The Psychologist Guy

I was looking forward to this date.  Another professional – what could possibly go wrong?

I had a couple meetings at work that day so I wore a “work to happy hour” outfit with my favorite heels.  As I was leaving the office for the day, the sole of my heel flipped out from under my foot – not just a part of the sole coming up, but the entire sole from the toe through the curve of the arch and down to the point of the heel.  I’ve already had these heels repaired and I could already hear my shoe repair person shaking his head and telling me any repair would be hopeless.  Sigh.

Disappointed, I slipped off the heel and popped the trunk of my car to grab some sandals.  Although not ideal in the cool weather with the drizzle coming down, they would have to do.  Lo and behold, my trunk which normally had a spare set of heels or sandals, stared back at me, completely empty.  I stood there with a broken heel in one hand, my bare foot on the wet asphalt, and no back up shoes in sight.

At this point, with the rain coming down and freeway traffic building up, I decided to get on the freeway first and then find a shoe place that was near the place where we were meeting and hopefully still make this date on time.  I managed to get lucky with traffic and utilized Google Maps to find shoe place.  I marched into the shoe store, barefoot with my cute outfit, pointed to a couple options to try on.  I found a shoe that was also on sale (yay!), put on the shoes and marched right out of the store in less than 10 minutes.  I threw the empty box in my car and hustled over to the bar to meet up with Psychologist Guy.

He texted that he was sitting at the bar with a green shirt and jeans.  Simple enough.  He was easy to find.  He had arrived early and was already halfway through a beer.  I hopped on the vacant bar stool next to him and we were casually chatting while the bartender grabbed me a beer.

After chatting for a bit, he ordered a meatball appetizer.  I wasn’t a fan of this option so I opted for chips and guacamole.  Conversation was flowing pretty easily and our food came.  Somehow he started talking about some injuries he had received previously from a motorcycle accident and the surgeries he had.  He explained he had some metal plates and rods installed.

“Oh, that sounds painful.”

“It wasn’t too bad.  I have pictures!”  Before I could protest, he whipped out his phone, quickly flipped through his photos, and started showing me images of him on the operating table with his skin pulled back as the plates and rods are being inserted and secured.  Yep, I’m done with the chips and guacamole.

Not knowing how best to respond, I replied, “The marvels of modern medicine are really amazing.  Do you have to declare all this metal at the airport?”

Thankfully he thought I was funny and the conversation changed to travel and places we’ve been – a typical, normal first date conversation topic.

At one point, a waitress walked by behind us carrying a food order to another table.  She was young and attractive and wore the corresponding low cut shirt and short shorts to accentuate her assets.

Psychologist Guy was mid-sentence when he first started following her with his eyes and then whipped his head, shoulder and chest around, eyes pulsing out of his head, his heart thumping through his chest, and his panting tongue rolled out on the floor like Roger Rabbit salivating after Jessica Rabbit, complete with the “Ah ooo gah” siren.

Not thrilled with his behavior, I thought I’d help him out as his face was now 180 degrees in the opposite direction.  I volleyed a soft question his way.

“Those tacos looked pretty good, didn’t they?”

“Well, a guy is a guy is a guy,” he replied.  “I can’t help it if I have a sex drive.”

I politely smiled.  He went on to tell me how much of a sex drive he has, how often he likes to engage in sexual relations, and a whole host of other revelations that I had no desire to hear.  I have no idea why he felt this was an opportune time to share this information sitting at a bar in a public place with someone he just met, but he just went on as if it were a perfectly normal conversation.

I thought to myself, ‘why do men feel it is appropriate to talk about this?’  Not having an answer, I just blurted it out, “Why do guys feel it’s appropriate to talk about sex with me on a first date?”

He paused. “Well, maybe it’s you,” he eagerly responded.  “You just bring it out in me.”

Ugh.  Gross.  I politely laughed as his “joke” and decided this was a perfect time to use the ladies’ room.

Upon my return, he hopped right back into his lecture on the importance of intimacy in dating relationships and how much he enjoys it.  After trying to change the topics a couple of times, I decided the date had come to an end.  I started putting on my jacket and he got the hint, paid the tab, and we walked out.

He offered to walk me to my car, which was parked in a dark area so I accepted his offer.  The rain had stopped and as we neared my car, I quickly stuck out my hand to shake his before he could try to fulfill his “intimate” needs.  We ending up hugging, saying it was nice to meet each other and that we should do it again sometime – even though I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

He was walking away and was about 30 feet away when he turned around and yelled out my name from across the dimly lit parking lot with a handful of people walking through it, “Hey!”

“Yea?”  I yelled back.

He pointed at me and shouted, “Sex!”, then turned and walked away.

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