What an Ass!

Although I believe I was born an artist, I was convinced to take Chemistry and Physics in High School to help with my career. I didn’t become a scientist, but I did take my passion for experiments and analysis into adulthood. I’m sure many of you will agree, that Internet Dating can be likened to experimenting.

Some dates are interesting and take a bit longer than a coffee to conclude on the results. Some never go anywhere, but gee they are funny. Some are boring and you find it hard to stay awake. And some are just toxic!

One thing my dates all had in common was their build. They were always athletic. That was, according to their profiles. I’d love to hear from other women to know if you’ve had the same experience and how many of these guys actually were athletic.

I can’t resist but to share with you my date with …. Let’s call him, Mr. Ass!

We arranged to meet in the foyer of my local Cinemas. As I approached the cinema doors, I saw a man watching me closely from across the road. Since he was standing outside McDonalds and didn’t look like the picture I had seen, I kept walking and entered the front doors into an empty foyer. That was unexpected as he had just called my mobile and should’ve reached the cinema before me.

I turned as I heard the doors open behind me. “Annette?” the man asked. “Yes. Are you Mr. Ass?” (Of course I used his real name when on the date)

With an arrogant smirk, he said, “I was watching you cross the road and was hoping that was you. If you weren’t hot, I was going to walk away.”

Whooa! What a first impression! And what was with the smirk? Was he that arrogant that he didn’t realise that I was the opposite of impressed. But wait, there’s more!

At dinner we talked about internet dating. I listened to the attitude of this man, who had been playing the internet game for a while. “Most women say they’re slim but they’re really overweight, but you said you were average but you’re actually slim,” he said. “I think of slim as skinny and I’m not skinny,” I replied, while thinking that this beefy overweight guy had called himself athletic. What a hypocrite! “So, what’s your nationality?” he asked. “Australian,” I answered. “No. Come on. Really. What’s your nationality?” he asked a second time as if I was joking. “I’m Australian. I was born here. Do you mean to ask what my heritage is?” I asked. His arrogance was annoying me. “Oh yeah, that’s what I meant,” he said. “Guess?” I said. He appeared bewildered.

He was docile as well as arrogant! After guessing a few countries and continents, I offered some assistance. “Ok. How well do you know your map of the world?” I asked. “I’m alright with it, I guess,” he answered. “So if you sailed all the way down the Mediterranean and reached the end, what country is at the end?” I asked. “Turkey?” “That’s not the end. That’s more on the north side really. I meant all the way to the end.” “Egypt?” he guessed. “That’s more on the southern side. Think of the map of the world. Think of the Mediterranean. Now what’s at the end of it?” “Well there’s Greece and Turkey and Egypt,” he said looking up trying to access his memory. “The end. Not north or south, I laughed looking up from my menu. He actually had a blank look on his face. It was the perfect expression for “The Lights are on but nobody is home! poster” “Don’t you know your map of the world?” I asked. “Obviously not too well,” he said. “Ok. I’ll give you another clue. This country used to be called Phoenicia,” I said, knowing he’d never know the answer. “When?” “In ancient times.” Yes, I was having fun at his expense. Naughty me! “Oh you can’t do that to me,” he seemed concerned. “Well, I was born here. My parents were born in Lebanon and came to Australia in the 1950s and my dad’s ancestors apparently came from a part of Russia,” I answered. “Wow.” “So what is your heritage?” I asked. “Oh, I’m Australian,” he said with a confused expression on his face. “But what’s your heritage?” I asked. “Australian,” he answered, still confused. “So you’re Aboriginal then?” I don’t think he had any idea that I was being smug and clearly couldn’t read the signs of how disinterested I was. “No,” he said. “Well, white folk have only been here for just over two hundred years. Where did your family migrate from?” I asked.

The expression on his face changed as he realised that his ancestral line were also migrants and that his confusion was naive and his line of questioning was racist. He thought for a minute before answering. “Well, my father’s father was English and my dad’s mother was – well I don’t know. I really don’t know where all my other grandparents were born. All I know is that both of my parents were born here.” “That’s sad. No known heritage. Like a poor homeless man,” I said.

His opinions, attitudes and self image did nothing to improve my first impression. By the end of dinner, I realised coffee would be better for a first date with this boy! (the word man has been substituted for evolutionary reasons).

When I excused myself to go the bathroom, I thought of crawling out the window after he said, “Great. Now I get to check out your ass.”

As I was in a local restaurant and didn’t want to cause any embarrassment to myself, I let this ass pay for the meal, then told him I had to go. Once away from the restaurant, I excused myself then zigzagged home.

There were many lessons to be learnt that night. The first one was – Only Coffee on a First Date. The second was – You can walk out without making a scene, so don’t stay where you’re not comfortable.

By choice, I never saw him again. It was my choice. What he wanted was irrelevant. As I walked away, I didn’t say “Kiss My Ass”, even though I thought it … I just let him watch my ass walk away, because he wasn’t going to ever see it again!