The Date from Hell

Indeed, when we reached the entrance to the restaurant, I made the monumental mistake of opening the door for her. Oh woe is me.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, visibly irritated.

"What?" I asked.

"Why did you open the door?" she asked back.

"Well, isn't it customary to open doors in places that you are supposed to enter?" I answered, perplexed.

"Why did you open the door *for me*? Don't you think that I can open my own doors? Am I too weak in your eyes to open the door?" she asked, with a very irritated posture. And she went in, not looking back, leaving a very perplexed me holding the door to... myself.

Shit. When it goes South, it goes to the South Pole. When it rains, we have Noah and the Arc and the fucking Cataclysm all over again. She is not just an independent woman, Joyce, you little shit. She is a fucking feminazi!

Shit. Shickety Shit. Fuckity Fuck. Thank the Universe for Amanda and her repertoire. Just my fucking luck. Joyce, I will murder you. Even if I love you to pieces. Actually that would be fitting, actualizing the metaphor.

"Hello. A reservation for two in the name Alice Johnson, please." she said with a bossy attitude to the attendant, who immediately looked into the reservations list and nodded with a smile. After a few awkward and very silent minutes, we were escorted to our table and were seated. All the while, I realized a few things.

First of all, she actually made her own reservations for this. This was an arrangement in the decision process of which I was obviously *calculated* not to be a factor, and also the fact to be shoved in my face. She wanted to prove her dominance, or supremacy, or some stupid shit like that. But then, why the ruse of asking me where I thought we should go? OK, to be honest, I did not ask her either. However, in most cases if I hadn't planned ahead of a date, I was taken to be a wimp - I actually learned that the hard way. So what I did was to plan ahead, as was usually expected of me as the 'man' in the date. If for some reason it fell through, no problem - I was always flexible enough, so that if for some reason my plans were not welcome, I could always adapt and ensure the good continuation of the date. But it was all based on some sort of communication, agreement, something. And good will.

This here was something else, completely different. She only asked me just for the sake of asking. Then she shot it down, and she would have, no matter what the suggestion might have been from my part. She had already made a reservation herself, so any suggestion of mine was to have the same fate anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if she even made TWO reservations, so that she would still have an alternative to shoot me down if, by any chance, I proposed what she actually had in mind. She did not ask me if I liked it or not, something which I did when I told her my plans. She could have asked me on the phone when we talked earlier, or if she had such a hard-on with the planning, she could have just straight-up told me that she would arrange where we would go. As I don't know her, I would probably be OK with it. But no, she basically ambushed me just to make her point: she let me plan, so she would be able to shoot the plans down, as a show of power. Her point was to make sure I understood who is the boss. As if I wanted to be the boss of anyone. It is social norms that make us behave a certain way, and we are not born obeying these norms - other women taught me them, and I learned to accept them if I was to have a date in my life to begin with.

And now, she wants to shoot the social norms down, by shooting my suggestion down - which was nothing written in stone anyway. You know what? Screw the norms, no problem. But don't make me the guilty party here! I am no champion of patriarchy! I just did what I was supposed to do in virtually all other dates I ever had. If you don't like the norms, just say so beforehand, and no problem. Don't try to make me the bad guy in something that I did not create, but actually learned from people of your sex as a prerequisite to dating! "If you don't plan ahead, it shows that you rely on me to do this, and it's a man's job." a former date had told me once some time ago. "And if you forget to feed me, I forget my vagina at home!" she continued. Now, I didn't want to date a girl with her genitals at home, so I made sure I did as they asked. Again, *as they asked*. But that *they* there is not a universal thing now, is it? Each woman her own agendas. And people wonder why people are alone.

On the other hand, me and Alice live in the same society, so she knows all of the aforementioned. As I said, this was proving a point for her. This sucked on so fucking many levels. 'Independent woman' - Joyce, you little shit...

"Well, Rob. You didn't answer my question." she interrupted my thoughts.

"Question? About the door?"

"Yes. About the door. Why did you presuppose that I wanted the door to be opened for me? Do I show to be weak? A damsel in distress? A girl waiting for her knight in a shining armor? Is that the picture I convey to you?"

