On that romantic note I am going to attempt transition to perhaps the most epically bad date I have ever had. Jewpac. Now...you should know that I thought long and hard on how much of this date I wanted to admit to you. There were a lot of moments that were really, really, stupid on my part. I was talking to my friend about the upcoming post. This friend knows the Jewpac story well and asked if I was just going to focus on him or if I was going to admit my crazy parts too. Okay...yes, best to be truthful. So, you will get the un-embellished, full (ish) story.
This date happened the night before Thanksgiving. I was still very new to the online dating scene and really had only been on a few dates, including Dr. Bob. Dave, aka Jewpac, had the wittiest online profile I had ever come across. It was so funny and well written. A little strange but it was really refreshing. He was clearly a writer and seemed like an interesting and fun person. He was 40, no kids, never been married, and seemed to be the change I was craving from the polo wearing, Intel boys I had been dating without any sparks. I had noticed in many of his pictures he wore a bandanna on his head like Tupac, but he was always outdoors in outdoorsy situations or working on cars when he had one on in the picture, so I didn't really think anything of it. Plus he was clearly quirky. I just went with it.
We chatted on the phone once before the date and he completely charmed me by being a little strange, jumping around in conversation and making cute comments about what he was learning about me. (shhh...I know...you will start to see all the little signs that I didn't catch at first. Trust me I know. I know.) He wanted to go out right away and we made a date to meet at a pub, the next night.
I got all dolled up and got to the pub before he did. He walked in wearing what was clearly a vintage seventies navy suit, I think possibly polyester, or some blend of plastics. He had his fingernails painted and was wearing the bandanna in the style of Tupac. Now, I don't necessarily have any issues with any of those things. The combination was interesting though. We hugged and he asked where we wanted to sit. I pointed to a booth in the middle of the restaurant and he turned and pointed to an empty section instead. We went over to the empty section, grabbed a booth, and sat down. We ordered a couple drinks and some stuff to munch on. He was, at that time, explaining to me that he ALWAYS wears the bandanna and that he calls it his Jewpac, because he was Jewish and well...you get it. I remember looking at him going, "All the time?" and he replied, "ALL the time." As the food was placed on the table, he got up and then slid up next to me on my side of the booth. I laughed, a little surprised but he just explained he wanted to smell me. (I know.) But I do have a really nice perfume (TokyoMilk) and in my head that made total sense. I would want to sit next to me.
So there we were sitting side by side, eating, drinking and actually laughing a lot. I was in the middle of a story when I got distracted by the fact that he was looking down in his lap. I then noticed that MY purse was in his lap. I immediately was like, "ummmm...whatcha doing?" as I slowly reached for my purse. He showed me my camera and explained he was going through my pictures. At that point I had one hand on my purse and the other on the camera that was in his hands. I just thought of the situation as one of those charming eccentricities that I was kind of enjoying from him up to that point.I then told him I didn't want him looking at the pictures. Now I wasn't angry, I was actually laughing while I said it and just told him I didn't want him to see those pictures yet and that I wasn't even sure what was on the camera. Next thing I know he is glaring at me, moves back to the other side of the booth and explains he is angry at me. I thought he was joking and after me thinking I was playing along by acting offended, it became clear that he WASN'T joking. I remember at one point saying, "Are you serious?" and he replied, "Yes. You make me feel like a thief. I would never do that to anyone. I don't think this date is going to work out." I was a little dumbfounded and it was then that our fresh drinks had just been put down by the server. He grabbed his drink and then squinted his eyes and examined me in silence for a good minute. I sat there sipping my drink through the little straw as quickly as I could trying to think of how to get the hell out of there. I grabbed my purse and got out some lip gloss to distract myself. As soon as I pulled out the pink, sparkly, lip gloss out and put it on, it was like a trigger had been activated inside of him. It was as though he had decided that I was not worthy of his artistic eccentricities and his uber jewpac hipsterness.
