Cra-Z D8s 8 (Funny Date Story)
Discretion seems to be the word that comes to my mind as I attempt to tell this story without revealing the person on the date. Excuse my absence of details for that reason. I am sure that this man is not aware of his appearance to others.
He insisted on a date that I tried to graciously reject. He took me to lunch at an upscale restaurant where the cheapest thing on the lunch menu was a tuna fish sandwich for only $12.95; I silently balked at the waste. I realize he was trying to impress me, but I am not one who falls into the black holes of phony impressions.
As we were waiting for the waiter to approach us, he told me he loved the way I was dressed “from the waist up.” I smiled, knowing that he was referring to my habit of wearing jeans with my blazers and turtlenecks in the winter months. I didn’t respond to his combination of compliment and insult; I just sat there with a stupid smile plastered on my face and a well hidden attitude of “aint this just special.” He launched into how he would never allow either his deceased wife or any of his daughters to even own a pair of jeans. I remained plastered with the smile and my eyes staring into his and thinking, “That poor wife. Obviously she died for self-preservation. Bet she has a wardrobe of designer jeans in heaven.” Refusing to be criticized or react to the criticism on a date I didn’t want to go on in the first place, I just sat there staring into his eyes with a mouth that mimicked Jack Nicholson’s mouth as the Joker in "Batman".
When the waiter came to take our order, I stated that I wanted a tuna fish sandwich. However, I didn't state that I was in a hurry to see the end of this lunch date. My date had other ideas. Deprecatingly speaking to the waiter and me, he said, “No, you may not have a tuna fish sandwich. You must try something more elegant than a tuna fish sandwich.” With each subsequent statement of the words “tuna fish sandwich," a repulsive odor permeated the air as both the waiter and I realized this man was insulting not only my tastes but also my class standing in life.
The waiter offered to recite his noon delicacies, but I told him that would not be necessary; I wanted a tuna fish sandwich. My date turned to the waiter to make sure the waiter knew his substandard position in life compared to his own. He snootily asked the waiter, “I detect an accent. Where are you from?” The waiter, with all the class that comes with upscale restaurants, replied politely, “Guatemala, sir.” My date then truly showed his intelligence level, while maintaining his “I’m your superior” status, and asked the waiter, “Hablo espanol?” My smile widened and threatened to turn to uncontrollable laughter when I looked up at the waiter and pleaded with my eyes, “Please, tell him, no, no sir, you do not speak Spanish.” The waiter had a hint of an acknowledged smile as he turned away from me and toward my date and politely said, “Yes, sir, I do speak Spanish.” I think if he had stared at me too long or honored my silent bid, we would have bust out laughing at my date’s expense.
My date then decided that it was time for the seal performance and insisted, in an instructional format, that the waiter should “tell the lady” what is on the menu for the day, in complete detail. These speeches are delivered quite elegantly with the details of how the food is prepared. It is quite an impressive delivery. However, despite my date’s presumption that I have somehow managed to get through life without the pleasure of such elegance, I have been to more upscale restaurants than I care to remember.
Our waiter delivered his speech with excellence. As he came to the piece de resistance, the absolute wonder of the day that was sure to render my brain a mush of idiocy as my taste buds quake with a multitude of orgasmic culinary releases, he turned toward me so that my date could not see his face for the flash of a second it took for him to wink at me, and he described the delicacy of the day in luscious detail. It was salmon and only $29.99. I smiled and said, “Oh, now that sounds wonderful.” To my date, I said, “Thank you so much for saving me from myself. I would have settled for the tuna fish sandwich had I never known they had salmon today.” I smiled up at the waiter and said, “Yes, I will have the salmon, thank you.”
Not once did my date show a sign that he realized he was being messed with by the waiter and me. As the waiter left the table, my date made another degrading remark about this waiter as he delivered a compliment about him, simultaneously. I smiled at him and attempted some logic, saying, “You know, he is probably not really a waiter by profession. He seems quite intelligent and is probably a medical student working his way through medical school.” The topic of conversation was changed in a flash and with no acknowledgement of the statement I had just made; he went off into a dramatized history of the restaurant with all the pride a man would have if he laid every brick with his own hands.
