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Deal Breakers


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Life's supposed to be an adventure, isn't it?!?  If you're not adventurous when it comes to eating, that must translate to (ahem) other areas, and I'm just not willing to put up with that!  :wink:

Other areas? I'm sure you mean travel and literature, of course. :wink:

I agree, though. I'm not a picky eater, though there are things I don't love - but there's nothing I won't try at least twice (not once - I believe in giving everything a second chance). I can't STAND people who are sticks in the mud about food.

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

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It had been a fine first date, nothing exciting, but certainly not the kind of date that makes for horror stories that you trot out over the second bottle of wine.

Until the end.

We were driving back, and he asked if I was hungry and would like to have dinner. I was, and I did.

He suggested a Mexican place nearby that he knew and liked. I'd never heard of it, but I like Mexican, and said that it sounded good to me.

He suddenly looked visibly relieved, as if a giant worry had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Oh, good," he said. "I was SO afraid you wouldn't want to eat there. I always throw up when I eat at new restaurants."

That's when I knew this wasn't going anywhere. Ever.

The Mexican restaurant turned out to be quite good, a real family place, but I could not imagine eating there and only there for the rest of my life.

Marcia.

Don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he wanted...he lived happily ever after. -- Willy Wonka

eGullet foodblog

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Does post-restaurant behavior count?

Once a girl and I had pizza and then went to a movie. While we sat in the lit theater waiting for the movie to start, she pulled a pack of dental floss from her purse and started to floss her teeth.

Yes. Right there in the movie theater seat.

I wanted to crawl into the seat crevice and hide. In fact, if she had not driven us that night, I would have gotten up and left.

There are two sides to every story and one side to a Möbius band.

borschtbelt.blogspot.com

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My last boyfriend was really into fitness and bodybuilding, and his kitchen contained only these things (he ate them in massive quantities, mind you, but only these things):

Fat free yogurt (strawberry banana)

Whole wheat bread

Sliced deli turkey

Fat-free "cheese" slices

Eggs

Chips with salsa (Tostito's brand only)

Cheddar Goldfish

Plain chicken breasts, grilled in the Foreman

Oatmeal, plain

Bananas

Gatorade

He lived a couple hours away, so when I went to see him, I was usually staying for a few days...I got pretty creative combining these things to make edible meals for myself. :wacko:

He thought a $30 steak was a ridiculous waste, and refused to even taste a glass of wine ("what's the point of drinking if you're not getting drunk?")

The real deal-breaker, however, was the nickname he gave me when he learned just how deeply I love to cook and eat: "Fatty." :blink:

"It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you."

-Nigel Slater

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He thought a $30 steak was a ridiculous waste, and refused to even taste a glass of wine ("what's the point of drinking if you're not getting drunk?")

The real deal-breaker, however, was the nickname he gave me when he learned just how deeply I love to cook and eat: "Fatty."  :blink:

I never really understood the whole idea of 'getting drunk is fun' thing. I have an endogenous disulfiram reaction so I can't get drunk. You know that Antabuse pill that some alcoholics have to take that makes them sick after two glasses of wine? I naturally have that. And yes, it sucks - no wine flights for me. :sad:

And anyone who would nickname a partner 'Fatty' after theor own projected insecurities deserves to have random body parts stapled to a moving bus! :angry: Good of you to have dropped him! :angry:

" ..Is simplicity the best

Or simply the easiest

The narrowest path

Is always the holiest.. "

--Depeche Mode - Judas

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I had a GF who insisted on buying "Fat Free" everything. I won't touch "Fat Free" products and only like to eat food thats the real deal.

Read - Butter, mayonnaise, salad dressing, milk and so on.

Needless to say she and I are no longer an item. :smile:

Smell and taste are in fact but a single composite sense, whose laboratory is the mouth and its chimney the nose. - Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

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1. A truly and proudly lousy tipper (not precisely an eating habit, but a dealbreaker all the same. Asshole had even WORKED as a server).

2. (same guy) the mild salsa at my then-favorite Mex place in Phoenix was "too spicyyyyyy" for him (there was nothing containing heat in the salsa. I asked) and the green chile and bean quesadilla was "too weird." :blink: What a WHINER.

