The Stylist

Submitted by G.R.
I’m a believer in the power of groups, and I think the MIXTT concept is a sound one because almost all of my dating successes have stemmed from getting different groups of friends together in a casual setting where we can connect without pressure. But let it be said that the groups should not be stacked all on one side!

I was fresh off the worst disappointment ever and not really looking for a new entanglement.  I had just arrived at my friend’s birthday party, when his folks pulled me aside to announce they’d set me up. The dad was like “Have I got the girl for you!”. Stepmom added “She’s my stylist; she’s such a doll…(pause)…she’s kind of heavy, but she’s so naturally pretty – and she’s really been losing weight lately!” Oh boy. I thanked them for their efforts and got myself a martini to brace for the inevitable.

Soon after, I got pulled over to meet my alleged dream girl.  They weren’t kidding about the “kind of heavy” part. I like curves, don’t get me wrong – Kate Moss is not my ideal of femininity. But we were talking “starting offensive lineman for the Cowboys”, plus she was wearing her weight in makeup. Still, I faked all the charm I could as she started talking my head off. After a few minutes in which I’d barely gotten a word in edgewise, she asks me point blank, “So, do you want to go out on a dinner date with me?” I was dumbfounded. Not only had we had no time to establish any chemistry, but she was surrounded by her whole entourage of Gay Best Friend types. I was like “Uhh…” and the entourage started demanding, “C’mon! Aren’t you gonna say YES?”

I stammered “Sure, OK”. Real smooth.

Then the real talking started. She was going off about the rigors of being a personal stylist, and told me that without her expertise, my friend’s dad, who’s a very sharp-looking guy, would be one big mass of unibrow and nose hair. Then she started carrying on about what a great cook she was and how she’d make me the best steak I’ve ever had. She was clearly thinking about dates 3, 4, move-in, etc. I had to rescue myself.

Then she started asking me what my dream date would be like, since it was obviously about to come true. I reflected and said, “To be honest, I think dates are overrated. If you don’t skip straight to sex, what’s the point?”

Her jaw dropped and she exclaimed “I was told you were such a nice guy! I am SHOCKED!”

“Nah, I’m an unrepentant manwhore.”

“Well, which is it? Are you a nice guy or a manwhore?”

“I’m a little of both.”

“Well, I don’t play that game! I’ve had God in my life since I was 18!”

“Good for you.”

“Well, consider our date off!”

“Whew!” (I said it loud and proud, as the peanut gallery groaned in disappointment).

(The whole exchange was probably longer and more painful in reality, but that’s more or less how it went down).