The Imitator

I met Ethan on Match.com. We spoke briefly twice before deciding to meet up for dinner. He was okay looking in his profile photos. He certainly was good looking enough when weighed against his information. Only three years younger than me.
Never married.
No children.
Lives alone.
Sales rep for publishing company.
Worked at his company for 13 years.
Has a car.
Comes into the city from Westchester several times a month.

He called when he said he would.
He balanced texting with actual phone conversations.
Called the day of our date to make sure everything was still going along as planned.
He was 10 minutes early getting to the restaurant.
He wore a nice short sleeved, navy blue and beige, collared shirt.
Dark blue jeans.
Comfy looking brown Merrill's.

I was impressed with the place he chose.
Nice Italian restaurant. Not too fancy but certainly not shabby.

Wow... maybe things were looking up for me... right?
WRONG!!!!!!

Okay, lets start with him making a comment about "gay men". I quickly said that I have gay friends, figuring I should just put that out there so that he wouldn't go any further with anything derogatory, if that was his intention. I still don't know what the gist of his "gay man" story was because he turned the next half hour, at least, into an "infomercial" on EVERY gay person (mostly male) he knew. In case that wasn't enough, he told me about EVERY gay person his friends and family knew. I think he was trying to prove he wasn't homophobic. His point was not made.
Just in case all of that wasn't clear enough for me, he then started to imitate many of them, I guess to show me the degree of "gay" they were. Some spoke like macho men. Some spoke very feminine. Many, for some reason, had a lisp. Apparently, a sure sign of a really gay man is whether he lisps or not.
I kept looking around just hoping that no one near us was gay. I mean, it was embarrassing enough for anyone to be listening, thinking I was into this conversation but having a gay person listening just made me feel like shit.
You're probably wondering why I didn't do something... well, I did. I tried several times to change the subject. Each time he was quiet but I'm not sure he was really listening because the moment I stopped talking he would say, "Oh, umm and then..." and would continue with more gay impressions.
When I finally got him to change the subject, which honestly I think had more to do with him running out of gay stories than me finding another topic, he started talking about his favorite TV shows.
You would think me being a television junkie, this would be a great thing to talk about... WRONG again!
He watches reality TV. Now, I can't stand reality shows but there is still some respect for people who watch, say... cooking competition shows or Project Runway. No, Ethan watches Jersey Shore, Celebrity Rehab and whatever shows feature Twisted Sister and Gene Simmons.
Even when I said I didn't really watch reality shows he tried to convince me to give it a try. He explained that he watched them KNOWING how horrible they were. This is when he started to do his imitations again. This time of Snookie, the Situation and Angelina. Let's not forget the drunken, sad, mess that Jeff Conaway (Grease's Kenickie) turned out to be.
By the way, for some reason they all sounded very much like lisping gay men.
Again, I tried to change the subject... which somehow only led to sports. Another taboo topic for me. I'm well aware that more so than not, people like sports of some kind. I know enough to keep a conversation going and so that's what I did. I told him what sporting events I've been to. Basketball, Baseball, College football... MISTAKE!
He took over by telling me specific games... like, Knicks and every team he's seen them play against, he did the same for the Nets, the Rangers, the Giants, the Jets, Mets, Yankees... you get the point.
Of course, he then had to tell me all of the ballparks and arena's he's been to.
Not just Tri-state area ones either.
Nooo... we're talking Fenway, Wrigley Field, Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.
ARGH!
I NOTICEABLY kept looking at my watch... he didn't get the hint AT ALL.
I couldn't believe I wore such a hot dress for this date. Such a waste.
I took extra care with my makeup AND my hair. I smelled yummy too.

Finally! The check came.
He paid for the whole thing... didn't hold back on a tip either. Nice... Okay, maybe I was being too hard on the guy. Maybe he was just nervous. After all, he's not the only person who watches really bad TV and I admit, I'm out of the loop with sports.
So, when he asks if I want to go get a drink and talk for a bit, I say yes.
WHY? WHY? WHY did I do that?
We ended up in a bar with a very drunk Firefighter named Jim who was mourning 9/11. There was a woman there with a Pug who had his own bar stool, a short guy with a really bad fake tan, the guys albino girlfriend, a waitress who kept spraying Windex on everything and wiping them down and a bartender from Dublin, named Glen, who noticeably wasn't wearing any underwear.
Yes, people... you can't make this stuff up.
Fireman Jim sang very loudly and very much off key to every song that came on and when Glen put on Danke Schoen, there was no stopping the chorus of voices. Danke Schoen is apparently a favorite at this place. I was in awe of everything going on but Ethan??? He just kept talking like nothing.
We were past him telling me every detail about a movie called FATSO with Dom Deluise, especially the "funny parts", which was the whole movie in his opinion. I'm sure it is very funny, I like Dom Deluise but Ethan wasn't convincing me of that.
After his movie review, he started talking about music. I didn't add much because I was afraid maybe he would start singing too. With a lisp maybe!
Anyway, he was telling me about all the famous people he's met, from athletes, to comedians, to musicians. He mentioned Kiss, so I added that I met Paul Stanley, twice. This was in the 80's when he was still gorgeous. I was so excited back then because the second time we met he remembered me.
Good story, right?
Uh, Oh... Ethan ran with this too.
He started imitating Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley. Paul Stanley had a lisp. I told him I didn't remember him speaking that way and so, he then started to imitate Paul Stanley meeting me... both times!
I don't know... maybe he thought it would trigger a memory. It didn't!

I couldn't take it! The boring conversation, the terrible singing, the butt crack... I just wanted to get out of there. I said, "I'm sorry, I really need to get up early. I have to get going."
He quickly got up, paid and we left.
He insisted on driving me home. I kept repeating that I lived in THE ghetto, not minding at all if I paid for a cab all the way back uptown but he was turning it all into yet another LONG conversation, so again... I said yes. We then proceeded to go to three, YEP, three different car garages because he didn't remember where he parked. This, even after he read the address...
At this point I'm really starting to wonder, am I being punked? This has got to be a Frackin' joke!
Okay... we get to the car. He drives me to Harlem. We stop at a red light and he makes sure his door is locked. I laugh and said I'd warned him earlier, he did not have to drive me home.
We get to the front of the building NEXT DOOR to my building, he turns off the car, turns towards me and licks his lips... Nooooooooooo, I can't do this. Not even a quickie. Nope, can't do it. So, I lunge forward, kiss the air by his cheek and say, "Okay, thank you. Get home safe."
I saw the look of disappointment on his face but I just wanted to get home.
I was DONE!
In the infamous words of Roberto Duran, "No Mas."