3. (same guy! I was a dumbass in my early 20's) favorite food? McDonald's, to the extent that he ate there twice a day REGARDLESS OF WHETHER OR NOT WE WERE MAKING A MEAL AT HOME. Can you spell divorce? I consider him lucky to be still alive - no jury would ever have convicted me.

Thank goodness for slkinsey, who eats brains and stuff. :biggrin:

Basil endive parmesan shrimp live

Lobster hamster worchester muenster

Caviar radicchio snow pea scampi

Roquefort meat squirt blue beef red alert

Pork hocs side flank cantaloupe sheep shanks

Provolone flatbread goat's head soup

Gruyere cheese angelhair please

And a vichyssoise and a cabbage and a crawfish claws.

--"Johnny Saucep'n," by Moxy Früvous

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In addition to my post on this topic in Ya-Roo's/Bond Girl's funny and brilliant "Dining and Discipline" thread,

a) Leaning over the food, gripping the cultery caveman style, and shoveling the food into his mouth, only pausing every third or fourth mouthful to actually chew or really taste the food (actually at home perhaps after you've gotten to know the guy and his good qualities, I suppose this could become endearing, to a point). 

b) After the food has been lovingly plated, Mr. Pre-school commences to swirl everything together "since it's all gonna end up in the same place anyway." Yes, that one really happened to me. 

c) Making a move on my plate, spearing a piece of food while saying "you're not gonna eat that are ya?" This last one might get you "kilt" for real.

I have to add:

d) Heavy breathing while eating. I mean REALLY heavy breathing, as in making an annoying, wheezy, whistling-like sound through their nostrils, inhaling/exhaling vigorously. I have been around people who do this--both male and female--and find it incredibly nauseating. Also, I've observed that this behavior (gag) usually accompanies the objectionable behavior as noted in a) above. Of course, heavy breathing after dinner is perfectly acceptable. :smile:

e) Making that infantile, scrunchy face and/or that stupefied, mouth hanging open face when presented with something different. It's not that I object to inquiring about a dish or cuisine or ingredient that one has never tasted before, it's the "euwwwww, what is that?" type of inquiry that sends me over the edge.

I'm sure there's more..................................... :hmmm:

Inside me there is a thin woman screaming to get out, but I can usually keep the Bitch quiet: with CHOCOLATE!!!

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d) Heavy breathing while eating.  I mean REALLY heavy breathing, as in making an annoying, wheezy, whistling-like sound through their nostrils, inhaling/exhaling vigorously.  I have been around people who do this--both male and female--and find it incredibly nauseating.  Also, I've observed that this behavior (gag) usually accompanies the objectionable behavior as noted in a) above.  Of course, heavy breathing after dinner is perfectly acceptable. :smile:

Yes, yes - this usually comes hand in hand with not stopping between bites. I know someone who does this, and I don't like him to begin with, and this just puts him over the top of my wall. EW.

Edited by Megan Blocker (log)

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

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d) Heavy breathing while eating.  I mean REALLY heavy breathing, as in making an annoying, wheezy, whistling-like sound through their nostrils, inhaling/exhaling vigorously.  I have been around people who do this--both male and female--and find it incredibly nauseating.  Also, I've observed that this behavior (gag) usually accompanies the objectionable behavior as noted in a) above.  Of course, heavy breathing after dinner is perfectly acceptable. :smile:

Yes, yes - this usually comes hand in hand with not stopping between bites. I know someone who does this, and I don't like them to begin with, and this just puts them over the top of my wall. EW.

Thanks Megan. I was beginning to think I was the only one out there who notices or is annoyed by that one! :rolleyes:

Inside me there is a thin woman screaming to get out, but I can usually keep the Bitch quiet: with CHOCOLATE!!!

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It was a blind date...internet dating is a crapshoot, but hey, I was reckless and bored.

