Dating Fail #11

Oh, wow. Josephine thought. He’s a looker.

Josephine's date was, sure enough, gorgeous. His online picture didn't do him an ounce of justice. He was like an Adonis.

Josephine was cool with that.

They sat down for dinner and began making small talk whilst perusing the appetizers.

"So you said in your profile that you like sailing," Josephine said.

"Yeah, I do," he replied as he leaned back and seemed to take on an air of importance. (This turned out to be self-importance. Lots and lots of self-importance.) "In fact, I'm in the middle of hand-crafting a boat from an antique ship model I found while traveling overseas. I plan to sail it in a race when I'm done."

"Really," Josephine said while wondering how on earth to respond. He rebuilds antique boats? By hand? From old European models? In his spare time? What's a girl supposed to say to that? Do you lie and say you de-worm orphans in Ethiopia just for shits and giggles, or just call it like it is and say, "I like to go to karaoke and bar trivia with my friends"?

Thankfully, though, her date's ego precluded any reason--or opportunity--for Josephine to have to formulate a response. Because he proceeded to talk about himself. Ad nauseam.

As soon as their wine arrived, he had something to say about that, too. And of course he related it to himself.

"My, this is a delightful Chianti," he said in a voice that was starting to sound remarkably like the dude from the Grey Poupon commercial. "This reminds me of my wine cellar. I hand-crafted that, too, out of an old Italian model. It takes up most of my basement. I have hundreds of bottles of rare and expensive wines that I've collected from around the world."

Josephine nearly spit out her mid-priced Merlot all over the table.

"Yeah," she replied, immediately seeing him for what he was: a pompous idiot. "I went to college."

The rest of the date carried on this way, and Josephine got a kick out of messing with him. When confronted with some of the most narcissistic, pretentious drivel she'd ever heard, she'd counter it with something totally normal and not the least bit noteworthy.

"I did the dishes this morning," she'd say. "I own many pairs of socks."

The best part was that the more she did this, the more he upped the ante with his self-importance. By the end of the date, the conceit-o-meter was off the charts.

"Let me drive you home," he said as they walked to his car. "I know it's only a BMW, but my Benz is in the shop."

You may be shocked to hear that she walked home instead.