Growing up I wanted three things in life: get married, have lots of kids, and fight against injustice. But there I was, barely thirty, divorced, and a single parent working from paycheck to paycheck. I am not going to lie, it was a real struggle trying to raise two kids on my own, so love was the farthest thing from my mind. I didn't want it, I didn't need it, and I certainly didn't anticipate it. Above all, after barely making it out of a toxic relationship, I didn't feel I was in the mental space and emotionally capable of entering into a new relationship. Despite that, I still felt very lonely at times and on occasions gave my telephone number out to potential suitors.
One night, on one of those rare occasions, at a bar-club that was barely lit, I gave my telephone number to a guy that I could barely see. To this day I can't tell you what possessed me to do that, but it should be noted that I was completely intoxicated. Nonetheless, I felt accomplished that I actually gave out my real number to a guy, even though I had no idea what he looked like. Usually after meeting someone, fear of giving out my number would keep me from getting to know him, and not to mention, I would obsess over it afterwards. Luckily for me, I didn't have to obsess for long, because he called me the next day. After a nice conversation over the telephone, we decided on a date the following weekend. I remember feeling nervous about our date, not just because I had no idea what this guy looked like, and I had just set myself up on a blind date, but also it had been a while since I'd been on a date. Aside from not knowing what to wear, I had been neglecting some basic grooming that most girls my age do on the regular like getting their hair done, nails, waxing, etc... At that time with two toddlers, my grooming consisted of just making sure I didn't stink.
Needless to say, after I rectified my little grooming situation, which I swore never to do again, because no one in their right mind should subject themselves to waxing, I managed to be ready for my date. The weekend came rather quickly and I got ready with no fuss. I made it to the meeting spot we both agreed on half an hour early, ordered a drink, and waited for my date to arrive. Before I left for my date, I gave my friends strict instructions on how to bail me out of the date in case it wasn't working out. But my friends were special. Instead, I found them sitting at the bar having drinks, and positioned to spy on me. We had a good laugh, but I felt very relieved to have them there.
Just as I was making myself comfortable at the table sipping my favorite drink, Red Devil, I noticed a guy walking towards me. He got to my table and asked, “Excuse Miss, are you waiting for Monplaisur?” Which, by the way, means “My pleasure” in French. Go figure. Unable to hide my shock, I answered, “Yes, are you him?”
“Yes, wow! You are stunning!” he said.
Before our date, I thought to myself, how bad can this guy look with a name like that? It turned out, Monplaisur was not only ugly, he was at least twenty years my senior. And from the way he was dressed, he forgot we were in the 21st century. What's more, there was a reason why when we met at the bar I couldn't make out his face. He was as dark as charcoal. Don't get me wrong, I had no problem with him being so Black, but his eyes were so red, I was afraid any moment he would grow fangs and I would have to make a run for it.
But I was undeterred. I told myself he sounded like a nice guy on the phone, so why not give him a chance? Besides, I had not been out in a while, so maybe I should just make the best of it. Also, I knew this date was going to be first and the last for us. He ordered a drink, made himself comfortable, and I ordered my second drink. He told the waiter to keep the drinks coming. We started making small talks, also known as save talks as I liked to call it. I knew he had kids, so I asked him about them. During our talk, I accidentally stumbled on the subject of the mother of his children. I say accidentally because I had no intention of asking about her. It turned out she was a sore spot for him. He immediately started telling me why they were not together anymore. How she took him for granted and didn't appreciate him. From the way he was talking about her I immediately detected that he was still in love with her. On top of that, I discovered that he was still living with her, but swore that he was not sleeping with her. Yeah right, I thought. I knew it was common in some cultures, namely African and Caribbean culture, where couples were separated, but still lived under the same roof together. As he continued to talk about his wife or ex-wife, at that point I could not be sure, I became convinced that he may be on a date, but he had no intention of actually leaving his wife. Which was fine with me, because I had no intention of going out with him again.
Three drinks later for him, and still on my second, I said to him maybe he should consider reconciling with his wife. He gave me an odd look, as if I just told him to drink poison, shook his head no, and told me he was punishing her for not appreciating him. At that point in the date, I was ready to go.
I excused myself to the ladies room, and signalled my friends to meet me there. My friends immediately knew I was ready to go home. In the ladies room, we hatch out a plan for one of them to call me, so I can make an excuse to leave. It occurred to me this guy didn't need to date, he needed therapy, couple's therapy, and I was not qualified.
I don't know if he realized the end of our date was coordinated by my friends who were spying on us, and if he did, he didn't show it. Somehow, even after spending the whole time talking about his wife, he appeared shocked when I told him that I will not be seeing him again. That night I blocked his number and pretended the whole night never happened. To this day, my friends and I still have a good laugh about my date with ‘'Mypleasure.” #MyWorstDate.