A Rant On Going Out

I've just spent two consecutive nights out on bad dates. Here's some pointers for the clueless, not that they read this anyway. Don't make going out all about YOUR preferences. If I want some damn chicken wings, don't look at me as if I need to move into a trailer park. Even if I do want Ranch with them. And don't nix all my restaurant choices just because you think YOU want vegetarian tonight. I might want a piece of meat. It'd be nice if you'd at least ask. Same goes for movies. Don't put the death wish on all the movies just because your fine-tuned sense of aesthetics is not pleased. I can name half a dozen movies I've had to matinee by myself because you won't go. Don't control the radio 100% of the time. Especially if it's Sad Bastard Rock. I hate Sad Bastard Rock. I realize that Metallica's new Whiskey song isn't your thing all the time either, so I'm judicious about it. Give me the same courtesy.

And if I look nice, dammit, tell me so. I used to work in restaurants, and they seat you in the window seat for a reason. That reason is because you're good looking. They don't want ugly people slobbering food at the people on the street. They want good looking people with manners sitting there. With enough manners not to be upset in public, that's for sure. I smelled good and I looked good. Quit talking about your stupid academic work and notice that.

When you buy me beer, don't keep looking at your watch. Where else do you have to be? Nowhere? OK, then quit looking at it. Let me enjoy it, instead of down it like we were undergrads again. There wasn't that much left of it anyway.

Jesus Herbert Christ. I'm going out with the girls for the next few times.

--Virgil