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.
Narcissism. It’s not a pretty trait in a person. In fact, it goes beyond being simply “not pretty,” to something that mental health professionals regard as an illness. Yes, you narcissists out there, you need some meds and you need them now.
There are many types of narcissists. I’d try to cover them all for you, but as a narcissist myself, I don’t have time to think about things other than myself for more than a few minutes without losing my cool and throwing something that will surely break. I’m dramatic as well.
This week’s Dating Hijinks delves into some twisted narcissists who are not only full of themselves, but are so impressed with their very existence that they’ve created a world in which they’re being stalked — by their own doing. It doesn’t make sense, does it? That’s probably a good thing. If it did make sense, that would make you a narcissist, too, and frankly, we don’t have enough room for more.
The first story comes for Breezy and her hot date with a guy in a cover band… but not just any cover band:
Adam was a friend’s cousin and a serial monogamist. I had never run into him when he wasn’t seriously in love, so the one time I did when he was single I thought it might be fate. We laughed, drank, and seemed to really hit it off. I was floored when he asked for my number. He was late to pick me up for our first date. I was too excited to care since Adam mentioned that he had “planned” the evening for us. What he really meant was that he wanted to get dinner eventually, but first we were going to drive around and listen to his band’s CD.
HIS MAROON 5 COVER BAND.
I swear to God, this actually happened. It was a nice day, so I tried to see this as something different than the old dinner-and-a-movie routine. I later realized he was actually just a compliment-junkie and was trying to milk me for all the praise I could give. After dinner and at least an hour of him telling me how unique and interesting his tattoos were (they weren’t), he wanted to go hang out at my apartment. What can I say? I was an idiot.
After a short make-out session, he began pressuring for more. (If he is pressuring you after you already said no, he is an asshole. DON’T DO IT. Twenty-year old me had not learned this lesson.)
After what seemed like hours of me refusing and him insisting he “wasn’t that guy,” I eventually caved and gave him a handjob. He came on my grandma’s quilt and never called me again.
He was that guy. Ugh.
No one wants to date that guy, especially if he’s in a Maroon 5 cover band of all things. Of course, somewhat naïve 20-year-old Breezy, never saw Adam again.