Thursday, December 22, 2011

Like, Like, no like

Yup.  I had a date.  Now I am not completely clear why I had this date but I had it.  Another Match.com failure.  I think I may have to rework my profile.  I may have to agree with the masses on the site that the best dates are long walks, holding hands, stealing kisses and giggling.  Who the hell does that?  Where are they walking to?  And why?  After this most recent date, I took a good hard look at my profile to see what was attracting these men.  Maybe it is the fact that I am straightforward, honest and unblinkingly demanding.  I am not sure.  But whatever it is, I keep finding some really special men. 

So this date started off badly before it even began.  One of the most prominent aspects of my Match profile is the word sarcasm.  I don't shy away from my rough sense of humor.  I embrace it.  This man, who we will call Mr. Like, wrote me an email explaining that he really hated sarcasm.  I was intrigued.  Why then would he contact someone who clearly states that sarcasm is a daily occurrence in her life?  Did he think he could change me?  I needed to find out.  Well Mr. Like and I couldn't pull it together.  First date had to be changed on my end because of a last minute required appearance at my kids Sunday School.  Mr. Like understood and we rescheduled for two weeks later same time, same place.  And as per usual, I did not write it down but tucked it away in my steel trap mind that clearly has a leak. 

The second date came but I did not.  I forgot.  I mean completely had no recollection that I was supposed to meet Mr. Like.  Sadly, he did not forget and showed up for our date.  He spent an hour waiting for me, asking strange women if they were me.  I, of course, was in happy oblivious brunch mode elsewhere.  It was not until I received an email from him that a faint memory of making a date surfaced in my head.  I actually felt bad, which is an odd feeling for me.  But I also felt curious.  Would this sarcasm hating, once stood up man make another date with me?  I had to know. I put it out there.  And he said yes.  What the hell is wrong with him?

So we made another plan for the same place, different time.  My level of excitement was low, so I went shopping prior to the date and of course ran late.  I pictured him sitting there, coffee in hand, wondering if he had been stood up again.  Sadly it made me laugh a little.  Ok, what is wrong with me?  But when I arrived, he was there, beaming.   And hideous. 

Men, if you are going bald on top, shave your head.  Do not, and I will repeat this, do not comb over.  Mr. Like clearly had not received this memo.  And his comb over was so thin that really what was the point?  I could see the bald spot.  People in space could see the bald spot.  Who did he think he was fooling?  And then there was the attire. He is a high school science teacher and he brought back every horrible memory of high school science I ever had.  In his shirt pocket were two pens, a cell phone and some sort of computer cable.  How did he get all that into his shirt breast pocket, and why?  Did he not have other pockets that worked?  Is there some sort of high school science teacher uniform that all science teachers must adhere to?  But I decided I will look beyond the comb over and the pocket stuffers.  But then Mr. Like spoke. 

Every other word out of his mouth was 'like'.  I felt as if I was sitting having coffee with the cast  of 'High School Musical'.  I started to count the 'likes'.  I lost count at 47 and we were only ten minutes into the date.  He told me his previous job was as an environmental consultant but he did not like office work, it did not run in his family.  He then went on to describe his entire family tree.  I felt like I might need a visual to keep up but was afraid if I asked, he may actually provide one.  He then told me he would never talk to his kids about sex, drugs or alcohol because they would just have to find out for themselves.  I think that is a great plan.  Here kids, go get high and drunk and then have unprotected sex, it is a learning experience.  But then it got better.  He started to talk about an ex-girlfriend of his that he had reconnected with and spent time with recently, having sex and traveling with her.  Wait, what?  Why would you tell me this?  He told me her name, what she looked like, about her children, her personality and even more.  It was hard to catch the entire story because the amount of 'likes' in it really distracted me, but the gist was, he was in love with this woman, so why not waste my time by meeting me for a date?


I was done.  He was not.  As I made a pathetic excuse to get the hell out of there, he suggested we 'ruminate' on the date and then connect via email to discuss what we thought of each other.  I replied 'Like, I am not much into ruminating because it like, hurts my head, so I think I will just like skip that'.  No ok, I didn't say that but I really wanted to.  Instead I smiled, said it was nice to meet him and held out my hand for the platonic, non-committal handshake.  And then I got the hell out of there.  Perhaps the dating gods were trying to tell me something when the first two tries at this date didn't come to fruition.  I  should listen more carefully for their subtle hints.  But of course, I won't.  I will go out on another date soon enough because after all I am 43 and single. 

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