I Dated the Pretentious Bigfoot of Phoenix

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Courting Disaster is Jackalope Ranch's weekly column of dating horror stories, observations, how-tos, and more by Katie Johnson. Names of ex-boyfriends, past hookups, and bad blind dates have been changed to protect the guilty.

They say there's someone for everyone.

Not true. Some people are dicks.

And, as someone who's seen a few dicks in her day, I can say they're pretty hard to love, let alone look at.

For some of us, there is a definite possibility that we will die alone -- unless we're willing to change our act or change what we're looking for. As I write this, a particular man comes to mind. Let's go ahead and call him Bigfoot.

See also: Arizona Is Full of Douchebags, According to Estately

He was around 6 feet 7 inches tall, and when he wasn't hunched over at his favorite coffee shop reading The Economist, he could be found wandering the woods with the one and only female who could stand him: his dog.

Like a good majority of my dates these days, we met at Lux. His opening line was asking me what books I had read. The smart-ass in my brain wanted to say Hop on Pop, but the shy, girlish me responded by name-dropping some assigned reading from high school.

Right then and there, my pretentious buzzer should have been going off. But what can I say? I have a weakness for tall men with strong jawlines. Thanks, DC Comics.

This man shared many traits with the elderly: irritability, confusion with recent pop culture references, and early bird dining hours. So on our first date, he arranged to eat dinner at 6 p.m.

I was 10 minutes late. I alerted him that I was running late, and he seemed understanding in his text responses. However, when I showed up, running, breathless, and clearly putting forth an effort to make up for lost time, he greeted me by saying that there were no hard feelings about my tardiness. In fact, he went on to say, he was beginning to think my gender wasn't able to read a watch or tell time because the girl he had just been on a date with right before this one had also been late.

Boy, was there so much wrong with that sentence. Not only was he saying that women couldn't tell time, he was also telling me that I was at least date number two for that evening. Was he being serious? Had I mistakenly signed up for an episode of MTV's Next? No, he was just a asshole. But because I am understanding to a fault, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Okay, fine, it was the jawline.

We went on three dates total. And for each date, he dominated 90 percent of the dinner discussion. It was like playing conversation tennis. Only rather than return the ball every time I served a question, he would catch it, hold on to it, and continue telling me chapters of his life story, which read like his favorite kind of book, a dusty old war novel.

In some ways I felt sorry for him. Here he was, a heterosexual man, and yet there seemed to be an underlying distaste for women in his behavior. He was certainly the tallest person in the room wherever we went, but he also considered himself to be the smartest, and he wanted a woman he considered equally intelligent. Problem for him was, any women with that level of smarts would never put up with his behavior.

By the third date, I had had enough. I could name all of his relatives, where they lived, what they did, where he went to school, how he spent his free time, and yet he didn't know a single thing about me.

So when he finally took a break from monologuing on date three to ask me about myself, I was dumbfounded. In my pause, he made some snarky remark about me not being able to answer a simple question.

That's when I smiled, looked up at him, and said, "Oh no. It's not that I can't understand you. You just caught me off guard. I mean, you've just gone on and on about yourself these past few dates. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that you'd ask me a question." I gave a cute little laugh and he stared at me. I stared back. Safe to say, we never went out again.

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Katie, I've seen you, you ain't much of a catch.

What a waste of a column, I'd love to see a column written by the men who dated you, it would be hilarious.


Why did you go on a 2nd date, let alone a 3rd?


It's probably best you date big dicks because you sound like a massive cunt. ;-)


@njgill  women love it when they're treated like shit.  Most likely she was denied a 4th date.


@UraHack  You will never have the chance to find out because you will never qualify to date anybody who is interested in the size of a person's brain, as it is obvious from your commentary that yours resides within your genitalia and everyone who has seen that has commented on how tiny it is.


@logicman "women" do not love being treated disrespectfully, although it is obvious that any women who have had the misfortune to come into contact with you have found themselves subjected to such treatment. Go peddle your misogynistic nonsense elsewhere - there may be someone somewhere who finds your hate-filled blather to be of interest, but I am not one of them.


@njgill First and foremost, the physical size of one's brain does not indicate intelligence, you god damn moron. Also, you want to comment on one's intelligence with a run-on sentence? At first I thought you were a moron, but clearly you're retarded. Finally, maybe they have commented on the size of my genitalia (by the way, nice original put down, bro), but I still got my rocks off and this little squirrel got its nut. In summation, fuck you and maybe you should try dating this author who clearly lacks any substance. ;-P


@UraHack @njgill  I think that person was speaking metaphorically. (Google it if that word is too sesquipedalian for you) 

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