Not too long ago, I found myself on a second date with Short Mark*. I’m allowed to actually call him Short Mark because he lied about his height. He said 5’9 on his online profile but I quickly realized on our first date he couldn’t possibly stand taller than 5’6. However, I have been trying to be more open-minded about short guys, so I chose to ignore this rather irrational lie on his part (you can’t fake height so why would you lie about it online??) and agreed to a 2nd date with him.

We went to a Brentwood Italian restaurant I had never been to before and that meal was the best part of the whole evening. He admitted to being more of a beer drinker than a wine drinker and asked if I had any wine recommendations (no judgments here; I love giving wine advice!). I said, “Since we are in an Italian restaurant, I think Chianti would be a good bet. Red wine always go well with this sort of meal and Chianti is one of the best values.” Mind you, of course I pronounced Chianti as “key-ant-ee”, as any wine lover or anyone who’s ever watched Silence of the Lambs should know to do.

The waiter asked to take our drinks order and this short dude apparently felt he was ordering for the two of us. Short Mark said, “We’ll each have a glass of the Chee-ant-ee.” I wanted to hit him across the face. The waiter grimaced and politely walked away without correcting him. It wasn’t the fact that Short Mark didn’t know how to pronounce a relatively well-known red wine. It was the fact that he clearly wasn’t listening to what I was saying as that I’m pretty sure I said the word Chianti (correctly) at least 4 times.

Needless to say, the night took a turn for the worst at that point and I haven’t seen Short Mark since.