Well, that was it. One more date down the drain.

"Alice, I think you got it all wrong."

"Really? So I am stupid now?" she asked accusingly. Almost ready to erupt.

I took a deep breath to control my temper.

"No."

Silence. Both of us staring at one another.

"I didn't take you for stupid. I didn't take you for weak." I said in a controlled manner.

"So, then, what did you take me for?"

"Nothing." I said in a very neutral manner.

"What? What do you mean 'nothing'?" she asked with her lids half-closed.

"Well, I suppose it is a bit obvious that I don't know you at all. I have absolutely no idea who you are. What your personality is like. I cannot make any assumptions about you before I get to know you. I have not formed an opinion of you yet. Ergo, nothing. No opinion whatsoever."

Her stare was increasingly combative. Well, as I said, it just wasn't meant to be.

"So on the one hand I am shockingly beautiful, and on the other you have no opinion of me, whatsoever?"

"Yes, pretty much. I can see you are beautiful, but I know nothing else about you, except by our continuing interaction of course."

"I am sorry, Rob, but I find that hard to believe."

"Why?"

"Because you, like all men, always have a power game going. You try to make us feel beautiful and wanted, but on the other hand you also want us to feel protected, as you have been taught to do from a young age, because we women are 'weak and vulnerable', or maybe that is what you need to have us believe so that the power game you throw our way has some actual outcome in your favor. You take an instant attitude to gauge us along, albeit in a gentle manner, to be the 'saved maidens' by the gallant but masculine and heroic knights, who will have saved us and thus, have a right over us and, finally, our bodies. Today, that would be you opening our doors for us, buying us meals, taking us out for dinner and a movie and insisting on paying for all that. This of course constitutes a preconceived opinion, stereotypical as it may be. And all that for what?"

"I believe that I understand where you are taking this, although I do not really agree with your assessment, but in any case, I do suppose you will enlighten me?" I asked, a bit bemused.

"Yes, I will definitely enlighten you, especially after that smug look on your face. You are doing all this just to have sex!" she said with a half-triumphant, half-self-justifying look.

Ooops again.

"Excuse me, but did I ever state such an intention to you? Did I ever say that I am taking you out so that we end up having sex?"

"Well, that is the expected outcome in the end, isn't it?" she half-asked, half-stated. All halves that day.

"Well, it can be, if we both feel that way. Or it won't be if one of us is not in such a mood. It might simply evolve to friendship, or casual acquaintance, or even a person to be avoided at all costs in the future. All these are frequent outcomes for all of us." I said.

"If you were not interested in sex, then why did you bring up my looks first thing? And why the 'gallantry'?" she asked in a semi-suspicious look.

"Because you are that beautiful that I was taken aback." I said in all honesty. "I do find you incredibly beautiful. And of course, as a male I am preprogrammed to want to have sex with beautiful women. I never said I am not interested in sex. But I am not interested in rape, thank you very much. If I find that a woman that is sexually attractive to me doesn't see me in the same way, as a prospective sexual partner, I stay away from similar thinking patterns regarding said individual. I do not impose myself on others, and definitely not when it comes to personal issues. And I do consider sex to be a highly personal issue, thank you very much."

"Oh, come on! The moment you saw me you wanted to bed me, I saw it in your eyes. Don't try lying, it won't do you any good!" she retorted.

"Lying? In what part of what I said did I lie?" I asked her.

"I said 'don't lie', not that you did lie. I said that you did want to bed me the moment you saw me, and that is a fact, and we both know it!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, so now I have to apologize for my genetic makeup too? Yes, I am a virile hetero male. Which means I find some women desirable. You happen to be extremely desirable in the looks department - the rest I simply have no idea about; desirable to me and I am sure to many other people as well. I was genetically programmed to want to mate with women as good-looking as you. However, I am not a rapist. I wouldn't actually have sex with a woman if she did not want it back. No matter how desirable I found her looks."

"See? You did want to bed me!" she exclaimed once again.

This is not even irritating any more. It is downright annoying.

