The ginger and I had just had a pretty good date. Like I said earlier compared to most of the other dates I have been on it wasn’t that bad. We didn’t have any awkward pauses in the conversation and he paid for dinner. All in all it was pretty successful and if he would have just taken me home after dinner I would have probably even gone out with him again.
After I had agreed to go back to his place and he started driving I realized something rather strange. We were leaving the general area of the college. I was confused because there are some areas of this town you just don’t venture into, because if it wasn’t for the college campus, the town would literally be a dump. It was at this moment that I realized he wasn’t a student of the college. He was a local. He lived in this town and I feel like after all of this time I should have known this, but for some reason I didn’t. I had to calm myself down and realize it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe he was alright, maybe things would work out.
We got to his house and from the outside it looked like a normal cute little house. I was shockingly surprised and at the same time relieved. Maybe, just maybe everything was going to be alright.
I walked into his house and I knew immediately things were not going to be okay. As soon as I walked into his front door it had felt like someone just punched me in the stomach and knocked the wind right out of me. It smelled like poop, and piss, and kitty litter. I was gagging and trying to think of how I was going to make it to half time. I sat in one corner of the couch with my legs crossed my hand over my nose and I didn’t even take my coat off. Now, before you start thinking “Wow! This is some stuck up bitch who can’t even relax and enjoy herself.” I cannot describe to you how awful this house smelled. There were at least 15 cats and to be even clearer I am NOT a cat person. To me cats are snakes with fur. They are mean and stuck up and I hate them.
The game continued and finally halftime had arrived. I sat up half expecting him to ask if I was ready, but he kept delaying the process and finally I demanded “Can you please take me home?” It was to my surprise and horror that he his response was “Actually I was thinking we’d watch the second half. Wanna play Uno?” I had to take a deep breath (but not too deep because the stench of the cats was deathly) and compose myself. I was on the verge of tears and the last thing I wanted was to spend another second in that house with those varmints and play Uno.
At the risk of not being terribly rude I did it, I toughed it out. I stayed for the second half of the football game and I played Uno. The moment the game ended was by far the best moment of my life. He stood up first and I followed his lead. We got out to his car and as I was sitting in his car I felt a moment of peace. For the first time since I walked in his house I actually believed that everything was going to be okay. He got in the car and stuck the keys in the ignition and…nothing. Nothing happened. The car didn’t start. I could feel the overwhelming sensation of the world’s worst panic attack coming over me. Tears were just about to spill over the brim of my eyes. I was hot and starting to sweat. I just wanted this night to end. I wanted this to be over.
On this particular night the temperatures were below zero, so sitting in a cold car wasn’t an option. We went back into his house and I had to hold back my tears and call my roommate. I gave her the address and the Ginger and I sat in silence. He turned the television on to the music channel, which at first seemed like this could potentially be okay for ten more minutes. I heard Taylor Swift playing and I thought to myself “could it get any worse.” and then it did. He started to sing along as if he was trying to impress me.
So there I sat in a house that smelled like death and to my right was a ginger that was alternating between singing Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber, and to my left was a cat pawing at my chandelier pearl earring. I had lost all will power to kick and shove and stiff arm the cats. They were now just having their way with me while their caretaker serenaded me. At this point I would have rather been abducted by Buffalo Bill.
20 minutes passed and I thought “Where in the hell is Lindsey? We live 15 minutes away!” To my everlasting horror, she was lost. Of course she was. Why would anything at this point go smoothly?
A few minutes later and she was finally back on course and was within 5 minutes from being at my rescue. It was at this point I decided to end the night. Lindsey wasn’t there yet, but I decided to test death and stand out in the minus zero temperatures and wait for her.
I had told the cat man she was there and I needed to go and, not kidding you, he looked at me and said “Thank you. I had a lovely evening. Could I possibly get a kiss?” I stared at him for probably longer than acceptable and almost starting laughing. All I wanted to say was “What part of tonight was lovely? Was it the smell of cat poop? Or the Uno playing? Or perhaps your car not starting? Because I am failing to see how this night went well and I sure as hell do not see how this night went well enough for a goodnight kiss.” However I refrained and politely told him no. The second I stepped foot outside his door relief rushed through my body. I took a deep breath, not as a sign of relief, but simply because I could without the fear of vomit erupting from my core. Even though I had to stand on the street corner in the snow, in heels, and in freezing temperatures, I was so much happier outside then I was inside.
Lindsey finally arrived and as soon as I sat in her car I just burst into laughter/tears. The moment was over and it was such an amazing feeling. The cats were gone. The ginger was gone. The date was really over, and then it hit me…I had left my leftovers in his fridge, and that’s when the tears started.
Yes, in fact, this was the worst date ever and I vowed I would never use anyone for food again, that of course was a lie.
Good Food Bad Company 