it's the stoli talking

It's no WDE like Caddy's, but it's up there.

We meet at Robin des Bois and he seems nice-looking enough -- was still wearing suit and tie from work (he's a civil attorney in midtown; former criminal prosecutor). I get wine, he gets a martini.

Large martini #1.

We chat about work, our families, and the other usual topics of first date conversation. He seems animated and confident at first, but as time goes on, he begins coming across as a wee bit arrogant. He seems to boast quite a bit about his accomplishments and his once-charming sarcasm was now, by large martini #2, turning annoying and off-putting.

I had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn't even that interested in me at this point but was just going through the motions, drinking his large martinis, hoping to get laid.

Despite acting like I really was lucky to be out with him, he begins constantly touching my leg from under the table, causing me to have to shift left and right to avoid him. After large martini #3 (I'm only on my second small glass of wine, by the way), he suggests we get one more drink at Zombie Hut. I honestly want to go home, but figure one more drink wouldn't kill me, especially because he's paying. We both get beer. Brooklyn Lager.

At some point in front of the fireplace, he begins relaying a story about a frat brother of his (yes, frat brother) and unabashedly remarks, "Man, that fag!" to which I respond, "Um, what? Fag?"

Oh, he loves this. He can tell that I'm slightly offended by his language. He goes off on a 10-minute diatribe about how all straight men call each other fags when women and gay men aren't around. I tell him I disagree. He says I'm fooling myself. He argues that we, as a culture, are getting far too sensitive about language and because he has no malicious intent behind the word, it's harmless. He also states that his mother is a lesbian who has been with her partner for 17 years and that he has had two gay roommates, both of whom are friends of his, so this proves he cannot be homophobic.

I don't really give a shit at his point if he's homophobic or not, and I'm all for free speech, but I do think it was poor judgement to be so loose-lipped on a first date. I suggest that we leave the bar, as it's now 12:45 in the morning. He demands that I take a cab home and I say that no, I'm fine with the train, which is a block away. He demands that "at this hour" I take a cab and that he'll pay. Um, okay. So, we get into a cab, the cab driver drops him off at his place, he leans in for a brief kiss, and then tells the cab driver to take me home. He stuffs $40 in my hand and I give him back a twenty.

The door closes and I tell the cab driver to drive me back to the train and I pocket the rest of the cash. When I get home, there is a text from him:

"Despite what you may think, I'm interested in you."

Update:

Emailed me this morning:

It was a pleasure meeting you last night. You seem like a really nice girl with a lot going for her. I'm sure you're going to do great out there in the singles market.

However, due to a number of reasons, I don't think it would be productive for us to see each other again.

Seriously, though, you seem all right. ;-) We should do it again. I'm trying to weasel out of my Saturday plans right now. If I'm successful, why don't I cook you dinner that night?