Guess who’s back, back again
Lishi’s back, tell a friend
Guess who’s back, guess who’s back
Guess who’s back, guess who’s back
These past couple months have been a bit crazy. I graduated. Moved across the country. Started a new job. Began house hunting. And worst of all, resumed dating.
Prior to my first date, I was excited. We had texted back and forth. He seemed funny and witty. But then I met him. The first five minutes seemed great and then it began. To make sure everyone understands the progression, I’ll go in order.
But before I get started, let me give a little background to make this story more understandable.
- He’s white. Normally, this wouldn’t be a fact I’d bring up. I’m an equal opportunist when dating and believe that all men can be dumb, regardless of race.
- He knows I’m half black. Once again this will become more clear later on.
- Prior to the date, he asked me to pick the place. I specifically asked if he just wanted to grab drinks or food too. He said “definitely food”.
So let’s jump right in:
The Roast Beef Predicament
After he told me he definitely wanted food, I picked a wine bar that had good food, but not too expensive. The food menu included apps, cheese plates, meat plates, salads and sandwiches. Before the waitress comes:
Dude: “What are you ordering”
Me: “I think I’m going to get the roast beef sandwich.”
Dude: “Oh” [followed by an awkward glace at me]
Me: “Oh am I supposed to order a salad and barely eat it” [laugh thinking he’s joking because who would judge me on ordering a sandwich]
Waitress: “What would you like to order”
Dude: [yes, he ordered first] I’ll have the cheese plate. [then looks at me to order]
My Head: [did this adult man really just order a cheese plate as his meal? That’s it? Nothing else? Damn I really wanted that sandwich]
Me: “I guess I’ll have the meat plate and we’ll share”
I eat. I love eating. Eating is my favorite hobby. I didn’t eat a large lunch or snack because I was under the assumption that we were eating dinner. To find out that I went on a date with someone that (1) judged the fact that I ordered a sandwich and (2) considers a cheese plate a satisfactory MEAL is horrifying. I imagine Aziz Ansari would cry if this happened to him. Aziz is my spirit animal.
What is Politically Correct?
While consuming the majority of the meat and cheese plate (because I was freaking hungry), we seemed to be having a good conversation. Then it went into this:
Dude: “I’m not really politically correct”
Me: “That’s fine, neither is my family.” (Assuming he meant a normal level of incorrectness…)
Dude: “yeah, I don’t use the n- word.”
My Head: [What?? Stop. OMG Did he just say that? Where did we go with this conversation?]
Me: “Well, using the n-word goes past politically incorrect and into the sphere of racism”
Dude: “Yeah, but it’s still politically incorrect”
Me: [awkward pause consisting of me stuffing more bread and cheese into my mouth]
Patriarchy is a Myth
I’m already annoyed with this man, I’m still hungry and he may be a confused racist. But I wasn’t completely over it until we moved onto politics. His choice not mine.
Dude: “Hillary [Clinton] is a cold bitch and everyone thinks so”
My Head: [Alicia, do not correct this man on his use of the word “everyone”. Do not get upset that he seems to be perfectly fine with calling women he doesn’t know bitches. Be calm.]
Me: “I think a lot of people think that about her because she doesn’t portray qualities that people usually associate with women”
My Head: [Good job, Alicia! Well done.]
Dude: That’s just an excuse that women make up.
My Head: [You’re right, white man. I just made up patriarchy at this table. Women haven’t been habitually treated as less than men for thousands of years. We weren’t treated as property and essentially sold to husbands as our fathers paid our dowry. We definitely had all the rights of men. We don’t have to worry about the 1 in 6 chance of us being sexually assaulted in our lifetime. We don’t on average make less money than men. Thank you for educating me on how women are just making excuses to keep ourselves down.]
I disengaged immediately.
I’m a “Bad Feminist”
Finally, the date is coming to an end. The waitress drops off the bill and I do the classic girl move (aka dig in my purse, which is empty, pretending to look for my wallet) until he says something like “Oh, don’t worry. I got this”. Nothing. It’s ok, maybe he didn’t notice. I pull out my wallet and hold it for a solid 30 seconds. Nada. I take my credit card out and start playing with it while continuing whatever conversation he’s essentially having with himself. Zilch. Then it hits me, that he may want me to pay the whole bill. Oh no, motherf–. Finally, he takes out his wallet puts his card down and I add mine. We split the bill.
Now, I’m a “modern” woman. I believe I am just as worthy, smart, and hard working as any man. I believe women should be treated as equals. But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t like being paid for on a first date. Throughout a relationship, I’m fine making more money and I’m fine paying for dinner and activities on later dates and in relationships. I can pay for dinner. I come prepared to pay in these exact situations. But I want to be treated “special” at least on the first date. Because in a relationship, I guarantee I’d treat him special. This debate on whether you can be a “feminist” but still like things that are supposedly “anti-feminist” reminds me of Roxane Gray’s introduction in her book Bad Feminist [fantastic book!]
I embrace the label of bad feminist because I am human. I am messy. I’m not trying to be an example. I am not trying to be perfect. I am not trying to say I have all the answers. I am not trying to say I’m right. I am just trying — trying to support what I believe in, trying to do some good in this world, trying to make some noise with my writing while also being myself: a woman who loves pink and likes to get freaky and sometimes dances her ass off to music she knows, she knows, is terrible for women and who sometimes plays dumb with repairmen because it’s just easier to let them feel macho than it is to stand on the moral high ground.
So needless to say, this isn’t turning into anything. I’m sure now that I’m back to “real dating” and adulting, I’ll have a lot more interesting stories to share with all of you.