Wow, My Date Sucked!


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Dr. Jekyll and Nurse Ryan
by Thomas A. (26, M, Los Angeles, CA)

"Okay first things first, you must know that I am black. This is pertinent information. This is a long story, so bare with me. There is a pay off.

It was Valentine's Day 2008, and I had just ended a relationship with a great guy. Feeling understandably low, my best friend came into town on a mission to lift my spirits. Well, he had a great suggestion that would do just that -- "Let's go to a gay sex club!" I mean, what better way to get over a wonderful relationship than venturing around a seedy sex club on Valentine's Day? Now, in attempt to defend myself, I have to point out that I am not the kind of "gay" that does these kind of things. I'm actually a serial monogamist, damnit! I have never been to a sex club, nor knew where one existed (I live in Los Angeles so clearly there had to be one somewhere). But, I did not protest and released control to my good-ol' pal. Next thing I know -- boom -- we're in a bona fide, for-real-for-real sex club.

Okay - I could write a whole other story on this expedition in itself, but let's just say my overall experience involved lots of pointing and laughing. I'm pretty bashful, so there were plenty of side-way blushes and giggles between myself and my best friend as we roamed around this place wearing nothing but a bath towel with looks of wide-eyed shock on our faces. Fast forward to some time later, that's where I first see him. "Him" is the guy. He is a nurse and his name is Ryan, so I will call him Nurse Ryan. When I first saw Nurse Ryan, it was like the skies parted and a ray from heaven beamed on this glorious man. He was young (around my age -- a twenty-something), suave, and painfully handsome. And God as my witness (and my best friend), he was nice! We immediately sparked up a conversation (where I learned about his profession as a nurse). We sat on a couch (they have couches in sex clubs? Who knew!) and talked for hours. We talked about our families. We talked about our friends. We talked about life. We talked about everything and nothing. Had I really met a wonderful, sane guy at, of all places, a sex club! I was dubious at first (I mean, why would a person like this be in a place like this), but then I remember that I -- the amazingly, awesome guy that I am -- was in a place like this too, so there! I dismissed it and thought "he's getting over the love blues on Valentine's Day too, so it's OKAY!" (Plus, more in my defense, he said a friend of his dragged him there against his will too! It was match made in gay-sex-club heaven!).

Now, before we continue, you should know that Nurse Ryan is white. Being the equal-opportunity player that I am, I didn't think anything of it. And why would I? He was clearly into me too. Fast forward to the end of the night (it was 5 AM!), I give him my number and he texts me back later that morning! We began a week long spree of texting, emails, and brief phone calls. We Facebook'd each other and let the good times of virtual communication roll. He lived in Orange County so we planned to have a "proper" date the following weekend. He just moved to the area (so he says) so he didn't have a car. No problem. I put on my cutest shirt, some nice jeans, and headed down the 5 Freeway to meet up for dinner and movie.

I must say I was smitten. Every picture of him on Facebook was more adorable than the next. He was genuine, funny, full of personality, and seemed like a great guy! I told my friends about him (left out the whole sex club thing tho; said we met in a "bar" - yikes). Needless to say I was excited for a date with our clothes on in a respectable establishment. Fast forward to me sitting in his driveway, all of this changed the second he got into my car. I don't know who this person was who got into my car, but he was not the charming, genuine, funny, full of personality Nurse Ryan that I spent chatting it up for hours (yes yes, in a sex club). This person looked like he rolled out of bed. His hair was matted with literally (I'm not exaggerating) flakes of dandruff flying all over his shoulders and back of his neck. There were several holes in his jeans and ratty t-shirt, and there was a noticeable stench coming from the passenger seat. Sigh. I don't know what happened? I thought, "Why Lord, why! This cannot be happening!" I'm a nice guy, I'm here, so I go with it. I drive us to a nearby shopping complex and we see a movie. The whole way there he's saying the most awkward things: he's talking about how he's in AA for drug recovery, about how much he hates his roommates, about his ex-boyfriend in Texas who was a pedophile, about his time in the military, about how much he hates President Obama (warning), just random ramblings that make him look more and more aloof, strange, unattractive, and confusing. I didn't know what was going on.

We're walking through the movie theater to our seats and he runs in to this guy he knows. They are chatting and I'm just on the side listening to their conversation (this guy was obviously his AA sponsor, though he never said so). He never acknowledges me in the least during their conversation. Supposed-AA-sponsor leaves, and as soon as we sit down in the theater Nurse Ryan has his hands all over me. Needless to say, I am disgusted. I'm over it. I am confused. I just want this date to end so I can go home. I very politely push his hands away in a oh-no-don't-do-that-I'm-being-coy kind of way. Of course he continues well into the movie, and I'm only able to hold him off by putting the big tub of popcorn between us (thank God we got a large popcorn).

The move ends, he suggest we hang out some more, but I politely say "No. I'm going to head back up North. I'll drop him off and then I'm gonna go home." So, we're walking to my car and his random ramblings continue. The moment I close my car door, his hands are down my pants. I again, trying to be nice, edge him off. I'm driving through the parking garage and his advances get stronger and stronger. He's literally all over me. I snap. I say firmly, "PLEASE do not touch me while I drive!" There's a 5 second awkward pause. He says, "Fine!" in a 5-year-old-like tantrum with his arms crosses and retreats back in his seat. It's silent. Painfully silent. And we have a 20 minute drive back to his place.

Like I said, I was over this before it began. I knew I would never see him again. This was a bust, but we still have this drive back to his place. I try to make small talk. Every question I ask is met with one-word, snappy answers. He's pissed and staring out the window the whole time. Fast forward 20 of the most awkward minutes of my life later, I pull onto his street. The moment he sees his house, his seat belt is off, and he is opening his door to leave. He says angrily, "Have a safe drive back to LA" and slams the door behind him without a glaze back. It was done. Over. Wow.

I sat there in utter bewilderment. "What just happened? Where did I go wrong? Did this really happen? Why Nurse Ryan, why?" Without missing a beat I reach for my phone and call my best friend (the one I was at the sex club with, who was there when I met Nurse Ryan and can attest to his awesomeness). I'm downloading to him all of the evenings events, when as I'm pulling on to the freeway I get text message. It's from Nurse Ryan. It said, and I quote: "I knew dating a black was a bad idea."

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!!!???????!?!?!?!?

HIS HE SERIOUSSSS?!?!?!!

I was so confused. This cain't be happening! OH NO HE DIDN'T! What does this even mean!?!?! WHY!!!!!!!!!!!!

I couldn't delete his number fast enough. Needless to say, the moral of the story is do not go on dates with guys you meet in sex clubs. The charming, handsome, smooth Nurse Ryan that I had come to adore (I was sober we we met I promise) actually turned out to be a racist, grinchy, drug-"recovering", sleazy fool (I put "recovery" in quotes because he told me at the club when we first me that he had shared a bottle of wine with his friend, AND he was drunk or high or something either then or the day of our date, neither would surprise me). I should have known better."