There was a gent at church who apparently saw me across the parking lot and wanted to get to know me. By the time he got to where I was standing, I was long gone. Being a resourceful sort, he rolled up on Jayme's husband (who I had been chatting with earlier) and asked about me. Mr. C being on his game, grilled the gent accordingly, and found him to be relatively sane. He clicked a picture and sent it to me with the dude's phone number.
He was cute and Mr. C said he could string a few decent sentences together (which is code for nothing was terribly wrong with him in the few munites they chatted) so I decided to give him a call. We'll call him Chauncey. Chauncey and I chatted a few times. Very pleasant, kinda witty. Or as witty as you can be during the awkward "I'm talking to a stranger about myself" conversation.
Let's pause right here. Now even those of you who know only a very little bit about me know that 1) I'm an Obama-lovin' Democrat 2) I love me some sports and 3) P.R.E.A.M. (Purple Rules Everything Around Me) - ha! Anyway, these (as well as a few other things) are Michele-isms that I mention from conversation one.
Okay, let's continue. Chauncey set up a tentative date for drinks, for last Saturday. Saturday late afternoon he called to ask if we were still on. I said sure - how about if we watch the NBA All-Star Slam Dunk Contest. He pauses and then says, "I don't really watch sports."
Okay, so I'm a Texas girl where sports could almost be considered a religion. And sure, I plan my fall/early winter outings around the NFL schedule. Alright, I played in three fantasy football leagues last year and yes, I've dated my fair share of athletes. That does not mean that I can't live and let live. So I forge ahead, "Oh.... um - well, we could do something else or we could catch up tomorrow."
He laughed and said, "Are you considering cancelling a date because some game is on TV, really? Is it that serious?"
The tone y'all. You had to hear the slightly sneering pompous "you don't want to miss out on me" tone. But before I could answer, he tacked on this little gem: "You're too intelligent to be that into sports."
We of the bougie set call that the stroke and slap. Le backhanded compliment. Where you are both praised and perjured in the same damn sentence? Yeaaah - no bueno. No bueno at all. As a matter of fact, no sir. So I responded in my own tone, "Maybe this isn't a good idea."
"Michele, you are killing me. Sports are nothing but a money hustle made up by rich white men and played by people who can't do anything else. You know that right? I mean you have to know they hold no socially redeeming value. Wait, did you like date a jock? Is that what this is about? Please say no."
I contemplated how far left to go on Chauncey's behinds and decided it wasn't worth it. Really, would me telling him that his views were narrow-minded and a wee bit arrogant to boot change his outlook? And if he was this
obnoxious pretentious over sports... what else was in his bag of tricks? Instead I said, "We'll just have to agree to disagree on that."
He got a little snippy, "So you don't want to date me because I don't watch sports?"
I returned, "You don't want to date me because I do."
**again with le chorus of crickets**
"So you'd rather sit home and watch the Slam Dunk contest than go out with me tonight."
"It's not about the Slam Dunk contest."
"Whatever, it's been interesting meeting you."
"You as well."
BougieLand... you get that it wasn't about the Slam Dunk contest? And though yes, it would be difficult to date someone who didn't share even the minutest interest in something that I'm passionate about, I wouldn't have ruled him completely out for that. But the attitude and the tone? Dealbreakers. No Country for Supercilious *ssholes.
What say you BougieLand? Did I overreact? What would you have done? Thoughts, comments, insights?