I met him at a buffet restaurant close to his house because he didn't have a car - because he was 6'7" and couldn't fit in one. I get there - he's already eating. Almost done, in fact. I get a plate and start to eat, when I notice I'm being stared at. A lot. By everyone around us. I figure it's because of his height. I find out soon enough - it's because he bragged to all of his buddies that he met someone on the Internet, so they all came out to see me.
I get halfway through my salad, and he snaps, "Are you done yet? Let's go." I finish my $9 salad (since I'd paid for the full buffet and didn't get to eat, basically) and we decide to go across the (very busy) street to the mall. I cram his 6'7", 400 lb. frame into my mother's Toyota Camry. He's nearly decapitated by the automatic seat belt.
We get to the mall, where I run beside him (I'm 5'8", and even with his normal stride, I had to jog to keep up), fielding stares from people because I'm with Goliath. It was nearing Christmas, so every store we went to, he had to look for Star Trek stuff, because he was a major Trekkie. He recounts every scene of the then-current Star Trek movie for me. In detail. While we walk.
I cram him into the car again (should have brought my bigger, older sedan... thought I'd impress him with mom's... stupid me...) and drive him home (about 2 miles). He invites me in. I'm figuring at this point, it can't be any worse. Wrong.
We step inside and his mother bellows from the other room for us to take our shoes off, she just cleaned the carpets. We do. She steps into the living room, takes one look at me, states, "You his date? You're fat." And walks away.
I follow him into his room, where his cousin is working on a computer programming project for their next Dungeons and Dragons session. He is intrigued that there is an actual GIRL in the room. He leaves at my date's request, but brushes up against me very s-l-o-w-l-y as he goes, then laughs like Beavis for the next 10 minutes, in the other room.
We enter my date's bedroom, which is painted black. Walls, ceiling, black carpet... all of it black. His walls are covered with Star Trek figurines, comic book figurines, and a poster of Kirk and Spock is mounted on the ceiling above his bed. In the corner there is a seven-foot-tall walking stick with a skull hanging from it.
"That looks real," I say, laughing, and he informs me that it IS real. When I ask where he got a real human skull, I'm told that I don't want to know. He's right, I don't. He then asks me for a kiss. I agree, simply to be sure I'm not the next adornment for his staff. I kiss him as rapidly as possible, make some poor excuse for leaving (mom needs me!), grab my shoes, and out the door.
Yes, it was the date from Hell.
Comments
Bloody Hell!
by anonymous on November 29th, 2006