On Wednesdays, Amanda Chatel will be sharing stories about her strange, fascinating and sometimes wonderful dating life. If it makes you want to date, check out TheGloss dating page.
As your submissions come in left and right, I’m doing my best to keep up and respond to all of you. And it’s so much fun! Not only do I get to read your stories (before everyone else), but now I have a whole slew of readers’ email addresses for when I feel like being creepy. Why drunk text an ex, when you can drunk email a devoted reader of TheGloss?
I promise to make sure I use all the stories eventually, so don’t get anxious and start calling me names just because you haven’t seen your story posted yet. It’s coming; I swear. I’m also wondering if ANY OF YOU have a successful date that was practically plucked from a rom-com, or is it simply that the worst stories are actually the best? Thoughts?
This week we have a delightful and, yet again, bizarre collection of dates to share with you. You’re going to love it. LOVE it.
After marrying at 18, and then finding herself divorced by her mid-20′s Colleen Bailey was out on the prowl. Working at a gay bar she’d pick up loads of men like “trophies,” get drunk and proceed to embrace her sexuality. In other words, the gal was getting laid like there was no tomorrow.
It was after one such evening that a gentleman caller actually did call to apologize for getting off on the wrong foot, and suggested a proper date. Colleen, stunned by this move on his part, went for it.
He made lasagna, from scratch. He even made the sauce from scratch, and his whole apartment smelled like an Italian bakery from the garlic bread. He’d laid his small table out for two, covering the surface with a dozen or so tealight candles. A bottle of red wine, a decent vintage. I’d brought dessert.
Holy shit, dude. I was on A Date. A Real Live Date. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had tried to impress me with anything beyond his prowess in bed. My initial skepticism faded and we enjoyed pleasant conversation as we dug into the impressive food. This was nice. This was more than a bar hook-up; there was a connection. We discussed everything, including politics and religion and equal rights. When the candles had burned low and the wine was exhausted, he took my hand, looked deep into my eyes and said, “I want to show you something really special.”
My first thought? But, I’ve already seen your penis… ?
He stood up from his chair and went to a cabinet in the corner, the kind with those smoky glass doors, and took something out of it. It was the Starship Enterprise. An original LEGO VERSION.
And I was torn. Partly because, well, when you’re trying to impress a girl you’re interested in do you really bring out the vintage 80′s toys? The other part of me was silently squealing “HOLY SHIT! THAT’S THE ENTERPRISE!” I reached out for it, because it’s the em-effing Enterprise and… he slapped my hand away.
“No, you can’t touch it. It’s for display only.” He then proceeded to show me every single Lego in his collection, without letting me play with any of them. And when I realized that I was not longing to get him naked, but to somehow trick him into letting me play with the Spock Lego just ONCE, it was time to go.
I still see him in the bar from time to time. The bartenders all know him as the Lego Man, and I’m still trying to forgive myself for not stealing Spock…
Us, too, Colleen. I realize you’re married now, but next time you see that guy you should probably follow him home for Spock. Your husband will understand.