When a Misinterpretation Gets Downright Insulting

Tonight I had a date that left me feeling really badly.  I kinda knew it wasn't going to go well when he came and picked me up from my building.  

We parked his car, and he had decided that our date would start at the Mondrian Hotel down the street, but he felt it would be better to park near my building and then Uber around.  

However, he kept mis-hearing things that I would say, and repeating them back to me so they sounded much harsher than anything I would say.

For instance, this first happened when on our way over to the Mondrian, I told him that if this went well there were some "hidden bars nearby that I could show him."  He then repeated, " What? there are some titty bars that you will show me!?"

Before he picked me up, I thought we might hit it off because he said that, 

like me, he enjoyed going out early in the evening...

he called it "GDE,"  "Getting Drunk Early:  No hangover!" 

 "In bed by 9pm."  "Alone or not is the question." He said.  

Let's call him the Interpreter.  

Because all night he would re-tell me what I said, but completely mis-understand 

me to the point of making me sound like a hussy.

I guess I would have to say now that our connection stopped at the pre-date chats.  

That is when he told me that he had gone to my blog, and was excited to take me out 

because he wanted to see "what his celebrity name was gonna be!"   

He said he wanted to help me decide.  

I told him that I don't always write a blog about my dates.  

Something must happen to "move me."  

He seemed to feel pretty sure that something was going to happen.  

I didn't dare share any of the really bad experiences, because I didn't want to give him any ideas.

Interpreter is new in town.
He seemed like a good sport, handsome, (really white teeth for what it's worth) and fun.
He got his Grandmother's apartment on the beach when she died, and also has a place in New Jersey.  

Interpreter does medical sales, so he has traveled extensively and lived all over the world, which I found very interesting:  France, San Francisco, New York, etc.

He has been married twice, but no kids.  1st wife took him for everything he had, and then when the 2nd wife divorced him, she took nothing, so now he gives her big monetary gifts occasionally, because he was so grateful for that.

We each started with the same gin drink at the Mondrian. I told him that I wanted to "mirror him." 

I rarely drink gin, and was feeling that I needed to stay relatively "on guard" with this one, so I was also keeping quite hydrated with a lot of water. 

Although Interpreter seemed fun, there was an underlying current of nastiness that kept surfacing every time he would mis-understand what I would say.  

It was never something that made me appear any better.  

He kept telling me then that he felt he needed to have his ears fixed.

We each had 1 drink at the Mondrian, and I only drank 1/2 of the 2nd drink, but also enjoyed most of the popcorn chicken appetizer that he got for us...he said he wasn't really hungry, and at 6pm, 

I was ready for a bite!  

Then I told him that I could take him somewhere else, 

as I wanted to show him around my fun nice neighborhood, and South Beach.

From there, we walked to Bodega.  

Interpreter kept offering to get us a car, but I told him that I enjoy the walk, and tho, 

as he noted, I walk fast, & it is a little far, and thru alleys, 

this is how I am accustomed to getting around here on South Beach.

The picture is of the store-front of Bodega, before you walk through the Men's foe bathroom to the lounge in the back.

At Bodega, Interpreter wanted to change our drink to Tequila.  Though he wanted to drink Mescal, I requested a cleaner tequila, Siete Lingua, that I had gotten there before, and liked.  

We were finishing our 1st glass of tequila, when I excused myself to go to the bathroom.  When I returned, he was talking indepthly to the bartender, which I thought was a little strange.  I had never even seen her before.  I wasn't gone that long, and now he was in the middle of a conversation with her about a specific location in New York, and making recommendations for her.

When the youngish blond bartender with tattoos up and down her arms, and glasses covering her pretty face walked away, Interpreter asked me if I accept "allowances."  

I wasn't even really sure what that meant, but I assured him that I did not, as it started sounding like, he was asking me if I go out for money...like I am a HOOKER!?!

  

I kept asking him, "REALLY....REALLY????  ARE YOU REALLY ASKING ME THAT!?!?"  

Then he said that the bartender had ASKED HIM!!  

I got off the bar stool, and said that I was going to leave.  Interpreter also did, and he agreed that we needed to leave.  Interpreter was acting like he was very shaken up by her question, and just wanted to be sure that I did NOT, in fact, collect allowances.  

I KEPT ASKING HIM AGAIN: "REALLY??? REALLY??? 

ARE YOU REALLY ASKING ME THAT!?!????

WHAT ABOUT ME MAKES YOU THINK I WOULD ACCEPT "ALLOWANCES!?!?  LOOK AT ME!!!"

He asked me not to say anything to her, which I honored, so as not to embarrass him, but later thinking about it, I really should have.

After this, we walked down to one more hidden bar that I had told him about, 

the FOXHOLE, (found by the red-light in an alley), 

but this entirely changed the whole mood of the evening.  

I was no longer having fun.  Here I am: a professional, mother of 4 grown beautiful & smart daughters, college educated, dressed and groomed nicely, and someone like this is just going to come out of the woodwork, and attempt to make me feel cheap!?  

Interpreter ordered me another tequila at the Foxhole, and then asked me if I am a "lightweight."  I asked him why he was asking me this...did I "SEEM like I'd had too much to drink??"  ( I felt fine, but now that I think about it, he didn't eat anything and maybe that is why he was getting drunk quicker), because he answered me and said "No, but I am a lightweight."

Then, as we started laughing (trying to get past what had happened), and telling the young female bartender the story of what happened at Bodega, the story started getting longer...

Now Interpreter said that the reason he started talking to the bartender is because she came up and told him that I was pretty, and then asked what my "allowance" is, which he said is what they call gifts that women get for going out with men.  (I had no idea...I guess it also can be money!)  

Then he changed the subject to New York, because he said he was very 

uncomfortable that she would ask him this.

Interpreter then pointed out that NOW I have something to blog about.

So, there you have it... this Interpreter was so politically incorrect that I will never know truly what happened, because as he pointed out:  now when I go back, if I say anything to this bartender she will deny it...and so will he.

But as soon as I realized that I wasn't having fun anymore.  I thanked him again for the drinks, but that I was going to walk home by myself just as the sun was going down.  

He agreed, and said he wanted to stay.

So, then I came home and went straight to bed at 8:30pm, but then woke up at just 11:30pm, and realized that I needed to write a blog, and now after some sleepy time tea, 

I am ready to go back to sleep!!!!!