OK guys, I am pulling a few stories out of my livejournal to see if anyone likes them/hates them/ MEH! / bothers to read them. This first story involved a BAAAAAD date with a guy from, well, Paramus. This is an actual true story. Yup, I get the winners. I feel bad now about the part involving Hunts Point, but also feel as if he got uberdefensive over nothing.
I met him online through migente (www.migente.com, latino-american internet hangout) . I was initially attracted to the fact that he not only had a good job and car, he had diversified interests. In other words, he did not listen only to rap and Reggaeton, but also to rock music. He had even been to a concert at a venue close by (Starland Ballroom). So, we had set a date for Wednesday night.
On Tuesday, I was prompted to call him for directions to Paramus (we're talking the days before I had a GPS in the phone). Also, at the time, I did not know much about Paramus, being that I live an hour away. I had never been to the area before, and wanted to get a feel for what I was getting into that night. When I called him, I asked what I thought was a simple enough question. “What is Paramus like?” He responded by stating he didn’t know. “Oh,” I said. “I thought you lived there.”
“yes, I do.”
“Then what is Paramus like? Is it safe?”
“I dunno. Why are you asking me?
“I am trying to get a feel for the place. What is up there? Anything exciting.”
He said there was nothing exciting up there. I knew there was a mall near the vicinity, and I asked about it. He responded, “yeah, what about it?”
Trying to make the conversation go somewhere, I asked him how it was compared to Hunts Point in the Bronx. He had mentioned he grew up there. He immediately was incensed. “So, what you tryin to say? That I grew up in a poorer neighborhood than you? That I grew up differently?” I was not trying to say anything. I was just trying to ask a simple question.
(looking back on this now, I can see where the wording of the question was bad. I was not trying to assert "white privelidge" into the question, but I did want to know, before the days of knowing about citydata.com, if I could park my car there safely.)
“Ok, so can we at least agree that Hunt’s Point in the Bronx is bad?” He became even angrier. “It is not a bad area. Maybe YOU with your suburbanite family and your pretty houses are not used to the area, but it is not a bad area.” I was not about to defend my upbringing; it was not my fault that my parents wanted me to grow up in a neighborhood without guns firing off every 5 minutes.
“Is Hunts Point anything like Paramus? Can I park my car there and leave it?” “Yes, Paramus is safe, the part we are gonna be in. Does that make you happy?!?”
“Uhhh, yes I suppose.”
At this point I did not want to go on a date with this man. I can already write the story in my head: this man was a successful Latin man who had trouble letting go of his ghetto past. Been there, done that already this summer. Fine, we have little in common when it comes to our upbringing. Let’s focus on what we do have in common, what can bring us together. But, he did not want to hear it. Besides, I was quite broke.
So, after work that night, I was busy counting $$ and decided to call him to break off the date. Why waste my time? After greeting him politely, I made the comment that maybe we should not meet up the next night. “Why not?”
“Well, it is a long ride. I don’t really have the $$ for it right now.”
“I’ll pay your gas.” “Oh, you don’t have to do that, that’s very sweet. But also, tolls. Tolls are expensive.” He wasn’t fooled. “The most you will pay in tolls to get up here from your place is around $2. But, if it makes you feel better, I will pay the tolls.”
Dead silence. I did not know what to say. He was not making this easy to back out of this date. So, I reluctantly agreed to go up there. “I will be leaving my parent’s house around 9:30PM, is that OK? This means I should be there by 10:30PM.”
He agreed. Well, maybe I was wrong, I thought. Maybe I got the wrong impression of him. Maybe he had a wonderful evening planned and this is why he pressured me into still visiting him.
The next night, I left my parents house around 9:30PM. I arrived in Paramus around 10:30. The whole car ride there, I was on the phone with a man I was also interested in seeing. The conversation was a relief. At least I did not feel like it was me that complicated the conversation. When I arrived in Paramus, I met him at the Commerce Bank right off the Garden State Parkway. I followed him back to his apartment in New Rochelle. We drove by 2 fancy restaurants and a whole line of strip malls. Seeing this, was immediately put at eases; he lived in a nice town.
We parked my car in an elementary school parking lot. He wanted to go back to his place, and I insisted we go to the diner instead. Not that I was hungry, but he was not getting anything for free. So, we went to a local diner.
The conversation was equally as awkward. He told me that normally he does not eat this late. He had also mentioned that he recently lost 12 pounds and was going to the gym. He tries to look his best and he expects the same from his women. So, I said, “Is this a warning to me? Get my butt in shape?” He mentioned that he was not as bad as his uncle. Even if the girl is sweet, if she is a bit fat he will not be seen with her in public. I acknowledged that everyone has their own preferences, but at the same time, we are masters of our own fate. He better not complain that he can’t find a good woman if he is going to be so shallow.
So, on the subject of exercise, I had mentioned that I like to go visit various state parks on my time off. I like to walk around and exercise there, when I have time. He does not do that at all; he prefers playing different team sports on weekend. “So, you prefer to exercise socially rather than alone?” I asked. He rebutted, “I could do it either way. I have no preference.” “Oh,” I started, “you had just said you prefer spending your weekends in team sports.” “Yeah, so?” he responded. This went on for about 5 minutes until I completely changed the subject. In my mind, I knew it was hopeless. He was a stalwart; he HAD to be right. His mind frame was rigid. I could have had a better conversation with a Frenchman, considering I flunked French in college.
So, the waitress passes us by one last time. When she went to leave, he asked for the bill, in Spanish. I had let him know that it was very silly of him to assume right away she knew Spanish. Her accent sounded more middle European rather than latin. “Well, what do YOU think she is?” Well, I told him I did not know, that a good guess would be that since all the diners from North Jersey are Greek owned, maybe she was Greek. It turns out that we were both wrong, she was from Romania. When I pointed out we were both wrong, he was not a happy camper.
We went back to his place and watched a little television. From the looks of his apartment, he was either single, moving or just broke up with someone, since he was still very much packed. He made mention that he was going to relax, change into something a little bit more comfortable. He went to change in his bathroom, and I went into the bedroom. I noticed there was a bible sitting on his nightstand, open. I found it fascinating this man read the bible. When he came from the other room, I asked him about it. “No, I don’t read the bible. Why?”
“Well, you have the bible opened up on your night stand. You must have been reading it.”
“No, I wasn’t. WHY?? Does it MATTER?”
At this point I just wanted to go home. But he made it clear that he wanted to try for a little something. Meanwhile, the thought of this man trying to kiss me made me wretch with disgust. No, he did not want to kiss me, but rather, get to the good stuff right away. I politely declined. He got mad, and then rushed me out of his apartment.
When I got to my car, I was so upset I started to tear. I made it clear to him that I was upset about visiting him. I could not believe that I had wasted this much time and effort on a nimrod that could not keep a conversation flowing. Maybe he was better off with an argumentative type. It was at this point I demanded the gas $$.
“You mean to tell me you can’t afford the $5?
“No, I can’t and I should not have to. I visited you at your request, now please give me the gas $$.”
After much prodding and pestering, I got the gas $$. This was the first time I had ever asked a man for gas $$ for a date. But, if the date is that lousy, more than the meal better be for free. And besides, nothing could pay me back for my wasted time.
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