He Wasn't the Bee's Knees

The date with the beekeeper was a buzzst. Yea…I love me some lame puns. I could go on and on about how horrible it was, but I’ll break it down into three defining moments that drove nails into the date coffin.

He picked me up with the intention of taking me country dancing. Apparently he was trying to play up to my southern roots.

Strike #1- Car Conversation:
Beekeeper: How about we get some ice cream on the way. (IC is like the Mormon version of an alcoholic drink.)
Me: no thanks. I gave up sugar for lent. (I actually gave it up till my birthday, and I was waiting for him to remind me that not only am I not Catholic, but Lent had ended several weeks ago)
BK: Huh. Isn’t Lent that Jewish holiday?
Me: (dumbstruck) Nope, it is Catholic.
BK: Yea, I can never keep track of those other little religions.
Me: Catholicism and Judaism aren’t little religions.
BK: What is Judaism?

Strike #2- Car Conversation shortly after the one above.
BK: Did you know that I can sing just like Garth Brooks?
Me: I had no idea.
BK: (Turns on his Garth Brooks Hits album and begins singing “I’ve Got Friends in Low Places” at the top of his lungs)
Me: (I dial my roommate on my phone and put it down by the door jam in the car. I’m hoping that she can hear what I’m having to deal with.)

Strike #3- Conversation while dancing
Me: I don’t like being dipped because I’m terrified that the person won’t be able to pull me back up and I’ll be dropped on my head.
BK: Maybe if I dropped you on your head, we’d be the same smartness.
Me: (Did he just use “smartness” in that sentence? I don’t think there are enough head drops to make us the same smartness.)

After strike 3, I realized that I couldn’t possibly pretend that I liked this guy long enough to talk him into taking me to his honey farm. (This is not a euphemism. I really am dying to go put on a bee suit and smoke out some bees.) His company wasn’t worth the amazing pictures of me keeping bees or the free honey.