Sam and The Time I Went on a Date with a Racist

I don’t know how Sam got past my defenses.

Over the past 3 years of being single (and the dating stories you’ve all been enjoying) I’ve gotten really good at picking out the bad apples. This may be unfortunate for you, as there is a finite supply of crazy bad date stories, but it is much better for me, my sanity, and my mental health.

I think because Sam was from Seattle I assumed he would be like the other progressive, forward-thinking people I’d met from there. His messages had a sweet, gentlemanly charm about them. Many might still technically label him a gentleman, but I don’t have time to waste dating a project.

The first red flag was that he switched venues for dinner on the night of our date to be closer to his place, which he later revealed to me was because he didn’t have a car. I could excuse that because he had just moved and I had been in a similar situation recently. I was still slightly annoyed because the burden of finding a venue was put on me, at the last second, because I’m a vegetarian and I had to find a place where I could eat something.

The next red flag was that after I had made it to the venue, I was quickly overwhelmed as I walked into a very loud game of trivia. I met Sam at the bar, but it was kinda hard to hear. He suggested we go somewhere else, but that left me even more flustered because I didn’t want to have to screen MORE menus after I had already decided that this location was good to eat at. I was also getting to the point of hangry. He noticed this and said “you get anxious easily, don’t you?”

Wow, way to make a girl feel self conscious.

I quickly ordered an appetizer, since he was one of those people that seemed to keep talking forever rather than decide on what to eat first, and THEN have a conversation.

I knew things were going past the point of no return when within the first 15 minutes of the date he mentioned that he was freshly divorced. Not like several months, but like several DAYS.

Me: “You didn’t think to mention that in your profile… at all?”

Him: “I didn’t want people to not meet up with me because of that”

Do you even hear yourself, bro? That is so deceiving and disrespectful. I would NOT have been on the date if he had mentioned it, due to my previous experience with Jorge.

He continued to explain how OVER HER he was in great detail. Of course you are over her. 100%. Totally.

So at this point in the date I knew I didn’t want to see him again. I am completely not opposed to dating divorced men, but there is a limit to the time gap that I am willing to accept, and within the WEEK is not in that range.

But for as tough as I may seem, I’m actually terrible at being cold to people in real life, so I couldn’t make myself just stand up and go. Plus we were in the process of ordering food and I was really fucking hungry.

What happened next may in fact be the single most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me in my life. Okay, maybe behind the one time I asked a boy to the 8th grade farewell dance… via note that I had my friend leave in his things during band class. Middle school children are so mature.

I don’t even know what topic brought up the ensuing madness. I think I blacked it out of my memory. But somehow we got on the topic of activism and politics, which I SHOULD have screened him for before meeting in person. I always do, it’s a necessity nowadays.

Because of the aforementioned dissociative amnesia, instead of typing out his whole ranting diatribe, I will relay to you a few choice quotes:

“I am proud to be a white man. Why shouldn’t I be proud?”

“The Irish immigrants in America were treated just as poorly as The Blacks.”

“Are you an equality feminist or one of those man hating feminists?”

“I don’t see color.”

“Only two types of people have ever been called the N word…. Black and Irish.”

This lasted for a good ten minutes. He was just monologuing to himself, at max volume, at the bar with bartenders of color within earshot, as I sat there shoving garlic bread into my mouth non-stop, eyes wide in horror, and cowering in second hand embarrassment. I was making a mental list of pros and cons of just getting up and leaving, wishing instead that I could just evaporate into a fine mist and disappear.

My brain during this tirade: I hate being rude to people… but this is so bad… what if I just… said I was going to the bathroom and ran? But also he is large and clearly the type of person with problematic views that might assault me… And *I have food coming*. He probably wouldn’t pay for/ tip the bar staff if I left…

Somehow he ended up on the topic of sex, because of course a guy like this is going to end up there at some point. I think by then my morbid curiosity got the best of me and I just decided to see how far I could push him.

He told me that he was totally down for a threesome with two women, and had always wanted to try it. But when I questioned him, he couldn’t POSSIBLY fathom the idea of why anyone would want to have a threesome with two men. He was literally bewildered and never considered that as a possibility.

He also tried to mansplain to me the definition of polyamory. “That’s when you also like those transgendereds.” Double-whammy.

Needless to say I didn’t see him again. I kept enough distance between us at the end of the night so he didn’t even think about trying to kiss me. I might have vomited in his mouth.

P.S. If anyone has any questions as to why literally everything he said was problematic, I’d love to explain below.

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