The Wine Connoisseur pursued me relentlessly on OKC. He waxed poetic about how I was funny yet came across as sophisticated (I'm pretty sure he was reading the wrong profile). He was cultured, he was confident, he was 21!?! I almost fell out of my seat on the train and you do NOT fall down on my train. I'm not exactly opposed to dating younger guys, I mean I get on my own mother for being a cradle robber all the time (hi Dad!). So I guess I shouldn't be so closed off but still, how could this guy be a "connoisseur" - he turned 21 like five minutes ago? This had the potential to be too funny and I just couldn't resist.
There are subtle signs for many San Franciscans that you about to be involved in a bad date. Here are some of mine:
So the date was a bust. I didn't feel too bad, it just taught me that I'm not as much of a snob as my sister makes me out to be. And that is a good feeling, kind of like finding a $20 on the floor of the bus and having it not smell like urine or crack. I was surprised to find a message from the Connoisseur the next day in my OKC account:
"Hey, I'm sorry that it didn't work for us but I wanted to say thanks. Those girls at the table were awesome and each one discreetly slipped me their phone number. Good luck in finding someone at the dive bar!"
Asshole! I mean, awwww, how sweet. I'm glad it all worked out for him but suddenly, I feel the need to have a nice, smoky, robust Cabernet Sauvignon with a hint of....ah, dammit!
There are subtle signs for many San Franciscans that you about to be involved in a bad date. Here are some of mine:
- He wanted me to him meet in the Marina District for wine bar hopping and a nice dinner. The Marina and the Mission are places I will only go to when a good friend prompts me to due to the toxic levels of douche and smug in the atmosphere around these areas (and yes, I have friends who live there who give me just as much shit about my neighborhood,
Asiantownthe Sunset).
- He instructed me to dress like I was going to a "High-Class club". I don't even know what the hell that means. Has this kid even been to the Marina? It's looks like a Tory Birch and North Face commercial exploded.
- Bring my wine knowledge because he is going to "school me". Ok, first of all when did a first date become a competition? Believe me, I've seen enough nature shows (thanks Mom!) to know how to hold my own - I'll just bite his head off. Second, really? I'm old enough to know the simple truth: as a man, your goal is sex as soon as humanly possible. If you think the fastest way into a girl's pants is to prove your superiority in ANYTHING, you need to get used to being alone.
So after much debate, I decided to wear my Drama Major costume - skintight black pants, huge black boots, black tank top and a red scarf (Emo anyone?) and headed to the Marina. The "Wine Connoisseur" was surprisingly good looking and tall (points I guess) but oh so very young. Plus, he looked like he just got off of work as a law intern - this was not looking good. Turns out he was raised on a vineyard in Napa and is a wine marketing manager. He wasn't nearly as douchy or smug in person as he was online. After a pleasant (i.e. boring) dinner we hit Bin 38 so I could get my wino learn on. He seemed to know what he was talking about but I felt more like I was in school than on a date. Every time I tried to steer the conversation to who he was as a person, he would steer it back to wine.
By the time we came to California Wine Merchant (a bar that I actually like but not because I hit on the bartenders every time I go in), the wine was taking it's toll and I was getting frustrated with being treated like I needed help with my homework. I'm fun when I'm drunk but terribly insensitive and I was at the point where my insensitivity chip kicked on, "Seriously, how do you ever get laid if you treat your dates like they're six years old?" My statement seemed to shock the both of us but just made the bartender laugh his ass off (I seriously want to be a bartender for a couple years. I think this job would be amazing for the stories alone). The Connoisseur looked a little hurt, "I'm just trying to impress you, what the hell is wrong with that? Besides, I could go home with any woman in this bar" he said while looking like a defiant child who was just told to clean up his toys. Damnit, I hurt the kid and that ruined my buzz. I immediately felt the need to jump into protector mode. "No no, it's ok. I was being a bitch, I'm sorry. It's just, you don't have to do this. Just be yourself, relax and act like you're talking to someone you just met on the bus". In retrospect I probably sounded condescending but I genuinely felt bad for this kid....until he replied, "I never take the bus!" - and just like that, this date was over.
"Ok, this isn't going to work. I appreciate everything but it's wasted on the wrong woman. I'm someone who orders wine at dive bars for fuck sake!" I said as I tried to pay the bill. Damn bartender was trying to pretend he didn't see me, probably to catch more of the show. I didn't want to ditch the kid so I thought fast. "You said you could go home with anyone, right? How about this, I'll pretend I just left you and see those girls at the table by the door? Go and ask if you can hang out with them. I'll look like a bitch and you'll have a table of women who will be impressed". He gave me a doubting look, "are you sure? I feel bad ditching you. Need cab money?" Damn smug! "No, I'm cool. I like the BUS. Ok, good luck and thanks. You're a classy guy, just ease up on smug and you'll be fine" I said as I finally got my money back from the smirking bartender. He smiled, discreetly shook my hand and said "you're quirky, irreverent and fun. You need a guy to ride the bus with though". Ah yes, that's right. Humor is, say it with me sub-ject-ive.
By the time we came to California Wine Merchant (a bar that I actually like but not because I hit on the bartenders every time I go in), the wine was taking it's toll and I was getting frustrated with being treated like I needed help with my homework. I'm fun when I'm drunk but terribly insensitive and I was at the point where my insensitivity chip kicked on, "Seriously, how do you ever get laid if you treat your dates like they're six years old?" My statement seemed to shock the both of us but just made the bartender laugh his ass off (I seriously want to be a bartender for a couple years. I think this job would be amazing for the stories alone). The Connoisseur looked a little hurt, "I'm just trying to impress you, what the hell is wrong with that? Besides, I could go home with any woman in this bar" he said while looking like a defiant child who was just told to clean up his toys. Damnit, I hurt the kid and that ruined my buzz. I immediately felt the need to jump into protector mode. "No no, it's ok. I was being a bitch, I'm sorry. It's just, you don't have to do this. Just be yourself, relax and act like you're talking to someone you just met on the bus". In retrospect I probably sounded condescending but I genuinely felt bad for this kid....until he replied, "I never take the bus!" - and just like that, this date was over.
"Ok, this isn't going to work. I appreciate everything but it's wasted on the wrong woman. I'm someone who orders wine at dive bars for fuck sake!" I said as I tried to pay the bill. Damn bartender was trying to pretend he didn't see me, probably to catch more of the show. I didn't want to ditch the kid so I thought fast. "You said you could go home with anyone, right? How about this, I'll pretend I just left you and see those girls at the table by the door? Go and ask if you can hang out with them. I'll look like a bitch and you'll have a table of women who will be impressed". He gave me a doubting look, "are you sure? I feel bad ditching you. Need cab money?" Damn smug! "No, I'm cool. I like the BUS. Ok, good luck and thanks. You're a classy guy, just ease up on smug and you'll be fine" I said as I finally got my money back from the smirking bartender. He smiled, discreetly shook my hand and said "you're quirky, irreverent and fun. You need a guy to ride the bus with though". Ah yes, that's right. Humor is, say it with me sub-ject-ive.
So the date was a bust. I didn't feel too bad, it just taught me that I'm not as much of a snob as my sister makes me out to be. And that is a good feeling, kind of like finding a $20 on the floor of the bus and having it not smell like urine or crack. I was surprised to find a message from the Connoisseur the next day in my OKC account:
"Hey, I'm sorry that it didn't work for us but I wanted to say thanks. Those girls at the table were awesome and each one discreetly slipped me their phone number. Good luck in finding someone at the dive bar!"
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