Am I the only one who runs a background check on men before meeting them?

Seriously, before I meet a man for a first date, I run a background check.

Every single time.

For safety reasons.

I’ve met some interesting characters in the last two years so I figure better safe than sorry.

I was at a local Atlanta restaurant eating calamari with lemon aioli sauce like I do every Wednesday. I asked for the check and the waitress informed me that someone had paid my bill. She pointed at him and handed me his business card. Cute is an understatement. I waved and left. I didn’t mean to be rude but I had someplace to go.

I didn’t remember the business card until I sent my soon to be ex-boyfriend to look for something in my purse and of course he found it.

“So you like lawyers now?” He stood in the doorway with an attitude, card in hand.

“I don’t know what you are talking about” I said dryly.

I knew exactly wtf he was talking about. I couldn’t wait for him to sign the lease on his new apartment so he could move out and I could date in peace.

Another story for another day.

He sucked his teeth and put the card on the dresser and went into the bathroom. I took a picture of the card and went to my laptop. Lawyer I thought. If you guys read my blog, you know that men lie a lot about being a lawyer.

I ran his information and it turns out that he was indeed a lawyer. He had a recent DUI and bankruptcy in 2013. Divorced in 2012. This doesn’t have anything to do with the story. I’m just amazed at how much I can find out about a person for $11.99.

So anyway, I called him. We made arrangements to meet at Capital Grille for dinner.

He was even finer than I remembered. Complete gentleman. He didn’t go into the restaurant before me, he waited and we went in together. He held doors, pulled out my chair. It all started so well.

“So do you date black guys?” he asked.

“Yes” I said hesitantly. I thought to myself, I’m black, why wouldn’t I?

“Good” he said. “I love me a little Spanish mami. If you act right, I’ll be your papi” he said grinning.

This was strike one.

If I act right? Little Spanish mami? He must not know I went to Spelman. He was about to unleash all my black girl magic if he didn’t shut up.

“I’ve always wanted to have a baby with a sexy Spanish girl.” He said. “Black men and Spanish women make the cutest little girls, I want a daughter.”

I looked at him in disgust. Did he just fetishize his future daughter? Gross.

That was strike two.

I think he mistook my look of disgust for something else. Then he said “I’m a lawyer, you could be a stay at home mom. I love Spanish chicks because they can cook and clean. Aren’t you sick of working anyway?”

Cook and clean? I do neither. With my travel schedule for work, I utilize meal delivery services for the kids. Clean? More like maid service.

That was strike three.

I guess I could have told him I’m black, just like him. I could have told him “Spanish women” are from Spain. The proper term is Latina or Hispanic. I could have told him I think he’s an ass but I didn’t. He’s allowed to have his preferences.

“Check please” I said as the waitress approached the table. “Please separate our tabs” I requested.

He looked confused and offended. He offered to pick up my portion since he invited me. I declined, paid $75 and went home.

“How was your little date?” my soon to be ex boyfriend asked when I got in the house.

“It went” I said. “Baby, can you cash app me $75?”

He cash apped me $100 and we watched Netflix.

Dating is exhausting.

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