So dude shows up at the door...email confabs and photos confirmed that he was somewhat athletic (I am not) and that he was a distance runner (I am SO not). Works as a therapist of some kind (should have been a clue). So I open the door to a man who is at least 15 years older than his photo...who is clearly no longer an athletic type because he has either suffered a stroke or been injured in some way. I wasn't rude enough to ask. I figured what the heck, he seemed nice in the email, and it's only coffee. We get out to his truck and there is a) a german shepherd in the back seat and b) a blanket over the front seat were I am to sit. I get in, and he says 'sorry about the blanket, I didn't have time to vacuum the dog hair'. Alrighty then. We go about 5 blocks to the local coffee bar (with the dog growling at me all the way because I am in her seat) and go inside. I don't like this man already and am plotting ways to get away. He stares at the menu on the wall and asks the poor barista about 30 questions about the various drinks and then orders a plain cup of coffee, small. I ordered my usual, some kind of sugar free mocha thing, which comes with one of those chocolate sticks. We sit down and I am straining to be polite but it's hard. I pick up the chocolate stick and am about to stick it in my mouth when he grabs my hand and the following ensues:

Him: Do you really need to eat that?

ME: HUH?

Him: Well, you clearly have weight issues.

ME: WHAAAAAA?

Him: Well, you have a 'pretty face' but face it, you are fat. You should show

some self control and not eat everything you can get your hands on.

ME: WHAT THE F*(#*@*$Q(#@$YQ(@*&$(&$#*(&!$(&%(#&$)!@$)%()!*@)Q#&%#&(@%)*#%)*#)*%)*)#*)#*%)*)!%)(&!$)& AND JUST EXACTLY WHO THE H!)(@U#)*@#*&!)@*$)@$*)!@&$)*&!@)$&)!@*# ARE YOU ANYWAY BLEEEEEEEEEEP BLEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP !@#!@$#$%@^$@&$%*&$*

Him: Well done. That was a very impressive display. Now everyone knows how well you can swear. Did that make you feel grown up?

ME: Chuck you, Farley.

Him: Now that you have that out of your system, let's get back to your weight issues. Tell me what your Mother is like.

ME: AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH. (followed by me running away and locking myself in my apartment.)

Of course I can laugh about it now. We have a few mutual friends...we saw him at a party last year. I am married and very happy with a man who loves me, warts and all. He still has his dog.

Don't try to win over the haters. You're not the jackass whisperer."

Scott Stratten

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Him:  Do you really need to eat that?

ME:    HUH?

Him:  Well, you clearly have weight issues. 

ME:    WHAAAAAA?

Him:  Well, you have a 'pretty face' but face it, you are fat.  You should show 

        some self control and not eat everything you can get your hands on.

ME:    WHAT THE F*(#*@*$Q(#@$YQ(@*&$(&$#*(&!$(&%(#&$)!@$)%()!*@)Q#&%#&(@%)*#%)*#)*%)*)#*)#*%)*)!%)(&!$)& AND JUST EXACTLY WHO THE H!)(@U#)*@#*&!)@*$)@$*)!@&$)*&!@)$&)!@*# ARE YOU ANYWAY BLEEEEEEEEEEP  BLEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP  !@#!@$#$%@^$@&$%*&$*

Him:  Well done.  That was a very impressive display.  Now everyone knows how well you can swear.  Did that make you feel grown up? 

ME:  Chuck you, Farley.

Him:  Now that you have that out of your system, let's get back to your weight issues.  Tell me what your Mother is like.

ME:  AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH.  (followed by me running away and locking myself in my apartment.)

No way. NO WAY.

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

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It was a blind date...internet dating is a crapshoot, but hey, I was reckless and bored.

So dude shows up at the door...email confabs and photos confirmed that he was somewhat athletic (I am not) and that he was a distance runner (I am SO not).  Works as a therapist of some kind (should have been a clue).  So I open the door to a man who is at least 15 years older than his photo...who is clearly no longer an athletic type because he has either suffered a stroke or been injured in some way.  I wasn't rude enough to ask.  I figured what the heck, he seemed nice in the email, and it's only coffee.    We get out to his truck and there is a) a german shepherd in the back seat and b) a blanket over the front seat were I am to sit.  I get in, and he says 'sorry about the blanket, I didn't have time to vacuum the dog hair'.  Alrighty then.  We go about 5 blocks to the local coffee bar (with the dog growling at me all the way because I am in her seat) and go inside.  I don't like this man already and am plotting ways to get away.  He stares at the menu on the wall and asks the poor barista about 30 questions about the various drinks and then orders a plain cup of coffee, small.  I ordered my usual,  some kind of sugar free mocha thing, which comes with one of those chocolate sticks.  We sit down and I am straining to be polite but it's hard.  I pick up the chocolate stick and am about to stick it in my mouth when he grabs my hand and the following ensues:

Him:  Do you really need to eat that?

