Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Do you want Coke with that?

Where I am from we question the word “coke.” Does she want a Coca-Cola or did she want all twenty-three flavors in that Dr.Pepper? Never did I imagine looking up from a text message and begging the question, “Is he referring to the soda or the drug?”

“I’m so tired,” The text read. “I can’t decide to get a coffee…or coke. Lol”

To be honest, I should have known anyone making a joke about doing a drug to a practical stranger, probably wasn’t making a joke. (I should have also gone with my intuition of repulsion to the use of “Lol.”) Instead, I channeled my sister’s constant advice to “just try.” (Note: I am no longer a fan of taking my sister’s advice.) 

On our first date, everything seemed normal. He was the typical Jewish boy: Exactly one inch taller than me, a case of the nasal voice and had a strange sense of entitlement. So obviously it was good enough to warrant a second date. 

On the second date, this Cali Non-NJB talked about the crazy parties he attends. Fine. He bragged about his medical Marijuana license. Fine. He then told me about the last party he attended where there was an area dedicated for attendees to enjoy Coke…and he didn’t mean soda. Nope. NOPE.

After leaving the restaurant, he suggested we continue the night in my apartment, and I suggested he go home.  Unfortunately…very unfortunately, my suggestion fell on deaf ears. He put his arm around me while walking, and I was forced to put my arm awkwardly above his and around his shoulders since my short wedges put me in the awkward position of being taller. 

Finally, standing outside my apartment, could it be? Could the date finally be over? Wrong! He went in for the kiss. Now, I have had my share of bad kissers. Hell, I’ve probably been someone else’s bad kiss. But this, my dear reader, this was a kiss to give you the heebie-jeebies.  The only way to describe this unwanted interaction is to equate it to the limp fish handshake…I was left questioning if his lips even did anything.

When he texted to ask me on a third date referring to me as “Baby,” I told him there were issues I was uncomfortable with so it was best to not continue. When he asked what the issues were, I politely told him that marketing himself as an NJB on our first date was falsifying information.

With that I continued my search for an NJB who is a fan of the soda and not the drug.

1 comment:

  1. Very happy to read this post!
    Signed: Your very proud mother