Rescue Me

I guess the one request / requirement / piece of advice I forgot to mention throughout my many diatribes lately is one that I didn't even thought bore repeating: don't be rude.

This past weekend, I was absolutely blown away by the rudeness of a man I went on a date with -- and I'm still so stunned speechless by it that I don't even know how to detail it out, other than to say, he won't be getting so much as a returned text message from me ever again, and it's pretty easy to lose complete interest in somebody when they act like such a jackass. His number / email address were deleted from my crackberry before the door hit me in the ass on the way out.

Let me repeat in case you missed it the first time: Don't be rude.

And I don't buy any argument that you didn't know it was rude. Unless you are feral or were raised by wolves, you know the difference between good and bad manners, common courtesy and jackhole behavior. Because you've at least FAKED IT well enough to get to the point of an in-person meeting (and actually, this was a SECOND date).

We do have feelings, you know.

And no matter how confident, charming, ballsy, funny, and strong we may appear, underneath it all, we're just girls. Girls who like a boy and are hoping he likes us back. When you cut me, I still bleed. It still smarts when the cute boy doesn't like me, and even though the next day I might crack up about it with my girlfriends, and write funny/scathing emails to my co-workers, in that moment -- sitting at the bar, with my tail tucked between my legs, it hurts. In 24 hours, it won't be a big deal, but in the moment? Ouch.

Don't be rude.

Luckily, my evening had a happy ending, the kind that can only come from being rescued by a friend, somewhat of a knight in shining armour... one that has clearly been reading up and taking notes. The stench of Bad Date was quickly washed away.

Sugar and spice,

~Jess