The Docta.

So, sorry to be so MIA. I’ve actually had two dates recently, but both were good! I didn’t think you sick freaks would want to hear the good stuff. But a request did come in for a blog about the last good one, so I will comply. Juuuuust . . . one more bad one.

Much to my mother’s delight, I did have a date with a docta. This was a few weeks ago. Our date was postponed a bit because he was in Nepal doing volunteer medical work. Aaaw. Yeah. But then he comes back all fresh-faced from his do-gooding and we go out.

We meet at a bar on 49th Street and 9th Avenue, which is a happening place and there are lots of places around there. He’s wearing a suit, which seems nice. He’s very attractive, which is nice. We go into designated bar and the waitress seats us in the back of the bar. We sit down, and Docta says, “I don’t like this seat,” and we leave. OK . . . Ew. I think we’ll just go next door to one of the hundreds of other bars in the 'hood, but no. We get in a cab and go to 5th Avenue and 56th Street. This doesn’t sound like much but that was a good 20 minutes away. For what?? (We end up at a very ritzy bar that my friend told me later is where they hold, like, Grammy after-parties and shit. Ew. And besides from being pretty, I don't think they had alcohol that the other places didn't have. Pretentious . . .)

In the cab over, I ask, “So, you do always have to wear a suit to work?” He responds, “No, I didn’t have work today. I have an event later.” I ask what the ‘event’ is, and he tells me that some friends are getting together at a bar on the Upper East Side. There are so many things wrong with this: a friends’ get-together is not 'an event'; you wear a suit to meet your friends?; you planned a date for a night where you have something else going on? Ew.

Then we discover that we are both twins—I have a fraternal twin sister, he has an identical twin brother. This excites me—I like meeting other twins. He apparently thinks the whole thing is banal. I ask him stuff about his brother. Then I say, “do you know what he’s thinking right now?” I say this because this is the #1 question I get asked as a twin, and it is so stupid and annoying. I figured he would feel the same and we would have a good laugh over our shared disdain for stupid-non-twin people. Instead, he said, “Let’s see.” He then text-messages his brother “what number am I thinking of?” I watch him do this, and he tells me he’s thinking of the number 285. His brother texts back quickly, “287?” At first, I fall for it. I’m like, “wow! My sister wouldn’t even get the text message until like a week from now!” Then, I catch on. I accuse him of having this whole thing set up beforehand with his brother, for the moments when stupid-non-twin people ask him their questions. He admits that indeed, they have a set-on number, flower, and animal. Now, that’s funny. However, I am not a stupid-non-twin person. The fact that he didn’t catch on to the sarcasm of me asking him if he knew what his brother was thinking was really annoying, and even more annoying (and arrogant) was him taking in to the level of playing his trick on me as if I were a common non-twin. And it made me feel stupid, even though he was the one who didn't get it. Maybe he was trying to make me feel stupid for even making the joke. The whole thing just reeked. Ew.

The date was downhill from there. Despite making SO much money that he only has to work one week a month (and owns apartments in both NYC and Napa Valley), he accepted my polite-but-not-real offer of $20 for the bill at the bar. Not only that, but I had only had a $10 glass of wine. He had skinny legs. His stupid suit. We also made a one million dollar bet about the words to a George Michael song (I wagered the $1 mil, because I knew I was right). As the date dragged on, he began to kiss my hand. He said, “That was a $5 kiss. I’m working off my debt.” Ew. Then he says, “Do you want to see the $10 kiss?” I say, “No. I’d rather have the money.” But he gives me the $10 kiss anyway, on my forearm. Ew. He then asks if I want the $40 kiss. I yawn and say look how late it is getting. The whole thing stunk like he’d been rehearsing it for years, which he probably had. He and his stupid twin brother probably had agreed on a number, an animal, a flower, and a stupid make-a-bet-with-a-girl-and-kiss-her-as-payment thing back when they were all being stupid and shit.

Lesson of the day: I don't know. Twin doctas = devilspawn.