Kirkkitsch’s Blog

Quantum Kirk: Sundae, Bloody Sundae
August 18, 2010, 6:00 am
Filed under: Life, Quantum Kirk

When a response to an older personal ad that I’d placed online, garnered a reply, I was caught a little off guard. It’d been so long since I posted it that I’d forgotten all about it. The guy’s name was Reuben and he lived in a nearby city, thirty minutes away. He was in his early twenties, Hispanic and the manager of a McDonald’s.

We talked on the phone for a while before making plans to go to dinner and a movie. The plan was for him to meet me at my apartment, where we would carpool to the movie and then have dinner afterwards.

Reuben was scheduled to be at my place at 6; the movie started at 7:30. I called the guardhouse to let them know that I was expecting company and to please let them in. I was ready around 5.

Six o’clock rolls around, and I’m keeping my ears peeled for the doorbell. He’s a little late, but I figure maybe there was traffic, we still have plenty of time before the movie starts. Six thirty rolls around…no show. I call him and he says he’s on his way.

Thirty minutes later, and he’s still a no-show. By this time, I’m annoyed because I’m a big believer in punctuality, and say ‘Fuck it! I’m not gonna sit here and wait any longer. I still have time to make the movie, with or without him.’

I get in the car and as I’m waiting for the automatic entrance gate to open, I see someone talking to the guard in the guardhouse that fits Reuben’s description. I roll down my window and ask him if his name is Reuben, he says yes, and I say ‘You caught me just in time. I was about to leave!’ I make a U-turn back inside and he parks his car near my apartment building. We introduce ourselves and I suggest an alternate plan: dinner now, then rent a movie. He’s game and we’re off in my car.

He’s cute. I mean REALLY cute. I’d learned not to get my hopes up, so it was a nice surprise. He’s well-groomed, dressed nice and did I mention cute? Okay, okay. So far he’s made up for being late, let’s see if he has a pulse.

He apologizes for being late. He says he got lost, but my instincts are telling me that he waited too long before starting to get ready (which is confirmed later, during dinner “conversation”, when he briefly forgets to stick to his story). As we’re talking, I periodically keep getting whiffs of something that smells awful. I can honestly say it bordered on decay…but more sour. I start freaking out, thinking it’s something in my car, which, as a rule, I try to keep clean, especially when I know I’m going to have a passenger(s).

I continue to maintain our conversation, while covertly checking around the car to see if I can locate the source of the stench. Lots of things run through my mind: Had the floor mats soured since I washed them? They were kinda wet when I put them back…oh god, did a stray fast food item find it’s way under one of the seats? Oh my god, was it under HIS seat? Was there a dead animal in the vicinity? Had one of us stepped in something? I checked the bottoms of my shoes. Nothing. Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that there was a rogue stench, I nonchalantly pinched my nose a few times to try and block it out. So far, he was oblivious.

Then it hit me. It was something in my car…him. As I watched him a little closer, I noticed that the rotten smell coincided each time he opened his mouth to speak, and the air conditioner vents were blowing it my way! I diligently tried to deal with it the best I could, but as time went on, it was filling the car’s interior like a stinky, toxic cloud hovering above us. I eventually had to roll down the windows, using “It’s such a nice night!” as an excuse (I rolled his down the farthest).

The smell eventually subsided and seeing as we hadn’t chosen a restaurant yet, I ask him what he was in the mood for: “I dunno.” I rattle off a slew of restaurants with assorted styles of food: Italian, Mexican, American, Chinese, etc. Again, “I dunno.” I drive around for a while, in areas dense with restaurant choices. Still no input to be found. A quarter of a tank of gas later, I make one last ditch effort at getting a response out of him, before giving up and telling him that we’re eating at Braum’s.

I initially tried to steer clear of a hamburger place, since he works at one, but after factoring in his tardiness, his lack of input and rancid breath, cute or not, my patience was waning. After all, someone had to get the ball rolling!

Once inside, we’re at the counter studying the menu, and I ask him what looks good to him: “I dunno.” Sigh. I order a cheeseburger and french fries. He follows suit. We have a seat and wait. There’s some semblance of conversation, but I don’t remember exactly what we talked about. Our food arrives and we start to eat. He starts telling me about his job, which he apparently REALLY likes, which is fine, but it doesn’t make for tantalizing dinner conversation. Then he says, authoritatively: “You know what’s wrong with these fries?” I know where this is headed, so I say in a chipper tone ‘There’s not enough of them!?’ Not amused, he says no, then I get a 10 minute spiel on McDonald’s fries vs Braum’s fries.

THEN he says (during the lull that follows his dissertation on fries): ‘You know what I would have done differently when preparing this hamburger?’ I reply, in almost a robotic tone that I don’t know. He pulls the same McDonald’s rhetoric outta his hat and by the time he’s finished, I’m tempted to seal the conversation with a melodical “e-i e-i o”, but I fight it.

At this point, I forego any question of ordering dessert, and announce that I’m getting ice cream. He debates getting a sundae, because he wants one, but not right now, but then he doesn’t want it to melt…. I stop him in mid sentence and tell him that we can put it in my freezer. He consents, orders the sundae and we’re off.

Back in the car, I say in a ‘Well! That was fun! Bye!’-tone, “What should we do now?” (secretly hoping he’s forgotten about renting a movie and wants to go home) Naturally, he says ‘I thought we were going to rent a movie.’ My internal dialogue says “Fuck!”, but on the outside I say ‘Oh yeah!’ Sigh.

We go to a nearby Blockbuster and again (surprise!) go through the Who’s On First routine of “I dunno.” I even remind him that there’s a sundae in the car…nothing. I finally make an executive decision, choose a movie, pay for it and head back to the apartment.

Once at the apartment, we out his sundae in the freezer, I immediately put the movie in the VCR. He sits as far away from me as humanly possible, which is fine with me. He may be cute, but he’s one boring heap of Hispanic halitosis.

We watch the movie, he makes a beeline for the freezer…and then proceeds to drip the fuckin’ sundae through the kitchen, dining room AND living room. I freak out when I notice the trail and go to grab it from him, so that I can at least set it in the sink before it spills anymore on the carpet. HE freaks out, not because he made a mess, but because he’s concerned he may have spilled some on his suede boots. His boots.

Hit the road, Nancy.

2 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Ugh, reading this made me miserable. I can’t even imagine what you were going through. Torture, pure torture. And don’t even get me started on bad breath. Barf!

Comment by twoveganboys

LOL! And now we’re all a little closer to understanding why I gave up the glamour of dating.

Comment by kirkkitsch

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