Miss Adventures in Dating - Part 1

So, I am single.  So far I have liked the people I have dated... probably a good sign.  I just haven't loved any of them or wanted to live my life with them.  In the process of looking for those future gents, I have run across some specifically cring-worthy gems.

Mr. Too Classy for Olive Garden

      Being a millennial in the technology age, my forays into dating involve online options.  I have always been very mindful of what I put out there, and try to remain classy as well as myself at all times.  
      There is both an art and a science to creating one's profile (especially when the quiz based sites don't have any matches for you in a 200 mile radius).  No, I am not interested in one night stands.  Yes, I enjoy the outdoors but I don't want to be a hunting widow (the ladies who never see their husbands during hunting season).  No, I do not want to puppy train a 21 year old, or date a grandpa/person of significant age difference.  I am a democrat and get frustrated at any level of haters.  I hold communication high in importance in a relationship, and if you can't spend the time to finish writing out a work, or use common punctuation so I can understand your sentence - well.... bye Felicia.
     Once you weed those individuals out, you can start "flirting" and communicating with people you find.  I do like that their stats are right there for me to not have to background check (let's pretend for this moment that they are even true).  Now to really start chatting.
On this instance, I had been chatting with a guy (banker, from a nearby smaller town, dimples, not to tall, or short...) and was really enjoying the conversation.  We progressed to phone call chats, and it was date time. Mister suggested we go to the nearby bigger town with far more sit down meal options, and I agreed.  "You said you like Italian, how about Olive Garden." Sure!  I am cool with beers and burgers, steak and heels, or anything inbetween.  OG sounds perfect.  (NOTE: GI, the town nearby doesn't have much "classier" than the OG)
    So, on date night, I put on cute wrap dress, that showed a little decoupage but nothing I wouldn't wear to church.  I did put on a push-up bra, because those are their own kind of battle armor. From there I drove to the OG, so I could drive myself home, to his home, to another establishment, whatever the date called for.
     I would like to take this to explain that up to that Mister had been engaging, witty, compassionate, and lovely during all our chats.  I was nervous/excited/about to puke.... the usual.  He had arrived a little early to make sure we could be seated together right away, again... a lovely idea.  So when I showed up, we exchanged a brief hug.  From there he held me at arm's length, looked me up and down, and asked "What?  No cleavage?" I was dumbfounded... was he making a bad joke?  Was he serious?  I looked at the high school kid collecting menus and he also looked shocked and confused.  So, at least I wasn't the only one who thought that was off taste.  
     At our table, our server got our drink orders, and I now wary of the evening decided to go with an iced tea.  Mister, was rather obnoxious asking what their best wine was, their years, and other such questions.  We were at the Olive Garden.  Not that they have bad wines, but he was being extremely pretentious, and condescending to our server.  A big no - no for me.  Our server went to fetch our drinks, and the real conversation began.  "I am kind of surprised you didn't want to go to a classier place.  Usually that is all women want me for is my money.  But I suppose you didn't want to put out that much." - Yes, those words came out of a human's mouth to another human (me).
"Excuse me?!!"
"Don't get me wrong, you are trying, but clearly you don't have a lot of other options.  Not that you would have to whore it up, but it couldn't hurt your prospects." - Again, seriously?
WE HADN'T EVEN GOTTEN OUR DRINKS YET!!!!
So I got up, grabbed my purse, called him some of my favorite 'save em for a good need' words and walked away.  As I was leaving, the high school kid from the menus touched my arm (good thing he stepped back, I was ready to slap the person if it was Mister).  Instead, the kid offered me a box.  I took a breathe, thanked him and jumped in my car to leave.  On my way back to home, I opened the box to find some delish OG breadsticks (and nothing heals a hurt pride like carbs, butter and garlic).  I called one of my friends, told her to meet me at the bar and took off.
     The next day, I went back to look at his profile, but he had taken it down.  Wise, being as I was going to report him anyways.  The breadsticks really were delish though.