You, Me and MSG

Some women say that they can tell a lot about a man by his taste in music. Others, in his choice of shoes or ties. For a select few it’s the car he drives, the cologne he wears or the way his bathroom is decorated. “Wow, look at his beautiful array of monogrammed hand towels… he must get along great with his mother AND be good in bed!” However, being myself, a nice Jewish girl from an overly Jewish set of parents, I can tell if I like a man by the way he eats. Likes sushi? Adventurous! Into the fatty, greasy bacon cheeseburgers? Manly man, bonus points. Coffee lover? Sensitive, maybe TOO sensitive but we’ll give it a try. I steer clear of any consumption of veggie burgers, turkey burgers and main course salads. Don’t get me wrong, I love salad, I absolutely do. But please, just have a small version (with full-fat dressing, please!) before your big, manly fat-burger, THANKS!

So, I’m sure you’re not surprised when I decided to meet Mr. Match.com at a local Italian restaurant. I didn’t know all too much about him, but I figured a few glasses of wine would help the flow of conversation. Wait, I should rewind and tell you what I knew about him pre-dinner. He’s 26, a Jew, allergic to MSG (and I don’t mean the nosebleed seats at the garden!) and is way too into cars. He has four. Why would you own four cars? Okay, maybe if you’re Little Bow Wow and Cribs is coming over to tape you, your car for each season that you can’t even drive yet and your Coors Light-filled fridge that you’re not even old enough to drink yet! Apparently, one of his cars is old and purple. Two are pick-ups (Are u SURE you’re Jewish?) and the last is a sexy red Beamer. Interesting selection. Prior to meeting him, he sent me photos of his cars, not himself. That should have been a warning in itself, but who am I to judge?

Dinner is at 9:30. I am fuckin’ staaaaaarving and in need of a drink. Oh and of course, just as I expected… he’s a lot cuter in his photos. Well, maybe not the Beamer! That looked pretty great in person. About 3 minutes into the date, I knew I was doomed. “Would you like something to drink, Miss?” “Do you have a wine list?” “No, it’s actually BYOB.” SHIT! Damn you, restaurant review website for not warning me! Diet Coke it is.

He’s nervous, I can tell. You know how I can tell? He tells me. It’s about 95 degrees outside and he’s just a tad too sweaty looking for my liking. THEN the kicker. “I’m not even that hungry, it’s just TOO hot out!” Okay, then why are we here? Again, I’m fucking starving and my fat-free dressing-laced salad I had at 2 o’ clock just ain’t doing the trick. I dive head first into the breadbasket, while he sits there looking nervous, sweaty and talking about cars. His cars, the cars he works with and oh why is there a large, scary dent in the side of MY car? Oh, apparently it can be fixed if I would like ‘his car people’ to look at it. Sure thing, buddy. Sounds like it would require another date, maybe even 2… EEK!

The specials sound really good and I’m totally thinking I might go for the shrimp ravioli, or maybe the scallops. Oh, you don’t like seafood? Not even shrimp? Ah Ha! Definitely NOT sushi. He’s getting some hybrid chicken/sausage combo that he can’t pronounce. He doesn’t even try to pronounce it actually. He just points his finger to it on the menu, and tells the waiter “The Chicken… Ssss…Sca….Scarrp” Oh, no. C’mon, give it a try. Sound it out, I promise it’s not too hard! I give him a few bonus points for the manly-esque meats, but I quickly take them back for the lack of effort.

I’m not digging this guy, but at least there are no awkward silences. Thank god. Usually no alcohol on a first date is a complete death sentence but we’re actually not doing too badly. You know why? He always goes on sober dates, because he doesn’t like to drink! “I don’t like the way it makes me feel.” HAHAHAH, excuse me? HELP!

The plates arrive and I’m glad because now we can talk less… about cars. I ask him about his MSG allergy and discovered it gives him hives and swollen lips. Hmmm… that could be hot. Perhaps I should’ve suggested Hunan Wok. Now this next part is just unbelievable. I want you to know I’m laughing right now, because I had to hold it in all through dinner and it was just too monumental. His chicken was sitting in an especially oily, greasy mess and GUESS WHAT? “For some reason, greasy food makes my nose itch.” He warned me… you know, in case I was wondering why he was incessantly scratching his nostrils throughout the entire meal! At one point in the date, he asked me if he had something in his nose. Shit, I must have been staring, but that’s all he could do. Chew his chicken and scratch, scratch, scratch!

He redeemed himself by ordering us peanut butter gelato and telling a few entertaining stories that finally didn’t revolve around cars or food allergies. I feel bad, he’s a nice guy, sure… but I just didn’t realize someone could be so strange, or at least let it show in the span of one and a half hours!

We parted ways with a polite hug and an “I’ll talk to you soon”, but not until he got an up close and personal look at the dent in my car. Thanks for the advice buddy, and sorry about your nose.

NEXT?