Pay For My Damn Taco, Part 4: Seeking Perspective

After about 15 minutes, Cheapo returned to the scene of his crime and, without further mention of his intermission, sat down and reached for the hookah.

Not only did he leave for “a quick bite”, but he brought back with him a lingering scent of 5 spice curry, as a reminder of his impropriety. I was done and completely checked out. My girlfriend, however, was determined not to let him off the hook that easily. She smiled and playfully asked, “Oh, which pizza place did you go to? The one on the corner?”

He gave a smirk and said, “No, I went to the Indian restaurant.” She forced a fake chuckle and said, “Oh, I didn’t know they had pizza at the Indian restaurant? Ha-ha, I’m just kidding.”

Cheapo half- smiled and avoided further discussion by taking his turn at the hookah. An uncomfortable silence loomed over our table until the tension was broken by our waiter who asked for Cheapo’s drink order. He responded, “No, thank you. I was here already. I just stepped out for a bit.”

The waiter, who didn’t seem to speak much English, insisted, “What would you like?”

Cheapo’s tone grew increasingly obnoxious, “I don’t want anything. I came in with them.”

The waiter hurried to the back and brought the manager to our table, who explained the bar’s one drink minimum per person policy.

With an entitled look, Cheapo pointed to our wine glasses and told the manager, “But I already contributed to this.” He turned to me and asked, “You didn’t get me one?”

Shocked and confused, I said, “You didn’t ask me to order you a drink.”

He pressed on, “But I paid for half of that wine.”

I finally realized this cheap fool thought we were drinking from the bottle of wine we purchased together. “Ooh, no. This isn’t a B.Y.O.B. spot. I paid for my glass of wine.” I responded.

Cheapo, once clued in, said, “Oh.” Opened the menu, turned to the manager and said, “I’ll have a cup of tea.”

A cup of tea, really?! You’ve got to be kidding me! I turned to my girlfriend and found her gathering her things. She whispered, “I’m sorry girl, that’s my cue. I need to leave now before I kill him for you.” She exchanged pleasantries with Cheapo and left.

And then, like a dark storm cloud over a cursed house, the uncomfortable silence returned. There I was left alone with a man who, despite looking great on paper, was possibly the worst date of my life.

As we sat in silence, I stared at Cheapo in wonderment as he drank his tea and smoked his hookah. Was this my fault? How did I not see this coming? Did I bring this upon myself? I quickly came to my senses when I realized I was still hungry and Cheapo was likely full.

Despite my anger at his audacious behavior I could not bring myself to tell him off. Instead, I turned to him and said, “It’s getting late and I work tomorrow.”

He seemed surprised I was calling it an early night, but didn’t seem upset. He walked me to the train and said, “I had a great time. We should do it again.”


I nodded my head in acknowledgement and said, “Well my schedule is pretty crazy. I’ll keep you posted.”

I made my way home, once again, trying desperately to put this disastrous evening behind me. I received a text from Cheapo later that evening, which said, verbatim, "Listen PYT : dig u, want 2 see, build w/u soon. And u know this. I can, will move pieces in my unhectic schedule 2 make it happen. So, it’s on u baby girl."

Alright Common, you want to build with me?! Were we on the same date? This didn’t all just happen in my head. Did it? Needless to say, I never responded to his text.

So, why am I writing about the debacle of my non-existent dating life? Well, aside from the sheer comedy, the experiences in my story are shared by many of my female (and a few male) contemporaries, which lead me to ask the following questions:

What would make a successful and educated woman of color, much like myself, give her number to anyone on the train, let alone someone at 3 in the morning?

What would afford (no pun intended) a guy like Cheapo a second date after what was clearly a horrible 1st date?

The truth is that it’s a dog eat dog dating world, especially for successful and educated women of color looking for successful and educated men of color. The fact is the odds are against us. For every “successful” and “educated” man of color there are about 20 “successful” and “educated” women of color lined up waiting to take their turn at “Could he be the one crapshoot.” And this isn’t even including a whole other subset of women who are not “successful” and “educated” or even of color.

I’ve put successful and educated in quotations because they’re subjective terms defined by our individual social contexts, but for our story let’s use a broad definition of successful as having a job and educated as having at least a college degree.

We can go deeper in this analysis by categorizing what type of jobs and which types of colleges. We could also take into account emotional maturity, or what I like to call the emotional midgetry factor. Are they able to have honest and healthy relationships? Do they have the “My ex hurt me and I won’t trust anyone ever again” or the, “I’m not looking for anything serious because I really need to focus on my career” baggage. There are plenty of other factors to consider, but this could turn into a thesis and that’s not my point.

