Without further ado - Trey (@AnotherWord43) speaks (with my edits):
I met a young lady through Facebook. She sent me an email saying she read some of my comments here on BnB and thought we "might suit" each other. Was I flattered? Yes. Skeptical? Quite so. How would someone form that judgment based on some of the (admittedly) borderline ratchet things I've said in BougieLand? Then again, I work 90 hour weeks. I travel 75% of the time. My social life is ranked well below sleep, laundry and basic hygiene at this point so if I am to meet anybody right now, chances are it's through a social media outlet.
I decided to find her approach fresh and innovative and I replied back. We went from emails to phone calls and about three weeks later met for coffee. Her pictures did her justice and she lived up to the wit and humor of our conversations. Okay, I thought, this is a definite maybe in the right direction.
The first hiccup happened right around date 5 or 6 when we went to a nice restaurant in Far North Dallas. Not really upscale, just a nice restaurant. It was Houston's for clarification. If any of you have tried to get into a Houston's on a weekend in Dallas even with a reservation, you know the wait is nothing nice. At some point she perceived that we had been passed over for our table. She went up to the hostess and demanded to know why the "white folkz" were seated before us.
She may have had a point and she wasn't loud about it but in my mind, she shifted back towards the maybe not category. Dinner was nice and we had four more dates sans drama. This is why (Chele is giving me the look now) when I had a casual work dinner (where everyone was bringing a plus one) to attend, I asked her to come along. we were a few months in and besides that Houston's moment, I didn't see any major issues. Yes, I had a little pause when I found out the casual dinner was going to be at one of the Sr. VP's houses. It's one thing to bring along someone to a restaurant, it's another to have them in close settings in someone's home. Especially before the relationship is truly defined.
But since I'd already asked and she really hadn't shown any more off-kilter behavior, I decided to take her along. what harm could she do? Really, that was what I thought. Even thought it might be nice to go to one of these things without getting the "when are you getting a ball and chain" joke our CFO like to drop at every occasion.
The night of the dinner, I picked her up at her front door and she looked great. She had a huge purse and a tote bag. Yes. Here is where I should have asked the question, "What's in the bag, Tamra?" But I didn't. I assumed she was being polite and bringing a hostess gift.
We got there and everything was fine. There were about ten couples in attendance. We made the kind of not so important conversation you make with people that aren't necessarily friends but co-workers. Our hostess announced that dinner was being served. We made our way to the dining room. They seated us (the only people of color) right in the middle. Someone gave a half-hearted attempt at a prayer and the caterers began to serve the salad. After the salad, they started bringing in plates. This is where we rode off the rails.
Girlie reaches under the table, pulls out a Styrofoam container from her tote and plops it over her china plate. It's barbecue ribs and brisket. She pulls out her purse and gets a roll and a small container of potato salad. She then turns to one of the waiters and asks for... wait for it... hot sauce. You know the saying about hearing a pin drop? Well we heard the flea sitting on top of the pin say, "Welp" as the pin dropped.
I leaned over and whispered, "What are you doing?" She replied, "I don't know what they eat, I brought my own." I translated for the stunned table, "Tamra has some food allergies so she tends to be extra careful." I MIGHT have gotten away with it if the caterer wasn't serving smoked pork loin with a potato salad. AND if she hadn't next said in a not so quiet voice, "Sorry, I don't trust white folk food."
I just closed my eyes and prayed for instant teleportation to a galaxy far, far away. What to do? Stay and brazen it out? I thought about it but what if she said something WORSE than she already had? I couldn't take the chance. I stood up and yanked her up by the arm - "Tamra isn't feeling well, I'm sure you understand" and started moving her towards the front door. She's protesting, "Let me just grab my plate" and I'm losing it, under my breath, "If you don't bring yo ass on!"
Drove her back to her house in silence. Silence after she glanced at me and said, "You mad, huh?" Pulled up to her door, put my foot on the brake and unlocked the doors. "Guess you're not coming in?" Silence. "Guess I won't be seeing you again?" Silence. "You kinda buppified anyway." She got out and slammed the door. I drove back to my senior VP's house and had dinner. I had to. It was the only way to save face. They thought it was hilarious. I still do not. I will say this though: Yes, Chele. I too am too old for this ish.
BougieLand, what say you to Trey's tale of when keeping it real goes wrong? have you ever had a date cut a fool at a corporate function? How much do we hate those corporate functions anyway? Thoughts comments commiseration? do discuss...