that only the elite of the elite are invited to join.   It was less than impressive.  A few men on computers, others puffing on Cuban cigars in secluded corners.  We sat on one of the blue velveteen love seats against the wall.  There was one other gal  sitting smack dab at a center table with her date.    At least I think she was a gal.  A curvaceous woman with heavily painted makeup, her breasts spilling out of her blouse.  She was gorgeous, much like a blonde Jessica Rabbit, bigger than life, bomb shell, not intended to go unnoticed.   In regards to the sexy chick-a -dee, my date stated that albeit her occupation my be in question, she is super smart and speaks many languages.   Good information, a smart call girl, who knew?

Once he was in his in his comfortable, familiar surroundings he opened up.   He dropped several celebrity names.  Claimed his best friend is Marla Maples and he has the real skinny on Donald Trump.  I asked what in particular.  He said, Donald Trump was married when he met Marla!  I laughed to myself as it occurred to me that he must think I am either really stupid or much younger…..I’ll take much younger.   I asked if Marla was completely clueless as to Trump’s marital status at the time.  He gave me a dead pan stare and did not reply.  Next, he shared another Donald Trump tale.  Apparently, Chris Christie’s office called him to invite him to Washington DC for an interview to possibly be on the *Drug Crisis Commission.   Now, I must confess, he got my attention and I was impressed.  A room was waiting for him at Trump Tower.  He said that all the employees were ethnic from the administrators to the maids and all in-between.   He mused at the horribleness to put these people in servitude positions.  I asked if they were in the country illegally.  No, all Americans was the response.  I mentioned that many Colleges and Universities have degree programs in Hotel Hospitality.   He missed my point and was determined to see it as negative.   I politely asked if we could not talk about anything remotely political?  Before I knew it, he launched into a diatribe about the Commission interview.  He claimed he had not been vetted at all (how would he know?), he claimed to have met privately, one on one with Ivanka, without any security nearby only to be told by Ivanka herself that Chris Christie did not want anyone on the Commission that was smarter than himself…………..thus, due to my cigar puffing fellow’s high intelligence and vast knowledge of Drugs, he had no other choice but to turned down the opportunity.

I was at the end of my tether by this point.   While he was in the restroom, I texted my mom,”This guy is a Creeper Douche-Bag!”   The second I hit send, I realized that I had not sent the text to my mom at all……………..BUT TO HIM!!!!   As he was walking towards me, I could see him reading the text.  He must have thought, I was referring to someone else, at least at first because like before he was expressionless.  I have heard of people accidentally sending a text messages to the wrong person, but this was a first for me.  I was horrified at my blunder.

Once he figured out the text message was in reference to him, our date soon ended.  Happily, I might add.  At the end, I view it as a blessing in disguise.  No secret as to my sentiments.

Note to self:  Don’t date and text

Leslie Birkland

*Not the name of the Commission