For the record, I'm not generalizing all men of color. I recognize that men also go through dating trials and tribulations. I’m merely attemping to reflect on my own experiences as well as, what seems to be, the collective experience of a number of women of color to figure out why dating is so darn difficult.

Is dating really a game of timing? Or numbers? Or some unpredictable cosmic phenomenon? Maybe, it's just not my time and I should focus my energy elsewhere. I can dig that. But what if the tables were turned and for every successful and educated woman of color there were 20 successful and educated men of color?

Would I have given Cheapo my number or even a second date? After all, there would be at least 19 other successful and educated men of color waiting their turn.

Pay For My Damn Taco, Part 3: I'm Hungry Too!

By next day my enthusiasm for Purple Rain in the Park had abated. In addition to being exhausted from work, I still was in a bad mood from the previous night’s conversation with Cheapo. Then to make matters worse, it had started to rain.

I thought about canceling the date, but dreaded having to face another passive aggressive conversation with Cheapo, especially after giving him my “I follow through on my word” speech. Instead, I decided it would be better to suggest a change in plans. The movie would likely be rained out and I needed time to decompress before the date.

I called him to propose my changes and said, “Hey, so I was thinking it might be best if…” But, before I could finish my sentence he interrupted and said, “What cancel…?”

Are you for real? Didn’t we talk about this issue less than 24 hours ago? With what little patience I had left, I said, “Actually, I was going ask if we could meet up a bit later, maybe around 8pm. I need time to decompress from work. After all, I wouldn’t want to be in a bad mood on our date. We should also reconsider the movie in the park since its raining.”

He tried to play it cool and responded, “Oh, yeah, I figured the movie might get rained out. Maybe we could go to a hookah bar instead.” I shook my head and simply said, “I’ll call you when I’m ready.” and quickly hung up the phone.

In preparation for my date, I called a girlfriend to get her recommendations for a good hookah bar. She half-jokingly suggested a no cover B.Y.O.B hookah bar because Cheapo would likely jump at the prospect of saving money on drinks. I confessed my reservations about going on another date with Cheapo. My gut was telling me this was not a good idea. She reassured it would be fine and offered to stop by the bar incase I needed “saving.” I don’t normally use my lifelines, but the more I thought about it the better it sounded. She should definitely stop by to meet Cheapo. Who knows, she may get an entirely different impression than what I have been describing.

As we rode the train downtown, I made sure to mention my girlfriend. I said, “Hey I hope you don’t mind, but my girlfriend, who recommended the hookah bar, lives in the area and might be stopping by to say hi.”

In all fairness, I honestly wasn’t trying to surprise him or put him on the spot, but I was curious to see his interactions with someone else. He didn’t seem bothered and simply said, “Yeah that’s cool.”

We stepped into a liquor store, on our way to the hookah bar, to pick up a bottle of wine. As I perused through the Argentinean Malbecs and Italian Chiantis, I was conscious of choosing the least expensive wine whose taste would not be comprised by price. After all, cheap or not, I wasn’t restoring to having bad wine on his account. As we approached the cash register, I prayed he would pay for the bottle.

“That will be $15” said the clerk.

He opened his wallet, pulled out $7 dollars and said, “She said $14 right?”

I chuckled, took his money and made sure he watched as I pulled out a $20 and said, “Yeah that’s fine.” I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what was sure to be a penny pinching evening.

We walked out of the liquor store and, by coincidence, ran into my girlfriend. Perfect timing! I introduced her to Cheapo and hoped for the best. At this point, he could either sink or swim; instead he chose to drown. My girlfriend tried to engage him in conversation by asking about his work and family background, but he responded with curt answers and a lack of interest. As we walked to the bar, he fell 5 feet behind us choosing to engage with his blackberry rather than us.

We arrived at the hookah bar to discover there was a $15 corkage fee and a 2 person maximum per hookah. While my girlfriend and I agreed it clearly made no sense to open the wine, Cheapo continued to remain quiet and standoffish.

In an effort to engage Cheapo I asked, “So what do you think? Do you still want to stay for the hookah?”

Having finally returned from whatever far away land he was at he snapped, “Call me cheap, but I’m not going to spend $15 to open a bottle of wine I just bought.”

You see, if you were listening you would know that we already decided NOT to open the wine, and you would have heard the question I was actually asking!

I snapped back, “Yeah we know that. We already decided not to open the bottle. The question I’m asking you is if you want to stay here for the hookah?”

He veered his eyes away from me and said, “Whatever.”

Oh, hell no! Was he really getting an attitude with me? I just about to tell him off when my friend jumped in and said, “Let’s just go somewhere else. I know of a better hookah bar just around the corner. I don’t think it’s a B.Y.O.B, but it has hookahs, food and drinks.”

