i never wanted to date a man with long nails. yet, there i was, at an upscale sushi restaurant, trapped, sitting in front of a man whose nails were much longer than mine.
and they were lacquered.
it was a first date. we were supposed to have dinner and head to a club for an event his frat was hosting. i took extra time to ensure that there was no lipstick on my teeth…and that i looked good enough so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by me. I greeted him with a quick hug, then sized him up. All I saw was a fairly attractive black man.
Instead of complementing my outfit, he stated, “you look cold.” And then, “you’re tall.” Okay, so I’m tall–5’8 in bare feet, and at around 6′ when I wear heels. But he was taller than me, even when I was in heels, so it didn’t matter. And I was cold: it was November. It would have been enough to stay, “hey, you look great. let’s get you inside before you freeze to death.”
I ignored his statements and we walked to the restaurant. I sat down. Without saying a word, he shook his head and pointed to another seat. It was a pimp move, meant to intimidate and control me. I moved my seat, almost fearful of what would happen if I didn’t.
As he wrapped his hands around his water glass, I had to control a gasp. He had the longest, shiniest nails I have ever seen. Not one nail–but ALL 10 were LONG. They were impeccably manicured, and my own manicure, procured earlier that day, could in no way compete. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them, but I couldn’t ask him about them either. There is something so WRONG about a man who is 6’3 and about 250 lbs sporting long, shiny nails. I spent the entire time wondering if he was trapped in the closet. If he was, I wished he’d come out and save all the single women on the planet the excruciating pain of being on a date with him.
In addition to his nails, and the way he would routinely belittle me, he spent the ENTIRE DINNER talking about his fraternity. I love men in frats; most of them are gentlemen who know not to discuss in detail the hazing that goes on. I don’t want to date a man who tells me that he can make a grown man cry without using a paddle. LORD JESUS. And he was boring. If I had to hear “and then I went to the fish fry” one more time I was going to throw myself out of the window, glass and all.
The date was so terrible that I played along to its bitter end. The most embarrassing moment is when we walked by scantily clad women. “I want to ask her if her coochie ever gets cold,” he said.
I was stunned into silence.
He walked me back to my car, where I saw I had received a $25 ticket. He chuckled. “That sucks,” he said.
And it did. The whole date sucked. I wasted gas and time and energy to sit with an insecure man who spent more time doing his nails than he does reading books.
The date was so terrible that I decided right then and there to call up the guy I met earlier that day. And best believe, when I got a ticket while hanging out with C., he paid for it.
wishing you better dates than this,