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The Unintentional Double Date

Belle |
September 15, 2009 | 6:51 p.m. PDT

Anonymous Columnist
footsies
Footsies.
(Creative Commons licensed - seanmcgrath)
Last month I showed up alone, as I normally do, to a family function.  I told myself to bring a date, even if that date was a random male body, just to avoid the scrutiny of my elder Jewish family members. When my best friend bailed on me at the last minute to study for an exam, I had no time to find a replacement.  
"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" yelled my Aunt A too loudly into my right ear. She proceeded to ask me this question at every family function and always with the attention of no less than half the party.  
"She's gorgeous. She's just too picky, that's why," answered my Uncle A.  
"Maybe she's a lesbian," offered my tipsy grandmother as she spilled wine over the edge of her leaning glass and onto a plush white carpet. She then rubbed her heeled foot over the stain until it looked like the scene of a homicide. 
Showing up at a family function sans a date might not seem like a legitimate source of anxiety, but in my family, it's a sign of inadequacy. When your younger sister ALWAYS brings an Abercrombie and Fitch model as a date and your cousins all have significant others, no matter how boring they are, you begin to develop a bit of a complex about it.  
Out of fear for my well-being, my family routinely attempts to set me up. Being opposed to blind dates, I simply say no. At this particular family function though, I found myself in an especially vulnerable state. The night before, I had dreamt that all my years of casual dating left me locked in an apartment, age 99, alone, with nothing to wear but a closet full of dusty wedding dresses.  
So when my uncle offered to set me up with someone, I couldn't say no. He described him as a nice 29-year-old Jewish boy who drives a BMW, loves racing and has a good job - apparently all I needed to know. A couple minutes before I left the party, he decided to tell me that my future date, who we'll call Speed, was his nephew - by marriage, not blood.  At some level this must still be wrong.  
A week and three phone calls later, Speed and I were sitting at the bar at Barney's Beanery trying to get one of the three bartender's attention. As he whispered his "um"s and "excuse me"s for ten minutes to no avail, I lost any ounce of interest there could have ever been as I pictured how he'd be in bed. "Um... is it ok if I touch you now?" Or maybe he'd be one of those silent guys, who (no matter what fantastic thing you do to them) never make a peep. Throw up!  
I ignored my date, practically stood up on the bar, flashing everyone with my mini skirt and grabbed the attention of the bartender closest to me. I ordered our meals and plenty of vodka. Needless to say I got drunk, so drunk that I sat through an hour conversation about racing before I suggested we go upstairs to play some pool.  
I knew there was no chance with my date, but I was way too sloshed to drive home so I decided a friendly game of pool would sober me up. I racked the balls and waited for Speed to get back from the bar when a truly gorgeous creature approached me and asked if my date was my boyfriend.  
"Oh no," I laughed. He looked like a Ken doll with dirty blonde hair, a perfectly symmetrical face, nice jawline, green eyes and those teeth; I have a thing for nice teeth, and his looked like his orthodontist must have been a god.  
When my date returned, Ken doll, from now on known as Ken, was rubbing up against me, touching my right arm. "I'm Belle's friend Ken from high school," lied Ken to Speed. "We actually haven't seen each other in a long time, do you mind if I join your game?"  
I'm sure Speed minded but he managed a shrug. And there my unintentional double date began. 
As the game progressed, the three of us drank shot after shot of cheap vodka and Ken and I got closer and closer, trying to play off our sexual tension as innocent excitement between old friends. After we finished up the first game, that I won of course, my date started to catch on, or at least realize Ken and I liked each other. I noticed the two of them shooting each other looks of "my penis is bigger than yours" in between points. 
Not that there's a good way to do what's coming next, but Speed yanked my arm and pulled me to a corner of the bar. "What's going on?" he demanded. His eyes were blood shot and a vein pulsed vividly on his forehead. All I could think was, "Holy crap, he's way more attractive when he's angry." Why couldn't he have been this assertive in the beginning? We wouldn't be in this mess!  
I lied to him and said there was nothing going on with Ken and that I'm sorry if I led him on but since we were related, I thought he knew that it really wasn't going to go anywhere and that we were just friends getting to know each other. 
 
"Well how am I supposed to get to know you better when you have guys hanging over you all night?" he screamed at me. I know I was being morally questionable and I probably deserved the confrontation, but he was causing a scene. Since I was planning to show my face in the bar again, I dragged him outside and told Ken to wait for me.  
Once outside I apologized but told him, probably a little too harshly, that there was no way it was ever going to work...ever. He left to his car while I practically ran back to Ken.
He swooped me up into his arms and gave me a hug. "I'm so glad you got rid of your cousin," he joked. I could feel the strength of his arms around me and was immediately turned on.  
The clock struck 2 a.m. and after an hour of making out on a pool table, Ken offered to walk me back to my car. During the elevator ride up to the fourth floor, he pushed me against the closed elevator doors and practically knocked the wind out of me with a kiss. A fantastic, let's get naked now kiss. When the elevator stopped on my floor I got out and told Ken I'd call him.  
His perfectly constructed face turned into a frown. 
 
"I'm not going to lie, but I think you're incredibly attractive and I was hoping you'd go home with me," he said with a smile. A terrible line, but four vodka tonics later, I didn't care.  
As I contemplated the offer in my head, I let myself be shallow. To put it simply, he was hot and I wanted him. And, if I didn't go home with him, then my terrible date with Speed would have really been a waste. Just when I was about to let the better half of my conscience chime in, Ken interjected and asked for a ride home. Great, I was for sure going to sleep with him.  
The 5-minute ride to his apartment was intense. He had his hand on my upper thigh the minute I put on my seat belt. When we got to his apartment I told him I needed to use the restroom and followed him inside. 
To be continued... 
Belle is the alias for our "Adventures of a Serial Dater" column series who walks among the USC Annenberg School of Journalism student body. At this point in time, there are no plans to reveal her real identity. 


 

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