I grabbed my purse and walked out of the bar. This time I was the one walking 5 feet ahead, but it didn’t faze him. Instead, he continued typing on his blackberry. My girlfriend sped and tried her best to calm me down. She told me not to judge him too quickly and suggested he was likely uncomfortable with having a third wheel on the date. She assured me she’d leave as soon as we got to the next bar.

At this point, I could have care less about what he was uncomfortable with. I turned to her and said, “You don’t have to leave. It’s not your fault he doesn’t have the necessary social skills to be around people.” We arrived at the next bar where it took Cheapo no more than 5 minutes to scan the menu, close it and say, “I’m a bit hungry. I’m going outside to get a slice of pizza. I’m down for whatever flavor for hookah.”

Without another word, he got up and walked out. What was going on here? Was this a joke? Was I on candid camera? This guy can’t be for real! First of all, how are you going to walk out to get yourself food? There’s food on the menu! Second of all, he didn’t even ask me if I was hungry! What if I was hungry too? Matter of fact, I was hungry!

My girlfriend looked at me in disbelief and said, "Oh my god, did he just leave to get food? Please tell me he didn't just walk out to get food for himself?

I couldn't believe what just happened. I attempted to respond, but I was speechless. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of processing, I said, "I need a drink" and ordered us 2 glasses of wine.

Will Cheapo have the nerve to return to the date? Stay tuned for part 4 of Pay for My Damn Taco.

Pay For My Damn Taco, Part Duex!

I kept my fingers crossed anxiously waiting to see if he would pay for my taco, but instead this cheap fool pulled out $4, just enough for his taco. He didn't even leave money for a tip! I merely laughed and paid for my taco plus extra for the tip he failed to provide.

Ready to throw in the towel and admit Cheapo was a bad pick, I mentally scrolled through my list of friends on my reserve bench for a Saturday night replacement. Then to my surprise he suggested we grab a drink at the bar next door. I figured why not, I definitely needed a drink and maybe some liquor would loosen him up. As we walked to the bar we noticed two people waiting on line to get inside.

He looked annoyed and said, "Maybe L.A. has spoiled me, but I am not waiting on any line to get inside a bar."

What I didn't mention to our cheap and now obnoxious friend is that I know both the manager and bouncer of the bar. There was no way we were going to wait on a line.

However, having had just about enough of him for one night. I shrugged and merely said, "No worries. It's getting late and I should really get home."

Translation: Um no, it's 11pm on a Saturday night and I would rather hang, but not with you.

Since we both live uptown he insisted on riding the train back with me. I couldn’t believe this guy still wanted to spend time with me. Did he really think this date was going well? Too confused and fed up to figure him out; I agreed to ride the train together. The trip uptown was surprisingly really nice. We talked for another hour and chemistry began flowin’ again. I couldn’t understand why our first date was such a flop. Before we arrived at his train stop he asked to see me again. I explained my schedule was really hectic. He insisted there was no pressure and he would work around my schedule.

Hmmm, now this is interesting. Here's a pretty decent guy who really likes me. Yeah maybe a bit cheap, but he is trying hard to get to know me. How often does this happen? I’m normally the one chasing some flakey dude, who “really likes me”, but never seems to commit to a date. Maybe I judged him too quickly. Maybe he’s a bad first dater or maybe his last girl was a gold digger. All these maybes convinced me to give Cheapo another chance.

He sent me a text that evening thanking me for a great night and asking to see me the next day. I wouldn't commit to making plans because, well, frankly I didn't want to. Sundays are my selfish days. I spend Sundays running, reading, watching football, maybe some laundry or just catching up on life.

I replied, “Oh, I would love to, but I need to play it by ear. My day is pretty hectic. I need to get up really early for a run, do laundry and then study.” I promised to keep him updated.

He responded, “No pressure. I’m pretty free. I just want to spend more time with you.”

The next day I woke up around noon. Never went for that run, didn’t do my laundry and finally motivated to study at 5:00pm. Yeah, this was a clear sign I wasn’t into this guy. I rather do absolutely nothing than spend time with him.

By the early evening he called twice asking to meet up for a drink. And after five hours of studying analogies and antonyms I definitely deserved one. I took him up on his offer; met him at a near by wine bar and talked for hours! I had such a good time.

That evening he asked me out on a third date to watch Purple Rain at Hudson River Park that coming Wednesday. Psyched about the prospect of seeing Prince with his white ruffled shirt and purple suite back on the big screen; I jumped at the opportunity and said yes. I went home that night feeling a lot better about this guy. Smart, cute, secure enough in his manhood to admit he loves Purple Rain, and yes, he paid for my drink.