ME:    HUH?

Him:  Well, you clearly have weight issues. 

ME:    WHAAAAAA?

Him:  Well, you have a 'pretty face' but face it, you are fat.  You should show 

        some self control and not eat everything you can get your hands on.

ME:    WHAT THE F*(#*@*$Q(#@$YQ(@*&$(&$#*(&!$(&%(#&$)!@$)%()!*@)Q#&%#&(@%)*#%)*#)*%)*)#*)#*%)*)!%)(&!$)& AND JUST EXACTLY WHO THE H!)(@U#)*@#*&!)@*$)@$*)!@&$)*&!@)$&)!@*# ARE YOU ANYWAY BLEEEEEEEEEEP  BLEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP  !@#!@$#$%@^$@&$%*&$*

Him:  Well done.  That was a very impressive display.  Now everyone knows how well you can swear.  Did that make you feel grown up? 

ME:  Chuck you, Farley.

Him:  Now that you have that out of your system, let's get back to your weight issues.  Tell me what your Mother is like.

ME:  AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH.  (followed by me running away and locking myself in my apartment.)

Of course I can laugh about it now.  We have a few mutual friends...we saw him at a party last year.  I am married and very happy with a man who loves me, warts and all.  He still has his dog.

:blink:

Really? Wow. What an odd way to go about trolling for new clients. I can't imagine he really wanted a date.

He brought the dog? On a first date? What if you were allergic or something? What a self-absorbed asshole! Thank god he still has his dog. He'll need the company with those manners. I'm surprised he even has friends.

Katie M. Loeb
Booze Muse, Spiritual Advisor

Author: Shake, Stir, Pour:Fresh Homegrown Cocktails

Cheers!
Bartendrix,Intoxicologist, Beverage Consultant, Philadelphia, PA
Captain Liberty of the Good Varietals, Aphrodite of Alcohol

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It was a blind date...internet dating is a crapshoot, but hey, I was reckless and bored.

So dude shows up at the door...email confabs and photos confirmed that he was somewhat athletic (I am not) and that he was a distance runner (I am SO not).  Works as a therapist of some kind (should have been a clue).  So I open the door to a man who is at least 15 years older than his photo...who is clearly no longer an athletic type because he has either suffered a stroke or been injured in some way.  I wasn't rude enough to ask.  I figured what the heck, he seemed nice in the email, and it's only coffee.    We get out to his truck and there is a) a german shepherd in the back seat and b) a blanket over the front seat were I am to sit.  I get in, and he says 'sorry about the blanket, I didn't have time to vacuum the dog hair'.  Alrighty then.  We go about 5 blocks to the local coffee bar (with the dog growling at me all the way because I am in her seat) and go inside.  I don't like this man already and am plotting ways to get away.  He stares at the menu on the wall and asks the poor barista about 30 questions about the various drinks and then orders a plain cup of coffee, small.  I ordered my usual,  some kind of sugar free mocha thing, which comes with one of those chocolate sticks.  We sit down and I am straining to be polite but it's hard.  I pick up the chocolate stick and am about to stick it in my mouth when he grabs my hand and the following ensues:

Him:  Do you really need to eat that?

ME:    HUH?

Him:  Well, you clearly have weight issues. 

ME:    WHAAAAAA?

Him:  Well, you have a 'pretty face' but face it, you are fat.  You should show 

        some self control and not eat everything you can get your hands on.

