My disastrous fair date

The cage is spinning. My date is shrieking. His commemorative Trumbull County Fair cup is flying around us spraying Mountain Dew everywhere. I reach out and grab the little bastard from it's mid-flight orbit. I'm laughing hysterically and having actual fun for the first time since we arrived at the fair. I've never in my entire life felt like more of a man. I've never in my entire life been less attracted to one. The date is over for me. It hadn't been going well anyway, but this was the moment I knew it was a total wasted effort.

When we're on solid ground again, I wait for my date to regain his composure. Then, it's confrontation time.

"So... You said... What was it exactly? Oh, something about being an avid roller coaster enthusiast? Right? Yeah. Avid... Oh, here's your cup, by the way. I saved it from a slow spinning death. Not much Mountain Dew left in there. We are wearing most of it."
"I'm so sorry."
"I don't really care about the Mountain Dew. I'm more concerned with the whole concept of you describing yourself as an adrenaline junkie with a particular hunger for thrill rides... You were screaming up there, almost the entire time. It was... shrill to the point of deafening. And continuous. And horrifying. I'm curious if you knew that was going to happen and were just hoping it wouldn't? Or, maybe you thought you'd luck out and I wouldn't want to ride anything while we're on our lovely fair date. You asked me here - specifically because of the rides, that you so adamantly wanted to ride the shit out of so desperately. So... I'm confused by the logic of any of this. Are you not the guy I've been talking to online? Because that's who I want to be here with. If you have his number, I'd like to talk to that guy again. Because if you are that guy, I'm seriously doubting anything you ever said to be true at this point. I also think you should probably, no definitely, delete the whole straight acting portion of your online profile. I doubt anyone in a twenty mile radius is buying that shit after this."
"You want me to take you home?"
"Absolutely. Yes, please."

This guy was extremely charming in text format. He was interesting and cool and intelligent and funny and masculine and sexy - in text format. In reality, none of those things were true in person. Also, the lazy eye was far more disturbing in person than in photo. I was really happy he wore sunglasses, because that whole skewed lines of vision concept freaks me right out. I did lie about my comfort level regarding that, but I was willing to give it a chance. I was willing to give this seemingly amazing guy with a slight genetic defect a chance - until his mom called, three times. Then there was the whole Philly cheese-steak debate.

"Please, for the love of God, stop talking."
"It's just that I actually lived in Philly-"
"-for five years, I know. So, this isn't a genuine Philly cheese blah blah blah. I don't care. I'm hungry. I want some steak-ums and melted cheese with grilled peppers and onions. I don't care that it should be cheese whiz or whatever, because that's a genuine Philly. Right? Yep. Still don't care. I want my bullshit Philly and I don't care. The genuine deal sounds absolutely terrible and I wouldn't eat that shit. Not even in Philly."
"It shouldn't even be called a Philly-"
"Wow. Please, stop. We're in Ohio. I don't even care about the origins of a fucking sandwich. I don't even want this now. You have ruined this for me. Just like the deep fried oreos."

Which were freaking nasty, but he insisted I try them. They were gooey deep fried balls of sugary shit. I hated them. That I was willing to let go. Obviously, not for everyone and definitely not for me. But, the whole history and correct assembly of the Philly cheese-steak, which had gone on the entire time the guy was making it and halfway through me eating it until I gave up and threw the thing away to rid myself of it and the associated conversation, was not something I was going to let go. I wanted to punch him in his face - repeatedly, possibly with a brick or hammer or something similarly traumatic.

That's when we started on the rides. We rode only the one - the spinning cages. Then, I officially declared the date as DOA. I had been attempting to revive it since it started and there simply wasn't a point. I hated this guy so completely and intensely that I could not get away from him fast enough. I had downloaded the fair's own app previous to the date and used the Find Your Car feature when we first arrived and parked, because I'm crafty like that and on top of shit. So, I knew exactly where the damn car was. But, my date was just as sure he knew better than me where his own car was. It was the Philly cheese-steak debate all over again. Since I was fed up and feeling especially sadistic, I let the asshole hunt for his own car for over two hours in the dark. His key chain fob didn't work, either. So, no hints or help from the car itself. Eventually he did finally give up and ask me where I thought the car was. We found it immediately. We drove in absolute silence. I enjoyed this part of my date about as much as any other, except for the conclusion of it and the part where I never had to talk to, see, or spend any amount of time with this guy ever again.