So remember all the energy I had around January 1st? Remember how excited I was for 2011? Well, that's over. Maybe it is the frozen tundra that has enveloped my house. Maybe it is the realization that although it is 2011, the men from 2010 are still hanging around. Maybe it is the two dates I have had in 2011 that have set the miserable tone for the new year. Maybe I have not been drinking quite enough. Whatever has changed my view, I need it to stop. I would like to regain the youthful exuberance I had mere weeks ago. And I will, I am sure. But these two dates have set me back. I was trying to stay to a strict diet of good men and therefore good dates. And I thought I was on the right path but I think these dates did not accurately list their ingredients on the packaging. False advertising has led me astray.
I was hesitant to write about the first date, as said date has access to this blog. But since he never called me again for a second date and I waited an appropriate amount of time, I feel he is fair game. So here it is. I met someone. Not online, not on a blind date, not through my mother. I met someone when I was out with a friend. I met a man who was going through the same divorce situation as me, seemed to have the same family values (no not the George Bush family values) as me and was attractive and most important...funny. We met while I was out with my friend at a bar. My friend knew this man whom we will call Dave. She introduced us. This was not a setup, it was a random meeting. Now to be fair, which is usually not my style, Dave did mention he was dating someone. But dating someone and engaged/married to someone are completely different entities, right? To make a long story short, I actually liked Dave's company. I enjoyed talking to him. And I hope he enjoyed talking to me.
So the new me emailed Dave and offered up my blog which had been a topic of conversation. And then I offered up a dinner date with me. Who could pass on this? He didn't. We set a date. I was actually excited. I even wore mascara. We met for dinner. We talked and talked and talked. Which is really not that hard for me because I always have a lot to say and an opinion on everything, even if I know nothing about it. But I am pretty sure I allowed him to get a word or two in. I was having a good time. I was laughing. I was leaning forward just enough to show off my assets, I was asking questions about his life. We talked and talked some more until finally I said, I had to relieve my babysitter who I told I would be home by 10pm at the latest. When I got to my car, after hugging Dave goodbye, the dash clock read 11:30pm. Four hours. We had dinner for four hours. That's a long time. And it didn't feel like a long time. I was excited. This was a good date. Over two years of dating and finally a good date. And a guy I would like to see again. All positive in my book. And then....
So I emailed Dave a thank you. One day passed. No response. Two days passed. No response. Eventually late on day three I received a 'thank you for my thank you email' response. It was a very underwhelming response from someone who had spent four hours with me. But I am not one to give up that easily. No sirree. I am a glutton for punishment. If at first they can't impress upon you that they aren't interested, by all means make sure you force them to rub it in. So I emailed him back a couple of days later (take that!) and told him if he wanted to get together again, I was game. Well, needless to say, I am still waiting for a response.
But I am baffled. Do you spend four hours talking to someone and then nothing? Was I talking so much that he could find no escape? Am I truly that hideous? So the one good date I have in years and it ends with the traditional blow off. Of course my girlfriends and mother all told me he probably liked me so much he was scared. Now I would have bought into that when I was 16 and possibly when I was 22 but not now. Sadly I have just got to face the truth. He is clearly mentally deranged and cannot see that I am so wonderful. Good, now I feel better.
And feeling better leads me to my second date for the month of January. And for this one we must step backward. Back to Bob. Yes, I know you are all groaning and saying, 'For the love of God, please do not go out with him again'. But I can't help it. I am Brenda and he is Dylan. I know he is emotionally unavailable. I know he is too cool for school. And I know he has a permanent shit eating grin. And I know he will always choose Kelly over me, but like Brenda, I am drawn to his devilish ways and I can't let go. Until now.
So Bob was back in touch with me. And like a moth to the flame, there I was hovering, waiting. And he suggested dinner. He actually agreed to an actual calendar date. Ok, he agreed in his Bob way which was to say that date 'could be ok...' I took that as a definitive maybe. The date approached. I played it cool. He called to confirm. He called. The significance was not lost on me. He didn't text or email, he called. It must be love, right? So the plan was to meet at my place. Would we eat in or go out? The stress was too much. If we ate in, what would I make/buy? Would I make a fire in the fireplace or was that overkill and what would I wear to look casual but elegant? If we went out, what would we do at my place first? Would we have a drink, something to eat? It was all too much. Eventually we decided to go out. He was to arrive at 7pm. I busied myself doing work so as not to appear nervous, desperate or slightly crazed. He arrived at 7:30. My nervousness had turned to hunger and I was already eating. I was sort of starting to lose interest.
He came in. And boy did he look good. Really good. Slight tan from his time in the islands. Cool, I am not trying too hard, sweater. Sexy glasses perched on his head. He proceeded to wander aimlessly through my house. What was he looking for? My bedroom? I would be happy to show him. But no, that was not to be. A glass of water and a stiff conversation about movies later, and we were off to dinner. I was really losing interest now. Dinner. I discovered that he loves Thai food, a food I loathe. I discovered that he loves ice hockey. No shock here, a sport I loathe. I discovered something I probably already knew but ignored, Bob is sort of boring. I wanted to scream at him 'I don't care about kite boarding and wind, I don't care about paddle boarding, I just want to use you for your body'. But I felt like that might be a bit rude and shock the other dining guests. I was still hopeful that after this action packed dinner, I might be rewarded. How wrong I was.
When we returned to my place, he hugged me and called it a night. HUGGED ME. What the hell is that? This was not a first date. This was not even a third date. Seriously, I think he might be gay. It can't possibly be me, right? Right??? I am not even going to entertain the thoughts from well wishers that he likes and respects me too much. I was not asking for respect at that exact moment.
So closing my door and locking it, I came to the conclusion that I will have to let Bob go. Like my shoulder pads and torn sweatshirts from the 80's, Bob needs to remain part of my past. I will lock him away in my heart as the one who refused to have sex with me. He will always hold that special place. But now I must move on. Greener pastures, right? There is someone out there who will understand and get me. There is a man out there who at this moment is looking for me. I just know it and I will forced myself to believe it because after all, I am 42 and single.