He started his verbal assault. He was firing away questions of coolness at me. Why do you live in the burbs and not downtown? What was the last show I had seen? Do I shop at the Gap? Was I popular in high school? Was I cheerleader? I felt my defenses totally rising and didn't even get a chance to answer him, he was firing the questions so quickly at me. As he continued with his attack, I started to listen to the angry thoughts clustering and swimming in my head. How dare he? He doesn't know me? He has NO IDEA what a dork I was in high school? Then I started to think, so WHAT if I like pink lip gloss?! What IF I was a cheerleader in high school, does that matter?!
Then he really ticked me off. He overheard the band, Of Montreal playing through the speakers at the pub and starting in on my indie music knowledge. Well, that was it. I listen to a lot of great music but at this point didn't think that this douchebag deserved to get to know me anymore. He started to go off on how Of Montreal is one of the greatest bands (they aren't THAT great), then the Sex Pistols came on and he demanded I tell him who was playing. I replied calmly that I didn't know. The bill was being paid and I was scooping up my stuff getting ready to walk out the door. He followed me out the door, yelling at me the entire time. I just kept walking telling him, "I don't know who is playing." I finally got to my car and he was still insisting I tell him who was playing, to just take a guess.
I snapped.
Now... I am not a yeller. I don't find it necessary in fighting. I am usually clever enough when it comes to arguments that I can zing people pretty effectively in a very level tone of voice. However, Jewpac had pushed me to the insane yelling point. I never even yelled at my ex-husband in the worst parts of our divorce. I probably should have, but in other words, it doesn't happen very often. I don't really remember what I said to him. Something about how dare he...who cares what I like...and by the way I like Britney Spears and oh...it was THE SEX PISTOLS PLAYING!! A few more things along those lines, with some pretty foul language mixed in, all spewing from my sparkly, pink lips. I started to come to, peering out of my fog of crazy anger, and noticed out of the corner of my eye a small crowd of people had gathered to listen to our fight and then I focused on Dave (aka Jewpac) and saw he had a big smile on his face. I stopped right in the middle of whatever I was saying and yelled, "What?!" He spoke softly and said, "That's all I wanted to know. The Sex Pistols." Then he grabbed me and kissed me. Of course I was shocked. Then......I kind of...ummm... kissedhimback. Yes..I kissed back. (HEY! I hadn't had a good kiss from anyone in awhile so...CUT ME SOME SLACK)
We didn't kiss for long, but it did shut us both up long enough for the little crowd that was watching us to get bored,NOT call the cops and go along their separate ways. When we stopped kissing, I stepped away from him and in a daze of..what just happened here?!, said to him, "Okay, well...Happy Thanksgiving. Hope your brisket turns out. The kissing was nice but I don't really think this is going to work out." He just smiled, shrugged his shoulders and said goodnight.
I was so relieved to get home. It was at that moment of false security that I realized my cell-phone was missing. I had my work blackberry at the time, so I called my phone from my work phone about a dozen times. I called the pub, drove back and looked all around for it. It was gone. I went back home pretty deflated about the missing phone and the crazy date I had just been on. I called my phone one last time and this time someone picked up. It was Jewpac. He answered tentatively and then goes, "It's the strangest thing, I don't know how your phone got in my coat pocket. But I would be happy to meet up for a second date and give it to you." I died.
We made arrangements to meet up right away. He showed up, this time in a full length fur coat and women's pajamas. Maybe they weren't women's pjs you say??? Nope. Because when I saw him I immediately said, "Dave...are you wearing women's pajamas?" and he replied, "Yes, I am." (uh-huh) I took the phone from his hand, shaking my head and finally around 3:00 AM, my date was over.
I still hear from Jewpac every now and then. At one point, about a month after the date, he informed me that he was writing a book and that he acted that way for material and asked me if I was interested in going out again. I declined. I do enjoy his sporadic emails though, he's a pretty entertaining writer.
NOT Jewpac.
(Oh...and when I googled "JewPac"...a picture of Aunt Becky came up from Full House. Huh.)
