Survival Instinct

I try to stay away from personal details with this blog, but now and then an experience is so singular, you just have to share it with the world. And thus, my dating life. I'm not really a natural-born dater, per se. I find dates to be forced and typically awkward and nerve-wracking, but they are a necessary evil, no? Frogs lead to princes and such, or so I've heard. So I'm out with this Aussie recently. We're sitting at a bar and he's going on and on about his love of "fine wines" and "Michelin star restaurants" which was gag-worthy enough inofitself. I'm just kind of sitting there nodding and pretending I wouldn't rather be watching True Blood. When it comes my turn to share, I mention I'm a writer. He then proceeds to RECITE a passage from a Norman Mailer novel I'd never heard of called "An American Dream," which is apparently about a man who strangles his wife to death. Awesome. Except-wait for it-the passage he chose to memorize/recite was actually the passage that describes the murder! It's just one of those moments where you're sitting there, and life is blowing your mind, but not in a good way. And then you mumble something like, "Ok, well, I have to be up really early," and let him walk you to a random corner bodega instead of your apartment because you "need to get toilet paper" and also because you'd rather not be strangled to death, thanks.