ME:    WHAT THE F*(#*@*$Q(#@$YQ(@*&$(&$#*(&!$(&%(#&$)!@$)%()!*@)Q#&%#&(@%)*#%)*#)*%)*)#*)#*%)*)!%)(&!$)& AND JUST EXACTLY WHO THE H!)(@U#)*@#*&!)@*$)@$*)!@&$)*&!@)$&)!@*# ARE YOU ANYWAY BLEEEEEEEEEEP  BLEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP  !@#!@$#$%@^$@&$%*&$*

Him:  Well done.  That was a very impressive display.  Now everyone knows how well you can swear.  Did that make you feel grown up? 

ME:  Chuck you, Farley.

Him:  Now that you have that out of your system, let's get back to your weight issues.  Tell me what your Mother is like.

ME:  AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH.  (followed by me running away and locking myself in my apartment.)

Of course I can laugh about it now.  We have a few mutual friends...we saw him at a party last year.  I am married and very happy with a man who loves me, warts and all.  He still has his dog.

Damn Badiane, what a creepily unique experience! Even creepier is that you have mutual friends. I'm not sure that there are words that can accurately describe what he is. Glad you finally found a keeper. :smile:

Inside me there is a thin woman screaming to get out, but I can usually keep the Bitch quiet: with CHOCOLATE!!!

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I dumped a guy who insisted that all three meals must come from a drive-thru. He'd grown up on Chicken McNugget happy meals and French toast sticks, and apparently his taste buds never developed beyond that point.

I think it ended when we tried to go to a reasonably-ok Italian place and he actually started whining because there were no chicken fingers to be found. He was 21 at the time.  It took him entirely too long to find something he'd even consider eating, and he was cranky the rest of the night.

Oh good lord--- I guess the poor thing forgot his ba-ba?

"Fat is money." (Per a cracklings maker shown on Dirty Jobs.)
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OMG, Badiane. :shock: What the heck? Who does he think he is? What a boorish, obnoxious little piece of sh-t. That ranks among the top worst internet dating experiences I've ever heard (and I've had my share).

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I'm glad you found someone, and he still has his dog.

Karen C.

"Oh, suddenly life’s fun, suddenly there’s a reason to get up in the morning – it’s called bacon!" - Sookie St. James

Travelogue: Ten days in Tuscany

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Thank goodness for slkinsey, who eats brains and stuff. :biggrin:

Wow, you make him sound like a zombie, or something... which I suppose would be preferable to a couple of first dates I've had. At least I'd know why they were the way they were.

F.Y.I. I do hold slkinsey in the greatest regard. But eating brains was something I just couldn't resist.

edit: agreement in tense, case, and gender

Edited by jsolomon (log)

I always attempt to have the ratio of my intelligence to weight ratio be greater than one. But, I am from the midwest. I am sure you can now understand my life's conundrum.

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Like I said, at least I can laugh about it now.

I am here to tell you tho, that a deeply food oriented woman can in fact find complete bliss with a man who won't eat anything that had more than four legs and was once famous for his five day'er casserole that he would assemble on Sunday night, bake, eat some for dinner and then leave in the oven all week. Just come home from work, flip the oven on, make food hot, dish up, turn off oven and return food to said oven for storage. Yup. Iron constitution, my husband. It will kill him one day.

I do have another internet dating story that is sort of food related - it's almost as bad as the first one, but not quite :smile:

Another blind date...you would think I would learn.

Picks me up in his pickup...wants to take me to his 'favowite westewant'. He had a wierd speech issue of some kind - sort of a Porky Pig thing completely unrelated to any kind of hearing impairment or other disability - this time I was rude and asked (nicely). Soooo...the 'favowite westewant' turned out to be 'Wed Wobstew' somewhere in the states that is at least an hour drive from here and required a cross border experience. All the way there he regaled me with tales of woad wage from his job as a twuck dwivew. He also told me all about his ex giwfwend, Wobin. Okay, if I was called Robin, I would not date a guy who talked like that. So, we get to Wed Wobstew. Never been there before or since. I am cringing behind my menu and trying to hide but no such luck. He asks the waitress for an order of Motzawella Sticks to start. Okay. So I am still cringing behind the menu, waiting for inspiration when the waitress drops the fried cheese on the table. I hear the plate slide and the the most unholy snarfling and snuffling and smacking that I have ever heard. I thought he was choking to death so I threw the menu across the room and lept to my feet, all ready to Heimlich him. He looked up at me and the lower half of his face was covered in grease and crumbs and he says

