Mr. Polite

There's almost no point to writing about Mr. Polite, except for the fact this blog is about dating, and even the incredibly mediocre boring dates get a nod.
First date: 
Awesome, went to an improv show. Good times. Kind of a perfect first date; totally silly, really funny and a good way to gauge how your date does under pressure. Also theater, which is a given. Mr. Polite is a shorter, blonde, blue eyed guy. He has a nice smile and glasses, which I dig. He is not dressed like an idiot, which is a bonus.
Mentioned I did not have plans for the 4th of July. He immediately suggests I come with him and a couple of friends to their beach house. I demur, though inside I am pretty excited; he likes me! No one in their right mind would invite someone they were not interested in to spend a whole weekend with him!
Really, in hindsight, no one should ask someone on their first date to come on a weekend vacation with them, unless it's going AMAZING. (Which it was not. It was going pretty okay!) 
We end up at my car. He says:
"So... what do we do, do we shake hands, hug, make out? Ha ha... ha..." I pause and stare at him for a long second.
"If you have to ask, probably not."
We part ways with a kiss on the cheek, but I am optimistic.
Second Date
Mr. Polite invites me to accompany him to a show his friend has written at The Odd Duck on Capital Hill. We meet with his friends, and I oddly find myself more attracted to them then him. They are all really awesome people that immediately buy me a drink and offer me bites of their delicious dinner. His friend foots the bill. Can I date someone just for his friends?
We are seeing a play called "Vitriol", about a newspaper in Germany that resisted Hitler when he first came into power. It was not a happy story. Mr. Polite tries to hold my hand while people are being sent to internment camps. I laugh and then immediately regret my reaction. I think about it for the next five minutes, debating whether I should try and hold his hand again, but the moment has passed.
We are at my car again.
"No awkward kiss on the cheek this time I promise! Ha ha...ha..."
We part ways with no kiss at all. I am suspicious and enraged.
Date Three
I know. Why is there even a date three. I have no fucking clue. He asked if I would like to go to a movie, he has free tickets. He is insistent I meet him in Northgate, because that is right next to his work. He offers to buy dinner in exchange for my driving such a long way.
I would like to see Cowboys and Aliens. The title itself is delightful and Daniel Craig and Harrison Ford are dreamy.
He says the reviews are bad, how about Planet of the Apes?
 I'm not going to type this out, but this conversation goes back and forth for about five minutes, in the ticket line, both of us saying we don't care which one we go see EXCEPT he really does care, obviously, because why would he suggest-
It is just as irritating in person as it is to read it on the internet!
We see Planet of the Apes.
I would rather be outside. I hate seeing movies during the day.
We go to dinner and he talks about himself the entire time, and while paying the bill mentions how much he hates paying for things. I ask a question and he replies with distracted nod while gazing over my head. I accusingly jokingly mention that he's not a very good listener.
"What'd you say?"
Mr. Polite has turned out not to be very polite. What I thought was politeness was really just self absorption. 
We leave. I am inside my car at lightening speed, leaving no time for any weird goodbyes.
I sing along to the radio but change the words.
"Soooooo not wortthhhh thissss drriiivvveeeeeee."

You tell me at what point this was destined to not work out. When I refused to let someone ask to kiss me,  when I laughed when he tried to hold my hand, when his friend payed for my drink, or when he did not give a shit which movie I wanted to go to, or what I had to say. So many to choose from.