Swallow - Please!

That's it!, I swore under my breath while running to the car and nearly tripping over a speed bump. I’ve had it!  No more blind dates!  How could a man be so rude, so uncouth, so...so...disgusting, especially on a first date?  In less than one hour, he’s managed to take bad manners and tackiness to a whole new level.  Emily Post would have a field day with this clown.

Chip contacted me on line via one of the more popular Internet dating sites. The Internet, it now seems, has become the in way to meet people.  Gone are the days of chance encounters in the produce department, eyes locking across a crowded room, or crafty introductions by well-intentioned friends. Nope. Just a few simple clicks of the mouse, and poof! you’ve got a date.

Following several rounds of email interrogation and the mandatory photo exchange, Chip and I agreed to meet for a quick cup of coffee on Saturday morning.  I’ve learned the hard way that a simple first date proves to be the least painful. And while the proverbial coffee date works well, my preferred choice is the Drive By. My date-to-be stands on a nearby street corner and I drive by and stop if interested. Sadly, no one has yet to find my suggestion palatable or amusing.

The next morning Chip emailed to say he would like to invite his buddy, Harold, to join us and wanted to make sure I didn't mind.  Unusual request for a first date, but since the odds were definitely in my favor I encouraged Chip to bring his friend along.

Saturday turned out to be a nice sunny day - perfect weather for black capri pants and my new white cotton pullover.  Grabbing my car keys and favorite Jackie O sunglasses, I did a quick turn in the mirror and felt coffee-date passable. 

Parking was a breeze and as I approached the Coffee Forum in Encinitas I spotted Chip and Harold sitting at an outdoor table near a trash can. Not exactly prime seating, I grumbled disapprovingly, unaware that in mere minutes the obscure location would prove to be a blessing in disguise.

To my dismay, Chip did not bear much of a likeness to the athletic, good looking man portrayed in his photos. He was tall with thinning grey hair and skinny as a beanpole. Oh well, I sighed, trying to look at the bright side, at least he has hair and summoned up a smile as Chip stood to greet me.  Polite  introductions were made and I was left alone with Harold while Chip went inside to place our order.

Desperately trying not to be too obvious, I gave Harold, who was slouched in the chair next to me the once over and I must say he was not what I expected. Unlike Chip's quiet, milk toast demeanor, Harold appeared gruff and restless. He had pointy facial features, short, wavy brown hair, and a 5 o'clock shadow that was fast approaching midnight. I was not impressed, to say the least. But then, I've never been particularly fond of hairy, drooling canines joining me for coffee.  You see, much to my chagrin, Chip's best buddy, Harold, turned out to be a dog.

Being of the male species, Harold was not much of a conversationalist so after a couple of pats and a reassuring, Atta boy, I decided to people-watch until Chip returned. Harold, on the other hand was doing his darnedest to attract the attention of a hot little number in a pink bow under the table across from us. Harold!  A Poodle? Surely you can do better than a Poodle, I scolded.  Good grief, I sighed to no one in particular. My life has now sunk to an all time low. I'm on a date with Barney Fife giving dating advice to a dog.

Moments later Chip appeared with two coffees and one chocolate biscotto. ONE biscotto? I don't recall being asked if I would like a cookie. Now I see where Harold gets his bad manners.

Chit-chat with Chip was boring, Harold's incessant panting was getting on my last nerve and I was ready to bag this date.  Inhaling the last few sips of coffee and mentally planning my getaway, Chip reached for the biscotto. Harrumph. I can't believe he's going to sit there and eat that thing in front of me.

Scowling, I watched Chip as he tore the wrapping with his teeth, delicately broke off a tiny piece of the cookie and placed it in the palm of his hand. Note to self - not only is Chip dull and uninteresting - he's prissy to boot.

Carefully placing the piece of cookie in his mouth, Chip began to swish it around - you know - like you would if you were mustering up a bunch of saliva to spit at someone?  No - I've never actually spit at anyone, but I would imagine that's how one would spit, if one were so inclined. 

Once Chip had swished the morsel around until it was sufficiently saturated, he spit it out and fed the wet mess to Harold. 

WH-A-A-T? I couldn't believe my eyes!  Embarrassed and completely grossed out I quickly looked away in an attempt to gather my composure. What an unbelievably uncouth, disgusting thing to do!  Reluctantly turning my attention back to the table I found Chip chattering nonsensically to Harold.  I had a plan. I would make a few quick stabs at small talk and then suddenly remember I had forgotten to feed my ferret and make a mad dash for the car.

 “So, Chip”, I asked, forcing myself to sound pleasant.  “Do you always take Harold with you on dates?”

“Oh, yes.” Chip beamed. “Whenever I take my Harley out, Harold always rides along.”

Harley Schmarley, I winced. This guy belongs on a moped.

Chip rambled on with some silly story about buying a dog helmet and what a great girl-magnet Harold was. Biting my tongue to keep from making a caustic comeback (and I had a great one), I noticed Chip breaking off another piece of the biscotto.

AARGH! No! Please tell me you're not going to do that again! Afraid to watch, yet unable to look away, I cringed as Chip inserted another cookie bit into his mouth and began salivating.  Swish...swish...swish. 

For the love of God man, I pleaded silently, swallow! Then, that which I feared most happened. Splat!  Chip spit the cookie goo out and shoveled it into Harold's gaping mug. Speechless, I watched as the feeding frenzy continued until I was no longer able to keep my mouth shut. “WHAT are YOU doing?” I shouted, not caring

 “Oh, you mean this?”, Chip replied as he pointed to his mutilated cookie. “Harold loves biscotti. Actually he’ll eat pretty much anything and everything, so I always treat him to a little piece of whatever I'm having. You should see him eat spaghetti and meatballs,” Chip beamed. “It's hilarious!”

Where is the freaking trap door, I screamed to myself.  This date, if one could call it a date, is o-v-e-r!  

While frantically trying to find my purse under the table, I caught Chip licking his right index finger.  Oh, gawd. Now what is he doing?  And just when I thought the date couldn’t get any worse – it did.

Stunned, I sat frozen in disbelief as Chip grabbed a napkin, stuck his moistened index finger in the side of Harold's head and began cleaning Harold's ears out at our table. Too horrified to speak and afraid of committing any number of violent acts that were racing through my head, I jerked back my chair and stood up. Taking one last nauseating look at Chip, I said with teeth clenched, “I. Am. Leaving.”

Wiping his finger on the napkin, Chip looked up stunned and replied, "You're leaving – just like that?”

And I did. I walked away, just like that.

Epilogue

During the writing of this story I received an email from another dating site which read:

Hello,

You seem to be a very interesting person. Would you be open to the idea of meeting one day in the near future?

Curious, I clicked on the attachment and there in the upper left-hand corner of the page was a color photo of - you guessed it – wimpy Chip and his buddy, Harold, sitting on the back of a big, fat, Harley.

So much for first impressions.