My Big White Creeper

I'm not gonna lie, my first date back into the single world was with a guy named Todd that my mom talked me into going out with.  His pictures were distant and blurry so I was reluctant, but his profile was surprisingly witty and clever.  He seemed like he had a great personality.  After writing back and forth we eventually exchanged phone numbers.  That's when he stopped sounding funny and started sounding creepy. 

He asked me if I wanted to finally meet one night and I replied that I had just gotten home from work and all I was in the mood for was to veg out on the recliner and watch some TV.  Todd's response?  "I'll come over with some popcorn and cuddle on the recliner with you."  Ew, no thanks. That was not an invitation.  I ignore the comment and instead we set up a date for dinner and a movie later on in the week. 

That night Todd texts me again at 12:30am asking what I'm up to.  I tell him I'm in bed, hoping he'll get the hint and let me get some sleep for work.  "Wish I was there," he said. 

"I don't," I respond.  Again, EW.  We haven't even met and you want to cuddle and lay in bed with me?  This is way creepy.  At this point I'm really starting to regret my dinner and a movie date.  I want to cancel it altogether but I convince myself that maybe he's trying to be sweet and I'm just making a big deal out of this.  After all, this is the first time he's been creepy.  He could be normal in person.  I'll keep the date, but dinner and a movie is definitely too long for comfort now.  Maybe just a movie.  No, movies are dark and I'm a little afraid of him now.  Maybe just dinner.  Dinner can be too long.  A drink?  Coffee.  Who roofies a coffee?  Coffee it is.  Operation: Scale Down Date, is in full swing.

Before date night rolls around I manage to downgrade it from dinner and a movie to just coffee.  Todd teases me that it's because I want to make a quick getaway if he's weird.  I don't deny it, I do laugh... nervously. 

The time has come.  Coffee.  In a public place.  With a possible creeper. I take comfort when I see several city police cars driving back and forth the area.  All of this, however, ends up being an overreaction.  Todd's nice and witty and funny, just like his profile.  I notice throughout the date that he keeps tilting his head, kind of like when your neck is bothering you and you're trying to crack it.  I feel bad so I ask him if he has a problem with his neck, thinking I had some tylenol I could give him. 

"Kinda... we'll talk about it later,"  he said. Okay.

The date continues.  So does the neck cracking.  I'm distracted and having trouble focusing on his moving target of a head, the curiousity is killing me so I blurt out, "Seriously, what is wrong with your neck?!"

"You haven't figured it out yet?" he asks.  No, I think to myself, I'm not a fricken mind reader.  "I have a mild case of Tourette's." 

Silence.  I must look like a deer caught in the headlights, except I feel like an ass.  All I can mutter is a quiet, "Oh..."

"Worst date ever!" he smiles and jokes.  I'm not thinking that.  Right now I'm thinking a lot of things but not that his Tourette's makes this the worst date ever.  I'm thinking how awkward I feel.  That his profile should have mentioned something about that... like a warning so you don't stick your foot in your mouth like I just did.  My thoughts continue to race.  Is this active all the time, or is it worse when you're nervous (like on a date perhaps)?  Tourette's is hereditary right?  So we'd have little Tourette's babies? I'll adopt. I wonder if he's looked into the brain stimulator thing I saw on MTV. I can look past this, right?  I can get over it, right?  It's mild.  It's not like he's blurting out racial slurs, cussing, or swinging his body around violently or anything.  I mean, he's funny and nice and otherwise normal.  This doesn't have to be a deal breaker.  I attempt to move on.

The date continues.  The topic of worst date comes up.  It's my turn to tell a story.  Geez, how do I choose?  I decide to tell the one about the guy who rattled on and on about how sexual he is.  "I'm a very sexual person.  I like to try new things.  I've read about the kamasutra and tantra.  I'm about doing whatever feels good.  If you want to say something racist, then say something racist!"  I told him how confused I was by that conversation. 

Todd has an idea what the guy meant, but he's torn whether or not he should tell me.  This goes on for a while: "I don't want to offend you.  Well.... Nevermind.  I think he meant.... It's probably inappropriate.  But... No, it could be offensive.  Maybe he was talking about... forget it.  Are you easily offended?  Nevermind... I don't want to offend you...  Fine, I'll just say it."

It's about time!

"So, my last girlfriend was black, right? And we were having sex and she yells out, 'I love your big white cock!'..." 

Wait, is this really happening?

"...And I ask her, wait, can I say stuff like that too?  She said yeah, so I say, 'I love your big black ass,' and I could tell she was really into it, ya know?  So maybe that's what the guy meant when he said 'say something racist.'"

I'm stunned.  Speechless even.  The story wasn't offensive.  It was just completely inappropriate.  I'm pretty sure it's unacceptable on a first date to tell me about the dirty talk you had with your ex-girlfriend while having sex with her.  In fact, it's probably not okay to talk about it on the second date, third date, fourth date, fifth date, or pretty much any date ever.  He's waiting for a reaction, but I have no idea how to follow that story.  Say something.  Say.  Something.

"Excuse me, we're closing in five minutes," the barista interrupts.  Thank you!  Thank you God for bringing me this angel barista!  Get me the heck out of here! 

"We should do this again soon," Todd smiled as we walked out.  "I'm hungry, do you want to get some dinner?" 

No thanks, Todd.  I ate beforehand so I'll pass on dinner and your big white cock.  But thanks for the coffee.