It’s late on a Saturday night and I’m at a hipster bar, so the correct assumption here is that I’m drunk. I happen to stumble on a charming middle-aged fellow who not only shares my love of Indie music but also has a motorcycle. Seeing my dream of being a Hell’s Angel coming true, I am obviously interested in getting to know this chap better.
A few days later he takes me to an unassuming hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant. I’m very excited, as he has presented me with the opportunity to awe and inspire him with my discriminating palette for fried treats. My stomach rumbled happily. We decided to start off with the PuPu platter, which included a sampling of delicious appetizers. As I’m lifting the piping hot crab rangoon to my salivating mouth he informs me that I “have a very underrated body type.” As the crab rangoon taunted my gaping mouth, I gently place it back down and sarcastically asked, “And what exact body type is that?”
Chubby Chaser instantly knew he was up a creek without a paddle. I have to give him credit for being of at least average intelligence. “Well,” he stammered, “you look…well…you look…um…healthy.”
I eagerly licked the pool of grease that was congealing on my significantly less hot crab rangoon. “And who exactly is underrating me?” Being the observant hipster that he is, CC responded, “Well…I mean…you’re not rail thin.”
Why thank you, Chubby Chaser. For clearly I do not have two functioning eyes, nor have I ever had access to a mirror. Thank you for pointing out my apparent lack of anorexia. Sensing I am clearly annoyed he quipped, “I was just trying to give you a compliment.”
A compliment. Really.
Oh yes, I suppose telling me YOU find me attractive even though NO OTHER MAN does obviously thrills me.
Naturally, I spent the rest of the date inhaling the platter of fried goodness in between doing shots of sweet and sour.
Dating Rule #2:
Back-handed compliments not only will result in you going home alone, but you will also be going home hungry. I will finish my meal. Then I will finish yours.