Karl works at a hedge fund and is a professional poker player on the side. To put it simply: he’s loaded.
If he hadn’t told me about his job during our 30 minute walk around the West Village, as he tried to find a restaurant he had said was “just around the corner,” I would’ve never figured it out. He had wanted to meet me on a random street corner. Although I might’ve resembled a prostitute the night he’d met me (I was a bit drunk and dancing on a table in 6-inch heels)- I’m not the type of girl who meets men on street corners. In my experience with rich guys, they usually know exactly where they want to eat and will dictate where they’re taking you to BEFORE the date. At least he praised my new black boots on our walk and quickly added, “I’m not gay, I promise. They’re just really nice.”
He ordered one of the cheapest entrées on the menu, and our wine tasted SOUR, but he insisted on drinking it anyway because he didn’t want to make a fuss with the waiter. Two glasses of sour wine later… I asked him how he spends his free time, besides dropping $50K a night at the poker table. “I hang out at home a lot with my roommate. I’m not gay or anything haha, we’re just good friends!”
By his 4th “I’m not gay” comment, I was really starting to think that this guy was indeed gay. I imagined him at a faggy poker orgy, with guys placing poker chips up his ***…my attraction to him took a dive from a 6 to a 0. The more we talked, it became apparent that this guy didn’t travel nor go out a lot. I asked him if all the money he won through poker just went straight into his savings account. Karl grinned and leaned in as if he were about to tell me a secret. Then…as if being confused about my date’s sexuality weren’t already enough, he confessed, “I love to shop!”
The rest of our conversation went like this:
Karl: Don’t you just love Prada’s Fall collection?
Me: I haven’t seen it.
Karl: One of my favorite men’s designers is Antonio Marras. You know him?
Me: Nope, haven’t heard of him. So, have you done a lot of shopping lately?
Karl: Yes, I just bought 40 pairs of jeans this month! I LOVE jeans.
This almost made me fall off my chair, literally. “40 pairs of jeans?!” I repeated loud enough that the couple next to us turned. I searched his face to see if he was joking- but he was dead serious about it. WTF. As I tried to wrestle with the fact that I was on a date with a weirdo who owns 10x more jeans that I do, I pictured my 4 lonely pairs dangling in my closet. I wanted to ask him if he wore a different pair every day of the year, but I had heard enough. Whether Karl was straight or gay- I decided right there- that I could never date a guy who owns more clothes than I do. Can you please send a manly-man my way?
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