Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Little Man Tate

Meeting someone on a social networking site is not my ideal place for finding the love of my life.  But when Little Man Tate (prior to our actual first date I called him by his real name, whatever that was) contacted me because he knew someone who knew someone etc...whatever he seemed cool, I was single, fine i'll go out with you.

I actually arrived early to our dinner/drinks date.  As I waited in the lobby of our local sports bar, I gazed out the window at the few single men entering the building. Maybe that's him?....Nope....Oh he's fine, please please....Nope. My daydreaming was suddenly interrupted by a loud, very obnoxious car driven by some douchebag who just had to park backwards into the nearest spot. OK first of all- yes there are times when backing in is necessary or convenient but honestly most of the time you are just annoying everyone around you. Second of all- you think I'm impressed with your“oh so cool”car. No. Sorry, but no. Fast car, big muscles, little dick. We get it. Its called overcompensation. Everyone sees it but you.

Well as God would have it (he just loves  to play jokes on me), Mr. Douchebag was, yes you guessed it, my date.  

As he walks in and spots me he says “Hi! Christine?”Um no, its Kacie”

We had only been conversing for a few weeks and in his defense my name only popped up on every email we exchanged, but OK he's just nervous.  

Now this is where the name comes into play. This kid was so tiny that I swear to gawd when we sat at the bar, he had to hop up on the stool. Swear. Also, I'm a little perplexed by his appearance. The guy I had seen in the pictures was a tall, dark-haired, sexy soccer player.  Not this red-headed step child with freckles and a height complex!  Maybe I didn't look closely enough at the pictures?  

The date continued. As he nervously chatted with his hands- I got to staring at them.  Wait...hmmmm...yep...they're smaller than mine. Fan-tas-tic. Little Man Tate is starting to strongly resemble a Chuckie doll with seemingly a penis the size of a miniature golf pencil. Chug your fucking beer and be out.I told you I have dinner plans with my father at 7:30, right?” Who can argue with that?! “Oh I didn't? I'm so sorry! But I do have to go.”

And I was gone.  Was that the end of LMT? Sadly, no. You see-when people are persistent I start to feel bad and so I get guilted into a second date even though I know it will be the last.  I feel like its only right that these poor guys get a second chance at a first impression.  

So I invited him to a party I was throwing.  He brought a friend, a six-pack of beer, and apparently- his man boobs.  My best friend at the time was a guy who was pretty much always drunk so getting him to stifle his laughter as he shook LMT's hand (and coincidentally his boobs) was a task unto itself. Now in case you're wondering- the moobs hadn't been out on the first date so it must have been the bright yellow shirt he was sporting this evening that really showed them off.

He stayed for about an hour, they got along with everyone, and overall it went pretty well (not going out again well, but well enough).  You're waiting for the kicker right?  Yeah. Well at the beginning of the party when people were coming in with beer and alcohol, my friend had broken up the boxes and thrown them in the trash.  My living room connects to my kitchen, so when LMT creeped into my kitchen- the entire party was able to see what he was doing.  This little freckle-fuck goes into the kitchen, takes his 4 (FOUR!) beers out of my fridge, looks around for his box, sees it was thrown away, resets the box and puts his FOUR beers back in to take them home with him.  We all are watching  him out of the corner of our eyes and exchanging the “Seriously?” look. 

Then the bottom falls out and all the bottles crash to the floor with a loud Clang!


Everyone just sat there in silence, nodding and waving goodbye, until the front door was shut securely behind them.  Then the room erupted in the most uproarious laughter that only a group of drunken fools could muster.  Who DOES that?!” “Who takes four lousy beers back?!”

Needless to say, we did not go out again.  I did, however, mention this story in passing to some girlfriends- one of which turned out went to high school with him and when I pulled up his profile on the SNS, was shocked to hear that Little Man Tate was in fact, NOT they guy in the pictures.  No, apparently that was his all-star brother. Yep. Believe it.


-Kacie J

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