Double Blind Experiments in Dating

Hypothesis (prediction before the date): This should be interesting. Once we got past the volley of mandatory questions, this guy immediately asked me out. Now any normal girl might say slow down, stallion, this is a marathon, not a sprint. But Dr. Jane is after the Experiment, so as far as this marathon is concerned, I just want to show up to the starting line. I of course said yes.

Materials (the guy, the place, any other variables):

• I gathered from the initial mandatory getting-to-know-you questions that he is some kind of business analyst, whatever that means. And he seems quirky, so I’m intrigued.
• We are going to a restaurant that, so far as I can tell, has an identity crisis. It’s pretty popular, but it doesn’t know if it’s a sushi place or a mexican restaurant. And it doesn’t know if it’s a food establishment or a night club. Seriously, this place is confused, and I hope it’s a fun as I hear it is.

Procedures (omg what happened???): Holy mother of all bad dates.

Let’s be clear. It was perhaps the most uncomfortable/ awkward yet simultaneously FUN Experiment I have yet conducted. I imagine this is somewhat like what skydiving would be like: it scares the crap out of you, but WHOAH was it exhilarating with an awesome story.

Ok, so I get there and he’s already at the bar, taking a JAEGER BOM with the bartender. I mean, I’ve heard of liquid courage before a date, but right off the bat that seems excessive. He sees me and gives me a giant bear hug like he’s known me for years, and asks the bartender to get us two more Jaeger bombs. Mind you, I don’t drink Jaeger (unless I am already blacked out… you learn a lot about yourself in college). So I tell him to make mine a car bomb, and I decide then and there that the rest of the night will be beer only because I am not looking to get shithoused on a school night. He switches his to a car bomb and we take them together. Then we have to wait for our table.

Here’s a good time to talk about the restaurant, if we can call it that. Rememebr how I said it didn’t know if it was a cuisine provider or a rave in progress? Well it is, in fact, both. So the music is THUMPING, and the lights are all flashy and here I am at the bar with Mr. I’m-Ready-For-Some-ACTION, trying to figure out how to relate to this guy. He orders ANOTHER COCKTAIL from the bar and I ask for a Saporro. He’s got his arm around me, but it’s in a “we’re bffs from way back, don’t worry about it” kinda way, not a creepy “omg this guy is going to roofie me” kind of way. Don’t worry, though. I was still pretty concerned he might roofie me. One of the first tings he says to me is – and I’m not making this up – “Jane! How the hell have you been!”

Ok, so we finally get seated, and as much adrenaline as my body is producing out of sheer anxiety for this dude and establishment, all I can think about is eating some noms and getting the hell out of there. I mean, I’m 90% certain he snorted an entire 8-ball before he showed up on the date. It was terrifying, and yet, incredibly amusing. I mean, some of the things this guy would say were UNREAL. Like “If legends are made in a factory built by the gods, then I run that factory!” Um, I take a lot of issues with that statement. Let’s list them below:

• You think that somewhere up in the clouds there are multiple deities who have built an industrial compound that manufactures adult human beings who become what society deems worthy of acknowledgement as a “legend.”
• Not all legends are people. A lot of them are allegories. Fables, if you will.
• You are likely drugged out and definitely drunk, yet you think you are capable of managing the output of a factory.
• As cocky and inappropriate as you are, you do not claim to be a god, but rather a man employed by the gods to work a blue-collar position that creates something that you want to be… but you are not yourself one of them…

Ok, I have to stop thinking about it, because I fear I am on the verge of an aneurysm.

We eat sushi and he carries on saying things, 90% of which make no sense. All the while he’s ordering more cocktails, and I stick with the beer. He wants to do sake bombs, but I am just a little too apprehensive to rally that kind of enthusiasm for getting smash-hammered with Captain Obnoxious.  

After we finish eating (the sushi, btw, was alright, but not the amazing I expect – I am a sushi snob, and this was about the lowest grade I would consider eating: fresh, but not fantastic) we head to a bar next door and I tell him I have to use the ladies’ room. LUCKY FOR ME this particular bar is located on the corner, and the “back” is really the other entrance. So I walk straight out of the establishment, hail the first cab I see, and peace out of there as fast as that guy could say “Jane! Where the hell have you been!”

Results (the good, the bad, and the ugly): You cannot possibly fathom the amount of energy that date took. I sincerely felt like I had worked out at the gym while consuming booze. This guy should come with a hazard label. His privileges to date should be revoked until he goes to some rehab meetings AND takes some leveling medication. He was seriously 6 shades of tan and 3 inches of blownout hair away from being a perfect candidate for Jersey Shore. And that is fun to watch, but not fun to experience.

Conclusion (overall rating): Wow, how do I score this? I remember when I turned 18 I went out and got something like 9 piercings in 6 months because I was addicted. There’s something about getting a needle shoved through your skin to make you feel ALIVE. So this was kind of like that. It was definitely painful but almost in a weirdly exciting way. I’m gonna say it was EITHER a 2, OR a 7. I have no way of deciding. But I am glad it’s over.