When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the next week at work my boss walked into my office. “You’re single, right?”
“Yes,” I replied, not looking up from my typing.
“You should talk to that guy, Ezekiel,” she said quickly, as if trying to make a sale. A little side note: Ezekiel was the only other gay man in my office, with whom I had spoken maybe two words in the previous few months.
I looked up. “Are you serious?”
“What’s wrong with him? He’s sweet,” she said naively.
“Let’s see…First of all, he doesn’t speak English!”
“That’s not totally true,” she defended. “Just talk to him.”
Granted, Zeke was quite the looker. He had olive skin, a swimmer’s build, wavy black hair and luscious full lips. At the end of the day, I was heading out the back door and ended up passing Zeke.
“Hey,” I said casually. He didn’t say anything. Probably couldn’t understand me. I didn’t think too much of it.
Later that night, my phone rang. I answered it to hear a thick, Latin accent. It was him. My first thought was, “How did he get my number?” Great. Now I have a stalker. I was civil though. I made small talk, joked a bit. He mainly questioned what I was saying, unable to understand me! After repeating myself for the third time, he stopped me. “You teach me,” he uttered. Can you say, “deal breaker?”
“You want me to teach you English?”
“Jes. You come over?” Hmm. A gorgeous Latin man wants me to “teach” him English. Sounds like a plot to a Michael Lucas film. How could I say no? I agreed. We sat outside his apartment on a bench. I started out with basic conversation and street names. He studied my mouth intently and tried to recite what I said.
After a couple of hours and probably ten Marlboros, I was ready for bed. I was about to stand up when Zeke unexpectedly grasped my shoulders, pushing me back down against the bench.
“Thank you,” he said, kissing me.
The only thing I could think was, “What the hell is he doing?” His tongue was everywhere. Talk about “foreign tongue.” I wasn’t in the mood to teach him how to kiss as well, so I decided it was best to keep him just as a co-worker.
Back in Chicago, my sister Robyn was trying her hand at dating again after narrowly escaping her ‘Role Play’ date. Jim was an attractive, twenty-something psychology major she had met in one of her writing classes. They had been seeing each other for about a month. After class one day, he casually mentioned that he was married. “Does that bother you?”
Thinking on her feet, Robyn asked, “Does it bother you that my name used to be Lorena Bobbit?”
It doesn’t matter if you’re straight, gay, male or female; we’ve all got our deal breakers.
Erik Fact: Here are my Top 5 Deal Breakers:
5. Bragging about yourself too much: You, You, You…Don’t leave your date wondering if you’re trying to write an autobiography. If you don’t ask your date questions about themselves, you’ll never know if you’re compatible – and you come off as selfish and self-absorbed.
4. Being rude to people in the service industry: For Example; talking down to servers, bad tippers.
3. Bad breath: Enough said…
2. Talking about past lovers: Whether you’re complaining about an ex or waxing poetic, saying anything at all may sound like you’re still hung-up on them. Plus, it’s a good indication of what you might say about your date if it doesn’t work out.
1. Excessive answering of calls/Texting: Unless you’re an on-call heart surgeon, all you’re doing is showing your date how uninterested you are.
What are some of your deal breakers? Why? Tell us about it for a chance to appear in an upcoming issue.
