Jenny is 28 years old, works in human resources at an IT company, and lives at Yonge and Eglinton. She says, “I’m outgoing and have a lot of friends, but I’m also anti-social and love staying home—even though I constantly find myself going out.” For fun, she goes for after-work drinks with her crew, plays tennis, and shops on Queen West. She met Chuck through a friend.
A friend’s boyfriend suggested that I meet his friend Chuck, and I agreed. He texted a few days later and asked to take me to dinner. When he came to pick me up, he texted to say his BMW was parked in front of my building. Being slightly superficial, I took this as a good sign.
I felt excited as I rode the elevator down to meet him. Immediately, I spotted the car and was walking towards it, but Chuck still felt the need to honk several times. As soon as I got into the car, I recoiled and almost got back out. Aside from the stench of cologne, he was not attractive: big, bulldog-like, and totally bald.
We had mutual acquaintances, though, so I smiled. Rather than saying hello, Chuck asked me which restaurant we were going to. I told him I assumed he had chosen a place, since he was the one who asked me out. He let out the most awful, annoying laugh I’ve ever heard. It actually sent shivers of disgust through my body.
He chose a cheesy, corporate-type restaurant nearby. After driving around in search of parking for way too long, it took Chuck about 10 attempts before he decided the car was perfectly parked in the spot. I explained that his parking job wasn’t going to be measured by anyone; he expelled that awful laugh again.
I took notice of his outfit while we were walking—a wrinkled dress shirt with a stain on it, wrinkled pants, and scuffed shoes. I was embarrassed to enter the restaurant with him; it was like being out in public with a creepy uncle.
I had to make all of the conversation until the waitress came. Without even asking what I wanted to drink, Chuck ordered the cheapest bottle of red wine on the menu. I told him I wasn’t a fan of red, so he’d be drinking the bottle himself. He replied with that laugh and said, “I’ll get you drunk in no time.”
He then informed me that we’d be skipping appetizers and would split an entrée. I told Chuck that I hadn’t eaten all day, and that it was tacky to share a lower-end main, but he insisted. The server was annoyed. I wanted to crawl under the table.
Chuck took it upon himself to divide the food and, in doing so, gave me the smaller, fattier piece of meat. He shovelled food into his face, and told me that he has “a lot of demands as a man” and expects “his woman” to fulfill them. I had lost my appetite, and when he asked if I was going to eat my food, I said no. Then I had to watch the horror all over again [as he cleaned my plate].
Once he was finished, Chuck started showing me YouTube videos on his phone. I kept telling him I had already seen them, but he didn’t care. When the bill came, he made a big deal of saying it was “his treat” and loudly announced how great his tip was.
He kept trying to put his arm around me as we walked to the car. Between that and the rank wine, I wanted to vomit on his shirt and add another stain. He also made me direct him out of the parking spot. When I finally got home, I sat on my couch and laughed for about an hour.
Jenny rates her date (out of 10): 1
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