MexicanishGuy and I decided to meet up about a week after our first date at a speakeasy in Soho (in London...obviously) called Milk & Honey after discovering that we both love the concept of a speakeasy - even if alcohol and merriment are no longer illegal.
I arrived at the place that Google maps told me to go to, and only found a large wooden warehouse type door and nothing else to indicate that I was in the right place. I waited outside for MexicanishGuy to arrive and when he did, it was like a large round balloon (his head, obviously) floated towards me with pursed lips, closed eyes and that weird hmmm sound - I was almost immediately panicked because what if he really was terrible at kissing and it wasnt that he was drunk or nervous the first time we met!?
I remedied this by dodging his balloon head and giving him my cheek.
We went inside and were seated at what I can only describe as a mushroom table - one, because it was mushroom shaped and two, because it was about the size of a mushroom and very uncomfortable. I think he was as uncomfortable and underwhelmed by the place as I was because he suggested that we leave after the first (mediocre) drink.
I suggested then that we head off to a lovely cocktail bar that Id been to before called SixStorey - it was an old six storey house that had been turned into a multi function restaurant/cocktail bar/event space. We unfortunately walked into the middle of an all girl piss up session and had to deal with some rather noisy birds at the table next door, and as I rarely deal with inconvencience very well, I quickly went from being chatty and pleasant to threatening to body slam ever drunken girl I saw. MexicanishGuy seemed concerned by this - or my well being..Im not sure, but kept trying somehow defend my honour every time one of them came into contact with me. Around the time I progressed to wanting to cut a bitch is when I suggested that we leave. He didnt need to see my turn into my dad on the second date.
The one thing that struck me about the way this guy spoke, which is what had perplexed me during our first date, was how he referred to people: which is to say that he seemed to categorise people by their "mental disorders"...we had previously discussed depression and I had mentioned that I had gone through a period of depression in my twenties and that I had a few friends that suffered from it, and since that moment, he kept referring back to my "previous mental health disorder" and was asking about my "friends with the mental health issues". I was oddly struck by this.
For the third date, he'd invited me to an early dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant in Elephant and Castle (there are no elephants or castles here...only filth and traffic) and, while the food was pretty decent, the conversation....it was otherwise.
He told me a story about his week where he had visited a difficult patient of his and how the relative of his patient has been quite rude to him about something. He told me that she, the relative, had had severe mental issues...again, that odd expression. I asked him what he meant by "severe mental issues" and he told me that the way that she was treating and speaking to him gave him the impression that she had mental issues that she had to deal with. I asked him if he knew if she had been diagnosed and he told me that he didnt know, only that it seemed that this woman was mentally disturbed.
It dawned on me at this point that he had said something similar on the first date about the girl that he took Japanese classes with.
Basically, this dude was taking visceral and emotional reactions that people were having to situations, classing them as "mental health issue" and then speaking about these people as though they had been diagnosed with actual clinical mental disorders.
After processing what was going on and having the disbelief dawn on me, I told him that it was possible for people to have emotional reactions to unpleasant situations without meaning that they have mental issues - he didnt get it.
I didnt get him.
What was worse was that he was a qualified therapist and likely knew better than to run around tacking mental disorders to people when he wasnt actually qualified to do so?
Suffice to say, I was wholly stumped and ready to GTFO.
I had fortunately told him that I didnt have time to spend the entire afternoon with him as I had a previous commitment (I didnt), and so after about an hour and a half, I said that I had to leave, so we paid the bill and walked out of the restaurant. He stepped forward to kiss me and, as he did so, I was overcome with physical repulsion: not only was the mental categorising thing really weird and mildly offensive to humanity, I was now also one hundred percent certain that he was the worst kisser in the history of homo sapiens, so when his balloon head and smacking lips started coming towards me, I basically did an upside donkey (or perhaps a wheel pose if you are a yogi? Or maybe just a full on back bend into a crab-like formation) just to get away from his face, half shouted that I had to go and then turned and ran off towards my bus.
I had been puffing on a vape that day and his parting words to me were "oh okay, well...good luck with the vape...bye"
Ummmm....good luck with my vape? Errr....okay, thanks? What a very random thing to say to someone.
He texted me the next morning at 7am to ask me if I had watched the last episode of Game of Thrones - to which I responded questioning his logic being that it was 7am and I was on the way to work so when exactly would i have watched it - considering it came out in the early hours of the morning UK time. Not only was he a terrible kisser, but apparently, he was not hit with the proverbial logic stick very many times in his life.
I texted him about 3 days after that last interaction and told him that, lovely though he was, I was not feeling the spark and that I thought I was looking for something (anything) else. He responded with something along the same lines and there it was: liberation from having my face sucked into a black hole.
No comments:
Post a Comment