For our third date, Trader Joe offered lunch and a movie and I accepted, thinking either (a) the previous date was a fluke, and he's actually a really mature guy who isn't at all desperate or clingy and we could have a great time and keep dating, or
(b) I could get a free lunch and movie, and would only have to talk to him for half of the afternoon.
So, we met at the train station and started walking towards a French restaurant I had suggested. As we were walking, he retold the same stories he had told me on the previous two dates...
Actually, let's discuss that for a minute. If someone is retelling stories on the third date, they either lead an incredibly boring life, or have an atrocious memory. Or both, and are pathological liars who cannot remember that they already invented that story to cover up for their otherwise boring life. I don't know which affliction Trader Joe was suffering from, but it was bad.
And perhaps contagious. I suggest staying away from all men showing signs of this disease.
Anyway, I zoned out until we reached Times Square, when he started gawking like a tourist (remember...born and raised in New York) and exclaimed:
"I know! Let's see a show!"
Ok...I thought. I would generally rather see a Broadway show than a movie, and I still don't have to talk to him. Sweet! This may turn out well after all!
"Sounds great! Let's go to the TKTS booth!" (where they sell discounted same-day tickets)
We went to the booth, and after talking with some of the volunteers, we decided to see High, starring Kathleen Turner. As you know from reading the link (or being one of the approximately 10 people who managed to catch the show before it closed), High is an intense drama discussing rape, drugs, prostitution, religion...name a controversial topic, it was in this show. There is also a scene featuring extended full-frontal nudity.
I was intrigued. Joe was giggling like a school girl at the prospect of seeing someone naked.
And (supposedly) he's the one who's not a virgin in this conversation...
So, we get the tickets. Ok, I get the tickets, because he had a heart attack with his eyes when the guy told him the price (which was 50% of the actual price, by the way). So he suggested that he pay for lunch. But not at the (delicious) French place I had suggested.
At the burger joint down the block. Because it was "closer to the theatre".
By one avenue block.
So, we see the show, which was very powerful and very well-acted and contained a very large naked male penis.
By the way, I have now seen four Broadway shows with male nudity, and all four men were extremely well-endowed. I would really like to know how they cast these roles...
Wait...what was I doing? Oh, blogging. Right...
Remember when I said the show discussed things like rape and drug use? Romantic, sexy topics, right?
Joe seemed to think so, because he put his hand on my thigh at EVERY dramatic pause. And when do dramatic pauses happen? After something dramatic.
A character revealing that he was raped at the age of 14 by his mother's john.
Joe's hand goes to my thigh.
A character revealing that her younger sister was murdered by a man she invited into the house while high. Joe's hand goes to my thigh.
After the fourth time, when I was certain it could not possibly be a coincidence (unless he was too stupid to be following the plot of the show, which may actually be worse), I moved as far away as I could while still staying in my seat and tried to enjoy the rest of the show.
Afterwards, as we were walking back to the train station, I asked how he liked he show.
"Well...that guy...he was naked. Really naked. Wow."
Which he repeated like a mantra until I dropped the 28-year-old man-child off at his train.
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