How To End A Blind Date…Quickly
Most guys have been on the sort of disastrous blind date that leaves them wanting to squeeze out of the restaurant’s undersized bathroom window. Social norms dictate that we’re somehow obligated to, rather than make a quick getaway, endure the pain and suffering of dinner, or dinner and a movie, before dropping her off, deleting her digits, and trying to forget that the date ever happened. But I think this custom is bullshit. Why waste your time pretending as if you give a flying hamster shit about her predisposition toward impromptu shopping sprees and binge eating blue cheese and strawberry ice cream while watching the latest Lifetime flick? Why put up with her 250 “I have a thyroid problem yet order three servings of creme brulee”-type pounds? And why act as if her habit of re-enacting scenes from “Glee” with her girlfriends is even marginally acceptable? If you’re going to go that route, you might as well slice off your man jewels and take up knitting shawls. So what is it, exactly, that one is to do? Well, why not come up with a sudden, unexpected one-liner that is so grossly offensive and inappropriate that she will not hesitate in the slightest to march directly out of the restaurant after a “Fuck you, asshole” (or something equally benign), so that you can then get down to business via tearing into a bloody steak, sucking down some frosty ales, and prowling around for another, better piece ‘o tail? The following lines are those that I’ve used to successfully end numerous first dates from hell. Apply at your own risk.
Line: “Do you order diet sodas because you prefer the taste of artificial sweeteners or because it leaves you more comfortable with being fat?”
Her reaction: “You stupid fucking asshole prick!!!”; left restaurant.
End result: Our waiter, having overheard the exchange, gave me a covert high-five and comped my meal, after which time I made my way home to watch The Departed.
Line: “The distorted shape of your oversized nose makes your eyes looked crossed.”
Her reaction: “You’re gonna die, you rude little cocksucker!!”; slapped me; left restaurant.
End result: I got drunk on Stoli shots, picked up a foxy red-head from the bar, took her home, and ate the perfect Eggs Benedict she cooked me the following morning.
Line: “If you didn’t have such a shitty tit job, it wouldn’t matter that you’re hopelessly stupid.”
Her reaction: “Go eat shit, you superficial motherfucker!!”; threw her margarita onto my shirt; exited restaurant.
End result: I went home, changed shirts, drank a protein shake while watching Reservoir Dogs, and felt very pleased.
Line: “Without that poofy dress, you’d look a lot like an anorexic dumpster whore.”
Her reaction: “You think I’m fat?!”; tossed her silverware into my face; left restaurant.
End result: I finished my delicious pine-nut-crusted rainbow trout, drank a bottle of wine, took a nice autumn stroll, and stopped at an ex-girlfriend’s house for a nightcap.
Line: “I’d rather chew on arsenic-dipped (used) tampons than listen to you say another fucking word.”
Her reaction: “My boyfriend is an ex-marine. He’ll fucking kill you!!”; exited restaurant.
End result: I used the hundred dollar bill she dropped on the way out to pay for my dinner, get a taxi, buy a six pack of Michelob Ultra, and rent Full Metal Jacket.
Hey, if you’re lucky, she’ll tell all of her friends what an asshole you are, which can lead to good things (See my article, “The Asshole Equation”). If not, margaritas wash off.
By Jon Neralich