I once unknowingly went on a date with a Neo-Nazi in college.
She had close-cropped blonde hair and amazing blue eyes; I asked her out for some Thai food, and she agreed to go out to dinner with me, but didn't like Thai food. She also disliked Chinese food, Mexican food, Italian food, and anything that swam in the ocean because Japan was in the ocean; I took that as quirky at the time. I don't know, I think I had a thing for quirky girls at the time, not yet realizing that quirky was often just a bus stop away from crazy.
So we ended up at a Denny's and she had pancakes and discussed the problems of white civilization in today's society. Frankly, I thought she was just really commited to playing Devil's Advocate. And I have to admit: I had never heard anyone take the position that James Earl Ray was black before.
We then finished dinner and drank coffee when she hinted that I might get to see her 'special' tattoos; what guy wouldn't want to see a girl's 'special' tattoos?
Anyway, we get to my place, the clothes come off, and there, indeed, are her 'special' tattoos: she had a swastika on her pubic area and what appeared to be "Heil Hitler" in Gothic lettering across the small of her back. My penis didn't know what to think.
Upon closer inspection I realized that the latter tattoo read "Heil Hilter," so I asked her why she had "Heil Hilter" tattooed on her back.
"It says "Heil Hitler," silly," she said, heading towards the bedroom.
"Uh, no it doesn't," I replied. "H - I - L - T - E - R: it says Heil Hilter. I think they crossed the 'L' instead of the 'T'."
"Damn!" she said, hands on her hips, fruitlessly trying to look back over her shoulder. "I THOUGHT that tattoo guy looked Jewish."
Coincidentally, this is probably the moment when I first made the quirky/crazy connection.
"I don't think this is going to happen," I said, to which she replied "Don't be that way," and that she would pretend to be Jewish if I wanted to play WWII German Camp Commander in the shower.
"That doesn't sound like a good idea," I said.
"You probably think I hate all Jews, don't you?"
"I haven't had much time to process that particular thought."
"I don't hate ALL Jews, just the real Jewish-y ones."
"Good to know."
"Like my Dad: he's a Jewish-y Jew. But he pays my tuition, so I wouldn't have my friends beat him or anything."
NOW I realized that "quirky" was often synonymous with "Daddy Issues."
Needless to say, I couldn't have sex with a woman with a swastika tattooed above her vagina, so I accepted a blow-job and drove her home.
Our second date didn't go any better.
I am Laslo.
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