Coffee Date of Fail
So while I'm playing catch up with anyone who cares what happened to me in the past year or so and hasn't been following me on Facebook or Twitter, I'll eventually get there. Which means (a) what gigs I've landed and (b) the scorecard of guys I've hooked up with.
Yesterday evening before my gig, I went on what I term the Coffee Date Of Fail. It's not because he was two months shy of 21. No, the reasons went like this:
1) When talking about house music, his response is, "Like Tiesto?" First off, anyone who comes up with Tiesto as the first name when I mention house music has already lowered themselves by 20 points. Then he insists that Deadmau5 and Tiesto spin the same type of house music. My head is going seriously owwy.
2) When he asks what bar I spin at, I tell him it's the gay club up the street. His response: "Really? There's clubs up there?" To explain why I went ::headdesk:: I shall give a quick overview of West Palm Beach's main drag of Clematis Street. On the 200 and 300 blocks, there are several bars and restaurants aiming toward the mainstream crowd. Next is the 400 block, which doesn't have any night places, just the library and a couple of daytime businesses. After crossing the railroad tracks, you're on the 500 block. On the 500 block, the core businesses are a goth/indie club, a small gay bar, and an Irish pub. There are also two all-night places to eat, one serving pizza, the other a diner specializing in hot dogs.
None of this registers with the boy. His response: "Oh really? I think I'd prefer to stay on the 200 block then." Yeah, why don't you? You'd probably last all of 10 minutes on the 500 block anyway. Which leads me to:
3) He asks the difference between a gay bar and a straight bar. That desk is getting a big dent from my head by now.
4) I have to explain roller derby to him. Admittedly, this is not easy. I'll even give him a pass on thinking there's a ball involved (that happens a lot). But seriously, asking me to draw him a diagram? It's not that hard to figure out, dude.
5) He asks what color my nails are. I tell him they're purple, because they are. He says, "No, they're black." When I insist they're purple, he says, "We'll just agree to disagree." Uh, that my nails are purple is a fact, not an opinion.
There's more details I'm sure I've thankfully forgotten by now. How I didn't walk out on him, I have no clue. All that treat-people-as-you-want-to-be-treated ingrained in me. I've got to learn to stop doing that. Finally, around 8:30, I tell him I have to leave to set up for my gig. He'll text me later to tell me to have fun on my gig, I text him back to thank him. That's pretty much that.
At least I got a free Lite Mocha Frappucino out of it.
Yesterday evening before my gig, I went on what I term the Coffee Date Of Fail. It's not because he was two months shy of 21. No, the reasons went like this:
1) When talking about house music, his response is, "Like Tiesto?" First off, anyone who comes up with Tiesto as the first name when I mention house music has already lowered themselves by 20 points. Then he insists that Deadmau5 and Tiesto spin the same type of house music. My head is going seriously owwy.
2) When he asks what bar I spin at, I tell him it's the gay club up the street. His response: "Really? There's clubs up there?" To explain why I went ::headdesk:: I shall give a quick overview of West Palm Beach's main drag of Clematis Street. On the 200 and 300 blocks, there are several bars and restaurants aiming toward the mainstream crowd. Next is the 400 block, which doesn't have any night places, just the library and a couple of daytime businesses. After crossing the railroad tracks, you're on the 500 block. On the 500 block, the core businesses are a goth/indie club, a small gay bar, and an Irish pub. There are also two all-night places to eat, one serving pizza, the other a diner specializing in hot dogs.
None of this registers with the boy. His response: "Oh really? I think I'd prefer to stay on the 200 block then." Yeah, why don't you? You'd probably last all of 10 minutes on the 500 block anyway. Which leads me to:
3) He asks the difference between a gay bar and a straight bar. That desk is getting a big dent from my head by now.
4) I have to explain roller derby to him. Admittedly, this is not easy. I'll even give him a pass on thinking there's a ball involved (that happens a lot). But seriously, asking me to draw him a diagram? It's not that hard to figure out, dude.
5) He asks what color my nails are. I tell him they're purple, because they are. He says, "No, they're black." When I insist they're purple, he says, "We'll just agree to disagree." Uh, that my nails are purple is a fact, not an opinion.
There's more details I'm sure I've thankfully forgotten by now. How I didn't walk out on him, I have no clue. All that treat-people-as-you-want-to-be-treated ingrained in me. I've got to learn to stop doing that. Finally, around 8:30, I tell him I have to leave to set up for my gig. He'll text me later to tell me to have fun on my gig, I text him back to thank him. That's pretty much that.
At least I got a free Lite Mocha Frappucino out of it.