"Oh, you didn't want any, did you? I saved you the mawinawa sauce, it's good on the biscuits"

Okay...now that should be the end of the story...I managed to get him to take me home pretty quick by pretending I was sick. Should be the end of the story...but no. He kept calling me and leaving messages about how fun it was, and how much he liked me and how much he wanted to see if we could have a welationship, because our evening ended before he got to 'touch my soul with his lips'. Yes. That is what he said. Actually he said wips...but you get the idea.

Fast forward three weeks. I went to the movies - by myself - and as I was short cutting past the Xray Clinic up the alley to my apartment I heard some singing - and I could see the neighbors out on their balconies hooting and laughing. Yup. Porky Pig is parked outside my building. Standing in the bed of his pickup. Wearing a suit and holding some roses, and, for some inexplicable reason, a bucket of KFC. Drunk. And singing.

"Yew awe once, twice, fwee times a Wady....and I wuuuuv you...."

Egged on by three old ladies, a bum, a crazy drug dealer and the crack ho that lived upstairs (not the best building to live in).

I snuck around the block, in the back door, up to my apartment and called the cops. They came and arrested him for being drunk and causing a public disturbance. His truck disappeared around 9 the next morning. I never heard from him again.

Don't try to win over the haters. You're not the jackass whisperer."

Scott Stratten

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...I once dated a man who ate ketchup on everything.  Including very expensive steak.  Which, of course, was cooked to at least medium-well.  Buh-bye.

Oh, dear, Megan, we've both dated the SAME MAN! No, on second thought, judging by your age and my predeliction for older dates, I dated that man's FATHER! :laugh: The third date, when he poured ketchup on his ENTIRE meal at the Left Bank, before taking nary a whiff... it was over. Slurping his soda (no water or wine for him!) with a straw, to the bottom, well, that was just an accessory to the crime. Years later, I still remember the ooky feeling I got, watching him and thinking about what he did to his breakfasts, and how could I ever face that first thing in the morning? Or, rather, second?

Of course, my real deal breaker was the man who spent the entire beginning of the meal calling the waiter "Hey" and berating his every move, while simultaneously letting it be known that he is a BIG spender... I let him spend on ordering, and I excused myself and caught a taxi home. I just said "Excuse me, dear.", walked by the waiter on the way out and said "So sorry, sir, I'm afraid you'll be sharing dinner with Mr.X without me." and got into a taxi outside. Mr.X telephoned me that night, and left messages of varying apology, but I never returned the calls, and he faded away. Still, every time I see his name somewhere, I feel so sorry for his wives and acquaintances!

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I once went on a date with a guy who had been a friend for a while. He was a lovely friend, but I just didn't sense a spark, but decided that perhaps I was missing something and whould give him a chance romantically. Although we had been friends for some months, I never had eaten with him, unless you consider ice cream an coffees as eating. The date was going well until we were served our meal, and he proceeds to hum thoughout the entire time he was eating. It was the wierdest thing I had ever encountered! Flashes of other noises he would make in other situations went through my mind, and I knew that I had to end it right there. It was difficult to even be friends with him after that because I kept having strange images of him every time I saw him. Talk about buzzkill.

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Oh my god, Badiane. You should write a book!

Rebecca, I'm sure we HAVE dated the same man, or at least a father and son pair. This guy definitely inherited the ketchup habit from his parents...

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

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Like I said, at least I can laugh about it now.....................

I do have another internet dating story that is sort of food related - it's almost as bad as the first one, but not quite  :smile:

Another blind date...you would think I would learn. 

Picks me up in his pickup...wants to take me to his 'favowite westewant'.  He had a wierd speech issue of some kind - sort of a Porky Pig thing completely unrelated to any kind of hearing impairment or other disability ..........