"If you are referring to my initial attraction to you based on your looks, I did find you extremely attractive, sure. I already admitted to that. However, it is pretty much the same for all humans. You might have made the decision that I am not attractive to you based on that same initial contact, or you might have decided that you would actually find me sexually interesting, the same way as you are to me. It is not a male game, it is a human game. And since it is the primary way our species has reproduced for hundreds of millennia, I have no problem with that. Why would you?"

"Oh yes, please do blame it all on biology now. Nice save!" she said in a condescending tone.

"Blame what on biology? Sexual attraction? What should I blame it on except biology in your opinion?"

"Maybe the way you have been raised? And I am not talking about the attraction part. But about your visual and so vulgar expression of you wanting to bed me!" she retorted.

"Vulgar? I am sorry but I don't think I was vulgar. If you found that I was, I truly apologize. But I just couldn't help be amazed by your looks, you truly are that beautiful. And I definitely did not utter a word! And, to be honest, it was not the sex that permeated my mind when I saw you, but just how beautiful you are. I am afraid you may be taking this out of context." I told her, pretty perplexed.

"Look, you may be attracted to me and that is your prerogative, but fucking me with your eyes is taking it to another level, and that part is learned. You have learned that you have the right to express this to women. And that is so wrong on so many levels." she explained, to my utter astonishment.

"Fucking you with my eyes?" I droned. I was actually at a loss of words. I took a deep breath, and tried to put some sense into the discussion.

"Look," I answered. "I think you misinterpreted my fascination with your looks with a sexual predator's eyes or something in that vain, but I assure you that I am not a sexual predator. In fact quite the opposite. I absolutely cannot function sexually if the woman is not 100% on board as well. On the other hand, the attraction I believe to be a genetic matter. How we cope with it and how we behave due to it or despite it, are as far as I know, both genetic and environment-related, learned. BUT: the basic instincts are hard-wired into the brain, and I do think they are genetically programmed. I think research backs this up too, although I do have to say it is not my field. Still, I will not apologize for my initial shock at your beauty, since I have a right to find you as beautiful as I did, and this probably is how I was created as a zygote. The interpretation of my initial shock as a predator's look is totally your prerogative, nothing to do with my state of mind. Besides, I believe it is highly hypocritical to claim that women are any different."

"What do you mean?" she asked in an increasingly angry tone.

"I am simply stating the obvious. Sexual predators come in all sexes. There do exist quite a few women sexual predators and all sorts of sexual deviants like pedophiles and all. Women are no saints. Plus, I have seen truly hungry stares from females, and they rival the look of any sex-starved male out there. Also, when you first see a person, the only thing you know about them is how they look. And a lot of the attraction game at its early stages is based on that. So, what you said about me is most probably true of all humans irrespective of sex and definitely not true beyond a few seconds. Now, for the whole 'wanting to bed you' thing, I still say and I mean it, it was not sex I had in mind. Just pure fascination with an extremely beautiful woman in front of me, I swear." I answered.

"So you are just like everyone else out there?

the stares you gave me is what I should expect from every Tom, Dick and Harry out there? You are the norm, Rob? If you are the way you are, everyone is like you? Really now?" Alice snapped.

"Actually, I meant it the other way around, I think you hear what you want to hear and filter out everything else. What I meant is that the basic mechanism is the same in all of us for the most part. After the first few seconds, visuals don't matter as much as the entirety of the package, so to speak. The overall opinion of the person which we form based on interactions with said person starts to weigh in more and more." I explained.

"Mansplaining relationship mechanics now, Rob? To a woman? Really?" she retorted, even more condescendingly than before.

"Oh Lord. 'Mansplaining'? Really? What is this? A feminist conference? Plus, you presuppose you know more about relationships just because you are a woman, and women are experts on relationships? You have a genetic advantage in knowing about relationships against all men because of your sex? Is that what you are saying here?" I asked her.

Point for me, I guess. Whatever.

