I went on the worst blind date of my life. Actually, it was the first blind date of my life… and will be my last.
He was an ugly, Jewish cross between Michael Imperioli and Michael Rappaport. He was crass. He was too loud, and cut me off mid-sentence with an inappropriate comment. He drank Absolut Citron and soda. He laughed at his own jokes when no one else did and lightly pressed his hand against my leg. He told me about taking his clients to strip clubs to really develop a trust — which I found odd, as he works in book publishing.
I left after an hour wanting to throw up and cry at the same time. It was pouring, and I couldn’t get a cab. I got home soaking wet, cold, and miserable. No more strip club stories. No more hand on my leg. No more blind dates.