Today on The Frisky, Rachel Kramer Bussel writes about a date she went on with a former Top Chef contestant. Though Bussel wondered if her knowledge of the show would be a plus or a minus on the date, his reality TV connection was much less weird than some other things about him. Namely, the fact that he brought his personal assistant along on the date:
When we got to the restaurant, the assistant sat on one side of me and he sat on the other. He proceeded to whisper in my ear and tried to make out with me. “What about your assistant?” I kept asking.
“Oh, she’s fine,” he said, nibbling on my ear. “She doesn’t mind.”
She didn’t, but I did. I wish that was the end of the story, but it’s not. I tried to dodge his kisses while the assistant chatted with the guys next to us. They encouraged me to try the rock shrimp, which was delicious—though it would’ve been better had I not already eaten dinner.
And yes, it got weirder.
Though I was beginning to realize he was not the love of my life, I was still somewhat intrigued. We all wound up going back to my hotel room. Yes, all three of us. Meanwhile, I was texting my ex-boyfriend, who was encouraging me to live it up, lamenting his own lack of youthful debauchery. “Trust me, I’ve been there, done that,” I texted back. “I’d really rather be with you.”
As much as I crave alone time, I think part of me, after already anticipating the lure of a date in a new city, wanted things to work out. I wanted not so much sex, but companionship; maybe once we got rid of the assistant, something would spark between us. But no sooner had we entered my room than his assistant went to sit in a chair in the corner while he took his clothes off. “I’m going to take a shower; want to join me?” he asked, making himself at home.
This guy was clearly capital-W weird, and good on Bussel for quickly realizing her date wasn’t life partner material. But I would love to know what was running through the assistant’s head all night. Does she get paid extra for her wingwoman/chaperone duties, or is that de rigeur? It’s bad enough being a third wheel when both the other people are your friends, but when it’s your boss and his date of the evening that has got to be a master class in awkwardness.