"By the way," I continued, "you, Alice, are the one accusing me, and I need to explain myself to counter your accusations in a, to me, satisfactory manner. I don't like to be presumed a potential rapist, sexual predator or anything of the kind, I assure you. Therefore I do need to explain my position. If me being a man trying to explain things to you, a woman, makes me 'mansplain', something that I find totally ridiculous as a term to begin with, but that's just me, then OK, I 'mansplain' relationship mechanics to a woman from my own perspective, as I believe that is what you asked me to do." I answered, as cool as I could.

"I didn't ask you to explain anything, but you did, and by the usual tactics of either blaming it all on biology, or half-accept and half-deny that you wanna fuck me, or by using passive-aggressive tactics of eras long gone like gallantry and all that jazz, and basically making all this seem like an overall nice and normal thing. Well, I have news for you, it ain't good!" she answered. "You never thought that I might not be comfortable with you so blatantly showing me that you want to screw me!" she snapped.

"Are you serious?" I asked her, totally perplexed.

"You bet I am. Do not confuse the situation: what you feel or want is your own problem. The way you communicate it however is my problem too. Who gave you the right to look at me like that?" she asked me with an accusing manner.

This was going more South than Antarctica, Mach 30.

"OK Alice, let me ask you a question. Have you ever crushed on a famous male actor? As a teen or young adult?" I asked her.

"Of course." she answered.

"Well, who gave you the right to undress him with your eyes?" I asked her, smiling.

"I never did that to his face, as you did today!" she exclaimed.

"Really now? All these women that scream at the stars they see, you think they don't bed them with their eyes? Of course they do! And they didn't ask for permission!" I retorted. "And don't even go there, flattering yourself that I looked at you like a groupie a rockstar, because that has nothing to do with what happened, just to be clear on this."

"Oh, so now it is double standards? You are fighting for the rights of men to ogle women as female fans ogle stars? Or for male stars' right to be asked for permission in order to be adored by female fans? Is that it? Male rights issues?" she asked with a venomous smile.

"You label stuff that wou don't want to answer, or is it my idea, Alice? The easy way out? Or is it just me?" I asked her.

She didn't respond. She seemed to be fuming.

"To be honest, I didn't know I actually had to fight for anyone's rights today, Alice." I continued. "This was a revelation to me, on so many levels. What can I say, never a boring day in my life!"

"Sarcasm just hit a new low." she said with evident disgust.

OK, that's it. It has been fun, folks, but this particular shitshow must end. ASAP.

"Oh, dear Lord. Alice, I don't even need to set the record straight here anymore. I believe that we are wasting our time. Please, PLEASE do not be alarmed by me wanting you sexually. I would rather us not have much to do with each other from now on, at all in fact. From the dating possibilities that I mentioned, you made ours clear as day and please believe me here, I heartfully accept. Mutual avoidance at all costs, no contact whatsoever, ever again. For eternity and then some. Message received loud and clear, accepted, notarized, taken before judge and jury." I answered, trying to keep myself under control as much as I could.

"What the hell did you just say?" she asked with half-closed eyes, in fury.

"Exactly what you heard Alice. No more, no less." I answered, this time completely prepared to fight. This was the mother of disasters, and I need not pull any punches, figuratively speaking of course.

As she was getting ready to immerse herself into the fight of the century, the waiter came to take our order. The waiter asked us both, but she took the lead, and ordered Martinis for both of us. She ordered drinks instead of food in a restaurant, she decided that for both of us, and she also decided what drinks we would both have! She actually decided my own fucking drink! This was just too fucking much. I was beyond pissed.

"Would you change one of the Martini's to a White Russian, please?" I asked the waiter.

"Certainly, sir." he replied wide-eyed and left briskly.

Now she was pissed.

"So a Martini was not good enough for you?" she asked angrily.

"No, Alice, it wasn't. I don't like Martinis. I prefer White Russians. Is that a problem?" I asked defiantly.

"Well, you could have told me, and not embarrass me in front of the waiter!" she countered accusingly.

"When? When could I have told you? You unilaterally decided for everything: the place, if we order food or drink, and you actually ordered my drink without even asking me what I like! I never was given a chance to tell you what I would actually like or not! You made all the decisions on your own. How can you treat people like that?" I asked her.