Date #2: It Can't Get Worse: Curse of the Indian Restaurant

What a fucking nightmare.

Second date of the weekend. I was really looking forward to it...and here's what happened:

The Dentist took me hiking in Malibu, which was just beautiful. We hiked for 2 hours, came back to his place, cracked open a couple of beers and hit the hot tub. Nice, right? Relaxed and blissed out, we showered (separately) and headed out to an Indian dinner at a nearby restaurant. This is where it all goes south in the most unexpected way.

First, we walk in and I suddenly feel like I might be high. The light is weird, the music is trippy, and I feel as if I've ingested a pan of pot brownies. Undaunted, we order and are in the middle of a conversation about the Dentist's friend in San Fran, when...out of the blue he says, "When am I going to see the real you?"

WHAT??

So I say, "I'm sorry?" and he says "You know, the REAL you. When you said in your profile that sometimes you laugh so hard you cry, I thought that was really endearing. I want to see the REAL you. The endearing you." And I replied, "The following line in my profile says, 'this does not happen unless you know me very very well.' It takes time." But he persists, and suddenly I go from feeling relaxed and happy to LIKE I'M UNDER ENEMY FIRE. I try to explain that it's our SECOND DATE and for me, it takes a little time to let my guard down entirely, but it feels futile and I just feel...attacked. And to top off the feeling that I'm under attack, the conversation also triggers intense emotion memory, as my ex-boyfriend from many years ago pulled the same kind of BS on me periodically...mostly to lay blame when he felt things weren't going well. The next thing I know, I have tears rolling down my face, and I'm thinking "This is the second fucking date. I am crying over Indian food. This cannot possibly get worse."

God is laughing at me, because...guess what happened next? I went to the ladies' room, and returned to find the flaming gay waiter FULLY PICKING UP MY DATE. The Dentist was giving him his digits and I was like...WOW. Really? WTF.

Turns out that the Dentist got coerced into it, but who really cares...because my date was PICKED UP BY A DUDE over dinner, while I was fixing my streaky, teary face in the ladies' room for him. By 11pm, the Dentist had a text message from the gay waiter, and I was on my way home. I mean, I've had bad dates but this one really takes the cake.

And that, my friends, was Date #2 this weekend.

I did hear from the Handsome Canadian, however...and he would like to get together once more. Again, the Four Man Plan is Prozac for my love life...truer words were never said!