Muldo

Note:  This was originally written for my friend Talia’s website, Three Day Rule.  It’s the place to go for dating advice.

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A while back I tried internet dating on E-Harmony.  I wasn’t getting a lot of tail and figured it couldn’t hurt.  I was wrong, as E-harmony led me to the most painful date of my life.

I matched up with a lucky lady during the holiday season.  She looked pretty cute, and she didn’t use the fat girl angle in her photos, so we arranged a meeting at The Grove.

Eating this guy's butt was more pleasant than my date with shiny girl.

I waited at the spot of our rendezvous as a girl who resembled my date approached.  Her face reflected the bright holiday lights of The Grove,  like an icy sidewalk next to a department store window.  She introduced herself as I shook her hand and smiled, my thoughts consumed with the shiniest face I’d ever seen.

Why the shine?  A bad facial? An unorthodox blackhead cleaner?  Did she get a huge

cut and have to cover her entire face with liquid Band-Aid?  I never found out.

We grabbed crepes at the Farmers Market.   The conversation was lively enough for a first date.  Things were quickly derailed when I mentioned that I didn’t have cable and that I watched TV online.  This was around the time of the Writer’s Strike, and it prompted her to freak out on me for daring to watch shows on the internet, since ”

that’s what this whole strike thing is about.”  I calmly gave her the correct information and explained why she was wrong.  She couldn’t comprehend this and the subject was quickly changed.

We finished our crepes and deliberated what to do next.  I wanted to go to a bar for drinks so we could continue the conversation.  She wanted to see a movie.  I objected on the grounds that you can’t have a conversation during a movie.  It’s a horrible

place for a first date.  She wouldn’t relent.

At this point, I knew I’d never see her again, but lacking the balls to end the date early, I agreed to the movie.  With one amendment, I thought to myself:  There’s no way in hell I’m paying for her ticket.

She chose the craptastic Christmas movie “Fred Claus,” making my night even more miserable.  I allowed her ahead of me in the ticket line, making her purchase her ticket separately.  Before you think I’m cheap, know that I paid for dinner and was prepared to pay for the bar tab.  When she insisted on a movie, I cut my losses.

She revealed another annoying trait walking through the theater that was worse than the shininess of her face:  Squealing like a school girl after passing a movie poster that interested her, or seeing an actor she liked.  This behavior continued during the movie, when her throat squeaked with excitement upon the entrance of every well-known actor in the film.

We promptly walked back to our cars after the film.  Being a gentleman to the end, I asked her which floor her car was parked, intending to walk her to her vehicle.  She said five.  I told her I was parked on seven.  She got in the elevator and pressed the buttons for the fifth and seventh floors.

The doors parted and we said a quick goodbye.  I was relieved that the date was over and that I no longer had to squint my eyes.  I got to my car and drove to the Powerhouse in Hollywood for some beers with friends.  The only way to cope with my night was by dulling the pain with alcohol.

It was the worst date of my life.  She nearly ruined my Christmas and her shiny face will forever be scorched into my dreams.