Public Service Announcement

I am normally quite good-natured, but when it comes to a certain kind of patronizing male, it sets me off. The kind of male who thinks you might not come equipped with as nice a brain as a man, so he makes blatant seduction "moves" and presumes you don't 'get' it. Whose casual conversation betrays a misogynistic streak a mile wide, but believes it's well hidden and well-justified. Who is either obviously auditioning me for the role of the "barefoot and pregnant wife" or "notch in my bedpost" because, in his world, there are no other roles for women to play.

NOTE: Details have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. Except the street evangelist part. That was too good to fuck with.

On a first date, I don't mind if you try to impress me with brilliant analysis from your area of professional expertise. I do mind if you try to impress me with analysis from my area of professional expertise. Particularly when you don't have a clue what you're talking about, you don't know when to give it the hell up, and the word "condescending" doesn't begin to describe your attitude.

On a first date, I don't mind if you bring up the topic of your child/ren. I do mind if you continually refer to the child as nothing more than "the girl" and go into graphic detail about how you left "the girl" behind with "the bitch" in another state and only see her about every six months to a year, if that. Nice parenting instincts, dude.

On a first date, I don't mind if you tell me all about yourself. I do mind if you never once ask a single thing about me beyond my opinion of you.

On a first date, I don't mind if, when you see some ethnic cuisine on the menu, you take the chance to brag a little about having visited that country. I do mind if you use it as a springboard to bitch about how it "ruined you" forever from having that type of food in the US, because every single restaurant in America has somehow managed to get that food totally wrong and no one who knows better would ever eat that crap. Oh, and it's worse if you already know that I had also lived in that country for an extended period of time, yet seem to be enjoying my meal. If you're right, you've just insulted my palate, no?

On a first date, finances should really not come onto the table, other than a polite argument about spliting the check or generic information. If you're out of work and living with your parents/best friend/kid, do you really want me to know about it right off the bat? If you're wealthy, bragging about it makes you look like an asshole.

On a first date, I don't mind if you discuss your break up with your ex. It's dangerous territory, but if you intend to put on a show, I'll sit back and watch. I appreciate the information on such random topics as cleaning standards, your sexual habits, hiding assets from lawyers. I'm sure you'll appreciate that when I find out you broke up with your last girlfriend because she left dirty dishes in the dishwasher, that you cheated on your ex, that you really would like to find someone to visit a sex club with you, that you think stalking is an appropriate wooing method, or that you feel the right to dictate all expenditures down to how many tubes of lipstick you think your significant other can own, well . . . I'm going to allow you to pick up the tab for dinner. Then I'm going to ensure you never, ever bother me again.

How?

That's the fun part.

I'll listen to all your misogynistic bitching just long enough to determine the kind of female that really ticks you off. Then I'll become her. I'll start low-key, and turn the volume up as the evening wears thin. It's an elegant little game: you don't get hurt, and I get a good story for my girlfriends.

Here's one from a few months back: I had just about every item listed above occur on a single date. When he was in the restroom, I left the building. I needed air. I was tempted to just keep walking, but didn't.

In figuring out how to get rid of the guy, I'd already tried the 'slightly shrill, antagonistic chick' approach, the exact opposite of the quiet little homemaker he hoped I'd be. Nada.

I thought about trying the smoking angle, bumming a cigarette off a nice lady in the street. But then I remembered I'd seen him smoking on a previous occasion. Damn.

Then, just as he was on his way out of the building, I was approached by two street evangelists wanting to talk about Jesus. It was too good to pass up. I sat down started a conversation. When he came out of the restaurant, I made him listen to them. For 45 minutes. Hey, I thought it would do him some good. He seems to have lost my phone number . . .



DISCLAIMER: Please not that I am not talking about most guys. Not even half of them. This is the small segment of the male population in serious need of remedial help. You know who you are. I'm just doing my part.