Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Souf Philly Frankie

The infamous date. Everyone has done it. “We'll help you find your perfect match.” I did it once, one and done. More likely than not your not going to find Mr. Perfect on this site. But they have to pay so they must be serious, right? Wrong. So very wrong. Every playboy in the tri-state area is on Match. Trust me, I've dated them. But when you do chose to try this route, the first thing you come across is their picture. The ever-popular shirtless mirror picture screams one night stand. The out of focus from far away picture shouts ugly duckling. And of course there are the maybe she won't notice it was taken 10 years ago photos. Frankie moved pretty quickly- first a wink, then an email, followed by a dinner invite. It's 6 o'clock at night and this asshole is asking me out to dinner for this evening. How rude is he? Of course I agreed. He asked via text where I would like to go. I said I didn't care. I wasn't trying to be indecisive or annoying, I just really didn't care- I'm not picky. He came back in an insisting tone that we go to a steakhouse by him. OK one- he lives 45 minutes away. And two- I have a firm belief that the guy should come to you the first 3 dates. Be a gentleman, is that asking too much? I don't eat steak, but I'm sure they have some chicken dish, I response...then ring ring! Upon answering I am barraged with the rudest hello I have ever heard.What the hell do you mean you don't eat steak?”

who the fuck does this kid think he is? He seemed astounded that I didn't enjoy gnawing on dead carcass. After a half hour Jedi mind tricking this prick, he finally agreed to come to an Italian restaurant near me. We met at 8pm (I don't let any of these crazies know where I live before I deem them...well...uncrazy). I, naturally, was dressed almost at my best (you don't want to overdue it and have some loser stalking your life afterwards when you have zero interest). He, on the other hand, was wearing what appeared to be work pants (he must be a painter), a baggy slob shirt, and a backwards cap. He just rolled out of bed and I spent an hour getting ready. We greeted and got a table. Our waitress almost immediately comes to ask for our drink order. Oh we're not drinking, I have to drive.” he insists.

OK. well there's that. Now I really need a fucking drink. After some introductory conversation I realized what the problem was-he was from South Philly. That would explain the air of douchebaggery that is wafting through the air. The waitress dropped off a plate of oil and fresh bread. Obviously, the animal jumped right in. Within about a minute and thirty-five, he had managed to spill the entire plate onto his already filthy shirt. Seriously, the entire plate. Oh my God. I am so embarrassed! He then yells for the waitress to bring him seltzer. Now she thinks I'm an asshole because I'm on a date with an asshole. God I hope this dinner comes fast. Now in this situation, a normal well-bred human being would dampen his napkin in the seltzer and dab it on the stain. Good ol' Frankie? Not so much. He did attempt a dab or two, but then followed that by a “Fuck this”and proceeded to pour the seltzer onto the stain as he tugged it away from his body. I am not even remotely exaggerating this story. I was dumbfounded. Now I know what “were you raised in a barn?” means. Luckily South Philly Frankie was completely and totally oblivious and continued to rant on about something or other as I sat in total dismay, putting my head down every time the waitress came to check on us. His conversation was far from stimulating, and of course it wouldn't be the same without some offensive comments. How we got on the subject of his ex, I'll never know, but when he started degrading her and referring to her as fat and ugly-i suddenly started to feel as if I were her best friend and he just started attacking her. I almost jumped across the table to show him what a Jersey bitch could do. He had no idea he was being offensive. Luckily I can't keep my mouth shut. What gives you the right to call someone fat? Or ugly? You're a prize? Really?”What? She was, sorry if that” **quote** “offends” **unquote** “you.”You shouldn't talk about women in such a degrading matter.”

I absolutely hate when people (men especially) put women down. A strong, independent woman does not like to think that some douchebag is out there somewhere degrading her to other women.  Awkward silence does not begin to explain the next 7 and a half minutes. Then something happened like I've never seen before. Souf Philly Frankie must have gotten confused and thought he was waiting for his mother to finish cooking. We were sitting across from each other at a table with 4 chairs. He leans back in his chair...raises his grimy-ass sneakers...and places them on the chair next to me. No words can ever describe the look that shot out of my disapproving eyes, similar to that of your parents when you accidentally spill a family secret at Thanksgiving. He yanked them from the chair.Was that bad?”

My whole future flashed before my eyes- I would have to take the storage out of my stove and learn how to cook, I would need to be schooled in scolding, and spend my evenings pressing all of his clothes out for him as if he were a 5 year old. This was not my ideal match. He was a 100% Italian who looked nothing like Pauly D.

Our food finally came, and as he mumbled under his breath how this is “not chicken parmigiana” and “If you want real chicken parm, you come to South Philly... I could show you an amazing little restaurant that's as good as my mother would make it.” No thanks, I'll pass. And I did, I passed on dessert and I passed on another date. This roughneck was not ready for a classy Jersey bitch like myself. 

Peace. Out.

-Kacie J

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