Saturday, September 17, 2011

You can't buy love...or can you?

I knew I should not have gone out on this date.  My gut kept saying, 'Don't do this.  This is not going to be fun'.  His profile on Match.com stated that he was 5'5" and athletic and toned.  I know I have mentioned this before and it probably does not come as a shock, but people tend to lie on Match.com about their physical appearance.  So if you are saying you are 5'5", I am betting good money that you are not.  And this guys profile did not include a picture.  He said he was willing to send me one.  When I asked why he didn't post it, he said it was because of his job.  Ooooohhhh...is he a secret agent, a spy CIA intelligence?  Now, that could make up for the 5'5" lie.

He did send me a picture.  It was of him, seated with his arm around a woman.  Why would you send a picture of yourself with a woman?  He claimed the woman was of no consequence, but really, there are no other pictures available that don't include a woman?  In the photo he is about 400 yards away from the camera, so judging him is hard.  He is also seated so height judgment is not possible.  He has a full head of dark hair though.  Now, lest you think I am shallow and judging a man by his physical appearance keep in mind that I don't care if he is 5'5" and possibly not as athletic and toned as he claims.  I just care if he is lying about those facts.

After a couple of bizarre emails in which he suggested we meet in a remote, 'Non-gossipy' location, I agree to meet in a public restaurant.  Perhaps the restaurant will put his secret spy identity at risk, but I am not meeting him anywhere covert. We settle a breakfast spot and meet for brunch.  He claims 9:30am is too early for him because his work wipes him out but he will make an exception for me.  Spying must be a very demanding job.

We meet.

I am disappointed to say he was not wearing an earpiece or rocking a concealed weapon, unless you consider a beer belly, a weapon.  And he wasn't 5'5".  I was taller than him.  I am 5'3". Athletic and toned?  See the beer belly reference.  Brown hair?  Perhaps he ran out of Just for Men.  Don't these guys get it?  If you lie on your profile, eventually we will meet and I will discover the real you.  Was I upset that I was with a short, fat, gray haired man?  No.  I was upset I was with a short, fat, gray haired man who lied to me.  But perhaps being a spy would make up for it.  Perhaps he was required to lie on his Match.com profile so his cover wouldn't be blown.  He was acting suspicious.  His eyes darted around the room looking for potential danger.  He spoke so quickly I could barely hear what he was saying.  And he was sweaty.  Were we in danger?  Nope, turns out only I was.

The waitress sat us near the window.  But my spy date told her that would not work.  Too many people could shoot at him through the glass I suppose.  He tucked us in a corner away from,  as he said,  'spying eyes'.  I felt like James Bond.  And then he leaned forward and said 'I am a radiologist'.  A WHAT?  You are a doctor?  So why the hell are we being so covert.  I was no longer intrigued and was starting to feel sick.

Dr. Shifty Eyes spent the rest of the date leaning too far forward across my food and telling me how much money he had.  He talked about his broker and how much he had made in gold.  He talked about his best friend Bruce who made $500 million. He talked about how he bought his ex-girlfriend a Mercedes and a house and took her on $30,000 vacations.  He talked about how all his money and free time without kids has made it dangerous for him.  He can't control himself if I knew what he meant, wink, wink.  I knew what he meant.  I couldn't control the vomit that was coming up.  He talked about the tech at his office who really had the hots for him but went for Bruce because Bruce had just a little more money.  He talked about how people knew he had money and he didn't know how.  Then he told me about the date he had the night before.  Yes he had a date the night before and was telling me about it.  He told me how in the middle of the date the woman stood up, told him that it wasn't a match between then and walked out.  That woman is my idol.  How I wish I had the balls to do that now.

I stopped eating hoping the waitress would notice and bring the check.  She didn't.  He told me about how he has patented a lot of his medical inventions that will bring in a lot of money that he will slide over to his broker to make more money.    Then he told me that really money doesn't mean that much to him.  Please waitress, look at my pleading eyes and bring the check.  Mercifully she finally did.

We sidled out of the restaurant and he put his hand on my back.  I jump forward involuntarily from the revulsion.  I wish I could be one of those women who could get over a lack of personality, charm, humor, wit and kindness and just be with a man for money.  Cause if I could, I would have a new car, house and lifestyle by now.  But no matter how hard I tried, when I looked at Dr. Shifty Eyes, all I saw was him naked talking about money.  It was not a pretty picture.  So I shook his hand. Told him it was nice to meet him and jumped rapidly into my car.  I will not sell myself for a new set of wheels.  I want and deserve more than that.  After all, I am 42 and single.

2 comments:

  1. Your blog is hilarious! I think I dated this guy....except he is an attorney. Claimed to be 5'6" but that was only if he was standing on a stepstool. And he had a 7 month pregnant tummy that I just could not get over. We were compatible in every way (and he was facially handsome, too!), but my friends said making love with a man with a tummy that big would involve a lot of workarounds. So I passed on him....

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  2. Can you get me Bruce's number? He sounds hot. Maybe we can double?

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