The Caveman

About three weeks ago I went to a Tapas Restaurant that was hosting an upwardly mobile African-American event. Needing some upwardly mobile African-Americans in my life, I took the extra step in crafting my evening's outfit: In short, I looked incredibly fantastic. All-in-all, it was a great evening for me. My $5 magic came back. Suitors were lined up. My SPANX didn't bulge.

Around midnight, as I was basking in the glory of the evening, the biggest man I have ever seen in my entire life started walking toward me. He was massing: Think Mack truck on steroids. The original Man. Meat-eating, homosapien, I-look-like-I-snort-gunfire huge. Dee-Bo on steroids. Fred Flintstonesque. And, he wasn't obese. This Brock Lesner like man had a large amount of muscle mass.

When he got to me, he stopped, backed up and sat down. 6 inches from my face. He sat there in silence. Complete, utter, total silence.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to have someone invade your face space and then proceed to stare--silently--for upwards of 90 seconds? It's not pleasant. It's the stuff CNN stories are made of. Everytime I moved, he moved. Everytime I breathed, he breathed. Not usually at a loss for words, I was genuniely perplexed. Not only was this caveman huge, he was also seriously in my personal space. My girlfriends weren't sure to laugh or call for help.

So, I said "Hello."

With a mouth full of rocks, he responded. "GrrrRggg...." Imagine Cookie Monster taking ass-shots of Gym Candy.

After realizing I was being growled (no, literally, growled) at, I responded with, "Excuse me?"

He spoke again, but not in a language I am familiar with. This was some primative, prehistoric form of grunting mixed with frustration. "Grrr!Rgggrgh!"

I cocked an eyebrow. Tarzan then grabbed a handful of my hair, which was big and blown out, and began to stroke it. And by stroke, I mean pull at hard enough to make my neck move. Not wanting to anger the minotaur, I moved back, putting my head out of his reach.

After a few minutes of grunting-Portugese-Spanish-English, I was able to get the following: Me from San Paulo, Brazil, Me speak no English. Me want a brontosaurus burger.

He then asked me to dance. Except he asked me to dance by grabbing my wrist and pulling my arm. Did I mention that this man was ginormous? I politely shook my head no, explaining that I was tired. He then groaned, threw two massive arms in the air in disgust, and ambled off.

Dating is so much fun.

*M*