......... Should be the end of the story...but no.  He kept calling me and leaving messages about how fun it was, and how much he liked me and how much he wanted to see if we could have a welationship, because our evening ended before he got to 'touch my soul with his lips'.  Yes.  That is what he said.  Actually he said wips...but you get the idea.

Fast forward three weeks.  I went to the movies - by myself - and as I was short cutting past the Xray Clinic up the alley to my apartment I heard some singing - and I could see the neighbors out on their balconies hooting and laughing.  Yup.  Porky Pig is parked outside my building.  Standing in the bed of his pickup.  Wearing a suit and holding some roses, and, for some inexplicable reason, a bucket of KFC.  Drunk.  And singing.

"Yew awe once, twice, fwee times a Wady....and I wuuuuv  you...."

Okay honey, I have to ask: were you wearing some kind of weird pheromone based cologne back then, perhaps one called "Eau de Freak-a-zoid?" :blink:

Inside me there is a thin woman screaming to get out, but I can usually keep the Bitch quiet: with CHOCOLATE!!!

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Like I said, at least I can laugh about it now. 

I am here to tell you tho, that a deeply food oriented woman can in fact find complete bliss with a man who won't eat anything that had more than four legs and was once famous for his five day'er casserole that he would assemble on Sunday night, bake, eat some for dinner and then leave in the oven all week.  Just come home from work, flip the oven on, make food hot, dish up, turn off oven and return food to said oven for storage.  Yup.  Iron constitution, my husband.  It will kill him one day.

I do have another internet dating story that is sort of food related - it's almost as bad as the first one, but not quite  :smile:

Another blind date...you would think I would learn. 

Picks me up in his pickup...wants to take me to his 'favowite westewant'.  He had a wierd speech issue of some kind - sort of a Porky Pig thing completely unrelated to any kind of hearing impairment or other disability - this time I was rude and asked (nicely).  Soooo...the 'favowite westewant' turned out to be 'Wed Wobstew' somewhere in the states that is at least an hour drive from here and required a cross border experience.  All the way there he regaled me with tales of woad wage from his job as a twuck dwivew.  He also told me all about his ex giwfwend, Wobin.  Okay, if I was called Robin, I would not date a guy who talked like that.  So,  we get to Wed Wobstew.  Never been there before or since.  I am cringing behind my menu and trying to hide but no such luck.  He asks the waitress for an order of Motzawella Sticks to start.  Okay.  So I am still cringing behind the menu, waiting for inspiration when the waitress drops the fried cheese on the table.  I hear the plate slide and the the most unholy snarfling and snuffling and smacking that I have ever heard.  I thought he was choking to death so I threw the menu across the room and lept to my feet, all ready to Heimlich him.  He looked up at me and the lower half of his face was covered in grease and crumbs and he says

"Oh, you didn't want any, did you?  I saved you the mawinawa sauce, it's good on the biscuits"

Okay...now that should be the end of the story...I managed to get him to take me home pretty quick by pretending I was sick.  Should be the end of the story...but no.  He kept calling me and leaving messages about how fun it was, and how much he liked me and how much he wanted to see if we could have a welationship, because our evening ended before he got to 'touch my soul with his lips'.  Yes.  That is what he said.  Actually he said wips...but you get the idea.

Fast forward three weeks.  I went to the movies - by myself - and as I was short cutting past the Xray Clinic up the alley to my apartment I heard some singing - and I could see the neighbors out on their balconies hooting and laughing.  Yup.  Porky Pig is parked outside my building.  Standing in the bed of his pickup.  Wearing a suit and holding some roses, and, for some inexplicable reason, a bucket of KFC.  Drunk.  And singing.

"Yew awe once, twice, fwee times a Wady....and I wuuuuv  you...."

Egged on by three old ladies, a bum, a crazy drug dealer and the crack ho that lived upstairs (not the best building to live in).

I snuck around the block, in the back door, up to my apartment and called the cops.  They came and arrested him for being drunk and causing a public disturbance.  His truck disappeared around 9 the next morning.  I never heard from him again.

This story is great! What a great laugh (sorry at your expense :wink: )

Who was this guy, Babba Wawa's brother??? :laugh:

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