date night-mare.

I finally went out with Mr. Hapa last night. Erm . . . how do I describe the date . . . Let me see . . .

It was . . . not good.

Worse than not good.

First of all, he was 30 minutes late. Which is fine really because I'm almost always late so I don't really have issues with someone being late but dude, it's our first date. I was hoping he'd be a little bit more prepared but whatever. I could deal with that.

But then he got there . . . and everything just got worse . . . and worse . . . and I'm not even kidding because it totally wasn't funny.

So, I already had an idea that Mr. Hapa might be kind of on the short side. I mean that literally so get your mind off the gutter. I don't mean short like a little person, which wouldn't be an issue if he was because I think little people are fascinating but that's not the point I'm trying to make. Mr. Hapa's profile on Match indicated that he was 5'6". Umm, really? Because he might have over-estimated his height a little bit. It seemed like he was more like 5'5" and some change. I mean, 5'6" isn't really short in Asian terms but I prefer my men to be a little bit taller than that. You know, so I can wear heels and not feel guilty about it. And so I don't have to lean down when kissing him. And so I don't feel like Katie Holmes with Tom Cruise. Or Nicole Kidman with Tom Cruise. Or any normal-sized woman with Tom Cruise because I really do not like that dude. But seriously, the height difference wasn't really even that big of a deal. Not really. I mean, it would've been preferable if he was taller but I could've lived with having a not-so-tall boyfriend. Totally.

Thing is, it wasn't just the height. I was slightly perplexed by what he was wearing, too. Okay, so yesterday was a very nice sunny day in Southern California. I was wearing a cute white top with black abstract markings, nice dark jeans and sexy gold fuck-me heels. Thing is, I think the fashion gods might have thought it funny to finally get payback for all my past fashion faux pas because Mr. Hapa didn't look very . . . put together. First of all, he was wearing sneakers. I mean, who the heck wears sneakers on a date? What is he, like, seventeen? Plus, his jeans were slightly oh-so-tight which is almost always a fashion don't on heterosexual men. But no, the worst part of the entire outfit was his turtleneck sweater. Yes, Mr. Hapa was wearing a freaking turtleneck sweater . . . in 70-degree weather! This honestly led to some moments during the date where I would zone out because I was trying to figure out how his armpits could possibly not be sweating in the heat. Seriously, I was wearing a thin shirt and I was feeling a bit damp so I have no idea how he couldn't have been. But okay, fine, I could let this one slide, too. I mean if we ever got together, I figured I could always accidentally shrink all most of his clothes and blame the dryer, right? So see, I'm not entirely shallow. I do know how to compromise.

So yea, I was fine with the height thing. And the clothes thing. I could be un-judgey when I want to be. Besides, he seemed like a really nice guy so I put on my brightest smile and decided to continue on with our date. I should've probably listened to my gut. Because the next thing I knew, Mr. Hapa brings me over to the food court to have dinner. Yes, you heard me. He took me and my new cute first-date outfit and my sexy heels and my pretty hair TO A FREAKING FOOD COURT! WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I was seriously super majorly over-the-top horrified, not to mention humiliated. I didn't even have time to do the "reach for my purse and offer to pay for half" thing because I was too busy weaving in and out of the line for the cashier and trying not to fall flat on my face in my fuck-me heels. And if that wasn't bad enough, it felt like the entire food court crowd was looking at us because I was dressed to the nines and he was dressed like he just came home from grocery shopping. Oy.

So yea, you could say our first date didn't turn out so well.

A second date is definitely out of the question.

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