Mr. Astrology

December 8th, 2009

Are you ready? This one is a doozy. Seriously.

Mr. Astrology was nice and not too pushy via IM which is why I agreed to meet with him. We set a date for a Thursday lunch. He asked for my number, and, of course, I gave it to him. Also, what are you supposed to say when they ask? "No, I'm scared of strangers?" I'm perplexed by this whole thing.

I'm not really excited about meeting him, but decide I need to since I always end up liking grungy band boys. I need to venture out of my comfort zone! So Mr. Astrology ends up texting me the Wednesday before our big date saying his "evening just opened up" do I "want to grab a cocktail?" Based on the mess that was my first blind date with Mr. Gay Voice, I decided I should NOT be allowed near alcohol when I'm nervous (or probably just in general?). So I suggested we get pie instead. Apparently, he doesn't like pie or pie isn't good enough for Mr. Astrology, so he says we should get coffee and go shopping at the mall. Shopping? Um, okay. I'm not really sure what's normal for a date, but...I guess. He stressed that he has a 40% discount at Anthropologie and "you like dresses" (according to my profile). I later find out that he has said discount because he is listed as his roommate's domestic partner (who works at Urban Outfitters) which allows him to use it. This will make more sense later.

First Impression: He is good looking and trim, a little shorter than I am used to. Not devastatingly handsome, but decent. He was wearing a cool WWI-inspired jacket (from Urban Outfitters, which makes it not as cool).

We start with coffee (which I don't drink) and he says, "This tastes like what you're wearing" as he pushes his cup into my hands. So I take the obligatory sip and am, of course, scalded by his stupid burning hot coffee. Not nice. He bores me for a bit with some heavy philosophical movie reviews (not on the first date, please) and then suggests we head over to Anthropologie. Okay, if you didn't think this was weird before, it IS VERY WEIRD. Is he going to buy me a dress? Or am I supposed to buy myself a dress and try them on for him? I breath a sigh of relief when the store doors refuse to open.

After wandering through Gap and stalling in the men's underwear section (oh, it gets worse) we end up in Barnes & Noble because "yay" it's open until 11 pm. For the record, we started this date at 8:30 pm. Mr. Astrology happily flits from Non-Fiction to Self-Improvement and finally to the Astrology section. He quickly picks out three or four books, most of which have something to do with sex and your astrological sign. He proceeds to read aloud to me for the next hour about my sign (Sagittarius) and how it is a very sexual sign and is a perfect match for him (Gemini). I don't know much about signs, but I think those two are NOT compatible. Yes, this is partially my fault for going along with this whack date, but I'm too nice! And it's only my second blind date! While I'm drawing imaginary circles with my finger on the little kid picnic table which we are sitting at (yes, we are sitting in the children's section while he described in detail how Sag's respond best to foreplay with the thighs), he turns to me and says, "Oh, I just really have to do this!" I look up perplexed and he grabs me, like hard, and makes out with my face. This would have been hot if I liked him, but I didn't. So it was creepy in a scary molester way. I figured I would go with it and maybe have some fun kissing. Except, he was the world's worst kisser. Seriously. He opened his entire mouth the whole time and was really sloppy and gross. He also did this weird thing where he forced my head in an uncomfortable downward position as if he was pushing me to the ground with his mouth. Sick.

Needless to say, I was traumatized. I regret letting him make out with my face a few more times. I also regret listening to everything that came out of his mouth including his stories of buying a lingerie set for a future girlfriend that he didn't have and how he had sex with his ex in the dressing room of a clothing shop and it was "hot." Yeah.

I rush home, shower for two hours, then write him a Dear John email hoping we can all just forget this.

Date #3: Creepiest Date in History.