Let me see if I can lay out the entire situation for you so it will be clear.
I met this guy for a drink. I met him through a myspace-type site. I tried to give up meeting people online but lets face it- I don't have time to meet people any other way. I'm over-extended and always in a rush. That said, in his photo he looked okay. We exchanged a few notes and he seemed nice, intelligent, blah blah blah.
At the lounge, one of those after work, happy hour hells that I LOATHE, he's waiting for me by the bar...and he's short. Strike one. Not short like 5'4" short, but too short for my 6' height requirement. He's like 5'10" if he stands REALLY STRAIGHT. That dampened my spirits from jump.
Next, when we sat down, I think I noticed a lazy eye. Strike two. Stop laughing, I'm serious. But I was afraid to look right at it in case it was lazy...I didn't want my face to reveal my horror and disgust.
Then he hands me a gift bag with a bottle of perfume. Nice? No. Foul Ball. The bag was probably not from the store where he bought it, if he bought it, and there was no tissue or ribbon. Just a box inside a bag. Kind of like it was a gift he had left over from Christmas. You know, the type of gift someone gave you who didn't really know you...and he tried to pass it on to me, foolishly thinking that A) I'd be flattered and grateful for a re-gifted perfume bottle, B) I'd be impressed that it was a Dolce & Gabbana scent and C) I wear perfume...because I don't.
The final nail in the coffin had to be that his confidence level was lower than mine, and that is not cute. He admitted to being nervous because I was so beautiful, and the pink elephant in the room was that I was way out of his league. But his nervousness did not excuse his goofy, boisterous and coon-like behavior, kind of like Martin Lawrence on speed, or his constant refrain of, "You're so beautiful." Yes, muthafucka, we've established that I am beautiful. Can we please move on? Strike three. You're out!
Needless to say I had my stank face on all night, and even had Jack place the fake emergency phone call to get me out of there...something about N. throwing herself down the stairs...but the kicker is that Shortie Lazy Eye actually thought it went well. And wants to see me again.
How do I put this gently?
HELL TO THE MUTHA-FUCKING NAW!!!
there's a spider spinning cobwebs
from your elbow to the table