After lunch we went on a small tour, where each painting (or print of a painting) that hung in those illustrious halls was explained to me in detail. His insufferable delusion that I have never been in an upscale restaurant transposed to the art world; thus, I also have never seen art before. I am a fast learner though. I knew how to shut this man up, so I interjected into one of his ranting art lessons: “Georges Seurat’s Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte is one of the most famous examples of pointillism; of course, I have seen it before. The original is at the Art Institute of Chicago. Many interpret Seurat’s intent with this painting was to depict various social classes escaping city life to the same location.” The painting tour abruptly ended without comment to my comment.
The tour ended in the pro shop where he attempted to explain to the golf pro on duty how to properly swing a golf club, iron to be precise. I have to tell you, this place is indeed upper-crust in courtesy. The golf pro listened intently to my date even though he occasionally snuck a puzzled look at me. Was he thinking, “Why are you with this jerk?” - My answer: “I have no idea!” Or, was he thinking: “Can you believe this man’s audacity?” – My answer: “Sir, I believe this man would educate the Pope on Catholicism if given the chance.” Whatever the golf pro was thinking, my date showed no sign of embarrassment for his behavior, but I am sure I made up for it.
After lunch, I was insistent that the date end; my tolerance level was hitting bottom. On the way back to my school, he started telling me how someone of my intelligence should be attending a “better” school. I tried some tactful reasoning: “Don’t you think that a person of intelligence will excel regardless of the price tag on the education?” Once again, the subject was changed without any acknowledgement of the question I asked.
He moved into a subject in which he thought he was sure to be superiorly versed. He asked a constitutional legal question as if he were my professor and mentor. My ability to maintain civility vanished. I said, “First off, I don’t appreciate that you were spying into my classroom today. Second, if you want to play the role of superior intelligence, be intelligent enough to pose the question correctly. What you asked me just now is about as intelligent a question as asking a Guatemalan if “you” speak Spanish.” He was puzzled as to what I meant; I could tell by his scrunched forehead. I am sure he would still have been lost had I explained the constitutional law question and its correct posturing or the fact that one refers to himself when he uses the Spanish verb tense of “hablo”.
I seriously think the man has no idea as to how irritating he is. I refused to ever accept another date with him, regardless of his assertive insistence. In time, I was told about my lower status in life and how he was merely trying to teach me about the finer art of class. At one point, during one of his many irritating phone calls, I reacted with: “Oooo-weee, Baby, keep laying on all the sweet talk and you’ll sweep me off my feet for sure.” When I still did not agree to see him again, I was told that I would forever be low life. So bring me a beer, no glass needed, please; I will gladly swig it from the bottle.
Click On One Of The Links Below For More Fun Reads
Cra-Z D8s 1 (Funny Date Story)
Cra-Z D8s 2 (Funny Date Story)
Cra-Z D8s 3 (Funny Date Story)
Cra-Z D8s 4 (Funny Date Story)
Cra-Z D8s 5 (Funny Date Story)
Cra-Z D8s 6 (Funny Date Story)
Cra-Z D8s 7 (Funny Date Story)
Cra-Z D8s 8 (Funny Date Story)
Cra-Z D8s 9 (Funny Date Story)
Cra-Z D8s 10 (Funny Date Story)
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In the singles world, we all go on dates, some of which are so funny that the retelling of them makes the world laugh. Check out some of the funny stories others have experienced. Be sure to spread the laughter by sharing some of your own stories. Scroll down to find a comment section so that you can let the people who submitted the stories know how much you enjoyed reading about their funny dates. Report your crazy date by e-mail to: Cra_Z_D8s@yahoo.com
Most important thing: have a fun, laugh-filled life. Don't let people rattle your cage. Be safe: Treat flattery like bubblegum: chew it; enjoy it; spit it out - don't swallow it. Educate with humor. Laugh while learning. There is no better humor than the facts of life. Laughter serves as a psychological healing balm rubbed upon our emotional wounds. - Bree
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