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Jenny Slate’s Blind Date Dressed as a Knight in Shining Armor, Like, Literally. That’s a Very Sad Man

As a woman of many talents, fans would hope that Jenny Slate has a successful dating life. That does not seem to be the case. In a story she told on Slate’s “Talk Easy with Sam Fragoso” podcast, Slate (no relation to the magazine, as far as I know) has your worst date story beat.

I could try and retell the story, but it belongs to Jenny Slate, a professional comedian, and I can’t really improve upon her version. In a lightly condensed form, Slate said:

I got set up on a blind date by the husband of my best girlfriend, and he set me up with a man that he didn’t know very well and she had never met. My friend Zach was like, “This is going to be a real blind date. No pictures, no last names,” and I was like, “Okay, fine,” because I’ve never been on an internet date. I also wasn’t very interested in dating. I’m just not there right now. So I was like fine, I’ll do it, but it actually took like a month for me to do it. The guy gets my number and he’s like, “Where should we go?” I’m like, “I don’t know, what do you think?” And then he’s like, “Uh, I don’t know, something normal like the Renaissance fair.” Which was like a joke, you know what I mean? He didn’t mean it. He wasn’t like a Renaissance guy. It was a joke. But for me, I am a comedian, so I was like, “That’s not a funny joke.”

Renaissance fair, that should’ve been a red flag right there.

Then we have a series of text messages back and forth that I’m just kind of like, What is this? Is this what dating is like? I was with my ex-husband for nine years, then I was in a very serious relationship that was passionate for a year, and I’m like, I don’t know, maybe I just don’t know what’s going on. And he’s asking me these questions that I’m like, What. The. Fuck. Why don’t you just wait?

Like, “Where was the last place you flew on an airplane?” And I’m not a rude or cruel woman, but I was like, I don’t… dude… just wait. Sit me down, I’ll tell you anything, just wait. Just wait until Saturday.

So then I’m like, “I made us a reservation at this restaurant, will you meet me there?” He’s like, “Yes, is it fancy?” I’m like, “No,” and he’s like, “Okay, should I wear something like this?” And he sends me a picture of a knight’s costume. Like from the Renaissance fair. At which point I’m like what the fuck, dude?

Slate should’ve gone with her gut instinct at this point and canceled.

I go to the restaurant. I’m like, “I’m here, I’m in the booth. Where are you?” He’s like, “I’m just settling up at the bar. Be right there.” He comes around the corner inside the restaurant… this dude, and I’m not kidding, is dressed in full chain mail. He’s got a full authentic knight’s costume on, including a floor-length tabard, which I called a tunic and then he corrected me and was like, “It’s actually a tabard.” It was made of a thick, smoky blue suede. He had a crest, like a coin purse. It was authentic. He told me later he had rented it from the Russell Crowe Robin Hood movie. My heart sinks.

Were Slate’s friends playing a joke on her? That’s the only explanation. Who knows what a “tabard” is??

I’m rageful because I’m like, you asshole, whoever you are. You’ve now put me in a heightened version of a position that women are put in all the time. A man gets an idea of himself, puts himself in this narrative, drags a woman into it because he’s the focal point. Now you’re just dragged in against your own will, and either your choice is to crush his dreams and be a cunt, or be like a dream girl by being positive and supporting him in this thing that you are not a part of and you don’t care about and is totally about him. It’s the worst.

Be a cunt, Jenny, be a cunt.

So, of course, I pick option two because I don’t want to be mean. And this is also why I will one day be kidnapped, because I can’t say no. And why I often find myself in situations with people who don’t satisfy me because I don’t want to hurt their feelings. So I jump up, I’m like, “Oh my god, callback! Whoa, I feel so underdressed!” And I sit in the booth. I have a whole date with him.

Damn, my worst date story didn’t involve costumes. I’m pretty sure that Jenny Slate wins.

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AussieDan

Seriously… If this is your idea of a bad date, you’re doing well. Also, I get why Jenny’s single and assume that the writer of this piece is just as bad.

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