Over the next two days he was persistent about spending as much time with me possible. Unfortunately work, running and class left me exhausted during the week. It was 10:30pm when I got home from class on Tuesday, and I was beyond tired. When he called to “check in” I apologized, and explained I was too tired to meet up. He said he understood, but I could tell he was disappointed and a bit annoyed.

I felt bad and said, “But I’m really excited about watching Purple Rain tomorrow!”

He tried to sound indifferent and said, “Well yeah, just keep me posted tomorrow incase you get tired or something…..”

When I realized he was being passive aggressive I gave the phone a perplexed look, became real tight and said, “Hold up! We never agreed to go out these past two days. I told you I was busy, and I would keep you posted on my availability. I did, and I wasn’t available. I DID agree to go out on Wednesday and that hasn’t changed.”

He gave a forced chuckle and said, “Oh, I was just kidding.”

Aggravated and tired, I simply said, “Yeah, ok. Listen it’s late. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

What will Cheapo have in store for our third date? Stay tuned for part III of Pay for My Damn Taco.

Pay For My Damn Taco!

I don't make it a habit of getting picked up by men on the train. Not since I was in high school, ok fine, not since I was in college have I ever given anyone on the train a second look, ok fine, a third or fourth look. The point is I don't do it! I’m a successful, intelligent woman of color, and cute, if I do say so myself. I don’t want or need to pick up dudes on the train.

I say that to admit I recently gave my number to someone on the train. Let me explain. The truth is I was bamboozled! Hoodwinked! It was around 2:00am when I jumped on the train headed home from a party in Brooklyn. I was prepared for the dreadfully long and painful trek back to uptown with my GRE prep book. While I struggled to figure out the difference between polynomials and binomials, I noticed a fine looking brotha walk in the train. As he made his way toward me, I saw from the corner of my eye that he was attempting to figure out what I reading. He was likely thinking of something clever to say to strike up conversation.

He opened with, "What are you studying for?”

I smiled and lifted my book to show him the cover. To my surprise, this sparked an hour long conversation that covered everything from race studies to politics to skewed media and hip-hop.

Here's his run down: originally from Harlem then transplanted to Los Angles, he’s 33 years old, single with no kids and works for a public news radio. He completed his undergraduate studies at Columbia, Masters from Ohio State and PhD at UCLA. At this point, my rule of not getting picked up on the train went out the window. I mean really, a man of color, with a Masters, PhD and a job! SOLD, I’ll take two! He asked for my number in hopes of "getting to know me better" and I caved. He sounded great on paper and didn’t seem like a crazy.

He called the next day to invite me to a showing of Bruce Lee's Enter the Dragon at Prospect Park. Here’s where the nightmarish saga with Cheapo begins. We arrived at the park to find a sign that read "$3 SUGGESTED DONATION.”

With a perplexed look, dude said, " $3?! I thought this movie was free!"

Oh hell no, was this guy really trippin’ about having to pay $6?!

I reached into my pocket ready to pay for my half before he said, "No, no. I got this."

Hell yeah you got this! A little while later, with no further mention of the admission fee, he said, "I guess I didn't have to pay, it’s only a suggested donation."

I shook my head thinking it was best to change the subject. While we waited for the movie to start we talked more about our common interests: books, music, international travel. I couldn’t have painted a better picture for this date - sitting on a blanket in the park on a gorgeous day with the perfect reddish orange sunset sky, vibin’ with a smart and attractive man of color.

After the movie, I suggested we grab a bite at my favorite taco spot, The Snack Dragon in the Lower East Side. It was only 10:00pm and despite the suggested donation comment we were having a great time. This was clearly my cue to keep the party going, but he seemed hesitant about eating.

He explained he had a late lunch with his brother where he paid “$25 for a piece of chicken.”

At this point my picture perfect date began fading to black. Was this guy really cheap or was he trying to make his way out of this date? I was ready to dismiss this as “he’s just not that into me” when he insisted on coming with me to get MY tacos. He was clear to say, “I’ll go with you to get your tacos.”

Whatever man, I was done trying to decipher his signals. I was annoyed and hungry with a one track mind to get tacos, nothing could spoil this moment. So excited about these delicious tacos I urged him to order one for himself. He reluctantly ate one and said, "They're okay." Now he was really pissing me off.

Once we were done eating I waited to see if he was going to pay for my $4 taco. After all, this was our first date. And yes, I'm all about women paying their her own stuff, going dutch, yadda, yadda, but this was our first date. Pay for my damn taco!

Will Cheapo pay for my taco? Stay tuned for part II of Pay for My Damn Taco.