The Worst Date of All Time: Part 1

(Note-This Worst Date of All Time was such an epic Worst Date of All Time, I’m dividing it up into three entries)

Part 1: So I forgot to tell you. I’m blind.

I was talking to a friend the other day about how I'd rather lick a homeless guy's shoe that date strangers and I think it’s time for me to tell you about the Worst Date of All Time. Do you think your worst date is worse than mine? You’re incorrect. Unless you were murdered. If you were murdered on your Worst Date of All Time, speak now. Unless you're Candace Cameron. Date rape-murder movies don't count.

So last summer I started dating. It was really weird because I had been with the same person for eight years and being around people that weren’t The Person You Have Been With For Eight Years was a lot like putting yourself in a box, shipping that box to northern Azerbaijan in the winter, jumping out of that box, and then being forced to kill a polar bear for food using a spoon while riding a unicorn. It wasn’t easy and it made no sense.

Fig. 1.1
Me, after being shipped to Azerbaijan, fighting a polar bear with a spoon on a unicorn.

I went on a couple of ok dates and a couple of bad dates and then I met this guy named Bodie. I didn’t know a whole lot about him. Which is good. Because I didn’t know him. If I had known a lot about him, it would have meant I was stalking him like some Creepy McCreeperson. I imagine Crispin Glover is a Creepy McCreeperson. ( I do not know Crispin Glover. I have never spoken to Crispin Glover. I do not know anyone who knows Crispin Glover, but he looks pretty sketchy to me.)

Fig. 1.2
Crispin Glover: Creepy McCreeperson. He's probably under your bed right now.

Let me preface this by saying that My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who saw Ferris pass out at 31 Flavors last night set him up with me. So no one knew him that well. Still, I hope that person has to live in agony with this horrible mistake for the rest of their lives. Like Brad Pitt has to live with finding Gwyneth Paltrow’s head in a box in Seven.

Fig. 1.3
I couldn't find a picture from Seven. Just pretend like He-Man is Gwyneth Paltrow and Brad Pitt is really upset off camera somewhere.

Anyway, his name was Bodie and I thought his name was amazing and that we would obviously get married because he had an awesome name. I later found out that, contrary to my original belief, you should not marry someone just because they are named Bodie.

Bodie and I talked for a while on the phone and he passed the serial murderer test, so I agreed to go out with him. The following are things he told me before we went out:

1) He was a history teacher
2) He lived in a house in Cypress
3) He made good grades in school
4) He loved to read
5) He was 34
6) His name was Bodie and I thought that was awesome

The following are things he neglected to mention before we went out:
1) He was legally blind.

I found other things out, but this was the first, and most shocking, in a series of shocking revelations throughout the evening. Here’s how I found out:
Me: So what time are you picking me up tonight?
Bodie: Oh, you’ll have to drive.
Me: Um. Ok. Is your car in the shop?
Bodie: Oh, no. I don’t drive
Me: …
Bodie: …
Me: Any particular reason? (At this point, I believed that he must have drank six bottles of Everclear and run down a bus full of Catholic school children on their way to a field trip to the zoo where they were caring for abandoned baby seals.)
Bodie: I’m legally blind.
Me: Oh. (translation: this should have come up before. not that it matters, but this should have come up before.)

So I got directions and left my office to pick him up at his house, which is where I found out another shocking revelation: He lives with his parents. At 34. On a teacher’s salary. I know you’re mad at me because he’s blind. As it turned out, though, he wasn’t that blind. trust me.

So I went to pick up my date at his parent’s house. Which is where I found this out: he hadn’t “worked in a while” because “he wasn’t sure if he liked kids”. I guess he thought, “ok. I’ll be a teacher, or I’ll throw in the towel and never work again.” Convictions.

Back to the “he’s blind” thing. I expected a full-on Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman.

Fig. 1.4
I did not expect Chris O'Donnell to be there. It would have been a bonus.

He had glasses. That was it. He didn’t touch my face. He wasn’t counting steps. He didn't have a cane. He didn't have a dog with a vest that tells me not to pet it. He said, “you look great! I love your zebra-print shirt! How do you walk in those heels?” (translation: I can see you! Look at me and my working eyes go!)

So I thought, “ok. Maybe his problem is in depth perception, so he can’t drive and it would make sense that I just picked up an unemployed 34-year-old man from his mom’s house to go out on a date”. Remember that blog I wrote where I said I suffered from either incurable optimism or you-are-the-biggest-idiot-alive disease?

I am the biggest idiot alive. Bigger than Glenn Beck.

Fig. 1.5
Look at this idiot. Get a hold of yourself, idiot.

Then came the time for us to solidify what we were doing.

Me: What do you want to do? (translation: where do blind dudes go to have fun? I can’t read Braille and I only saw Ray twice.)
Bodie: Let’s go to the movies. Then we can go to Barnes and Nobles, if you want.
Me: Ok. (translation: there’s no effing way you’re blind.)

So I started driving us to the movies, convincing myself that he has no depth perception, until he says, “you’re going to turn left in about 20 feet”. Which means that not only does he have depth perception, he doubles as an irritating GPS. I ignored it, because, like Julia Roberts, if you don’t believe in something, it just goes away. Until Robin Williams claps you back to life.

Fig. 1.6
"I played a fairy to clean up my act after playing a hooker!"

So we went to the movies. And like a good date, he asked me what I wanted to see. Then, like someone you’ve been dating for a while, he completely ignored my suggestion and took me to see Harry Potter and The Movie I Wasn’t Interested In Seeing, or something like that, where he proceeded to receive texts all night and kept trying to nonchalantly (translation: extremely obviously) hold my hand like I was in the seventh grade. ("What? Oh no. I sit with my hand upturned on the arm rest all the time. It's comfortable.)

You may have noticed that I said he was receiving texts all through the movie. I didn’t ask him about the texts for two reasons. One, I didn’t care. Two, I’m not crazy. Your texts are none of my business, no matter how rude you're being. As it turns out, I didn’t have to ask. He told me. It would have been better if he didn’t.

The texts (that he could READ oh his PHONE) he was receiving for a solid three hours, were from his mother.

He beamed. “She wants to meet you!”

Have you ever felt your entire body go cold and start shaking, then you feel your stomach twist, then your mouth tastes like pennies and you feel light headed and all you want to do is get blackout drunk and listen to House of Pain? Like probably the way Michael Caine felt when he saw, and then realized he was in, Jaws 4? That moment felt a lot like that.

Fig. 1.7
"Holy Christ. I was in that movie?"