Another day, another date. Yes, that makes at least two dates I have had this week. Neither were horrible but neither were great. And this latest one just made me feel a little uncomfortable and used. And probably a little sad, for him. Tom found me online and while he wasn't exactly a match, he seemed fairly normal which in the online dating world is a ringing endorsement. Tom and I spent some time trying to connect on the phone and when I finally got a hold of him, he was at the pool with his children but assured me it was a great time to talk to a potential date. Between the screaming kids in the background and him shouting at his own children, I had a hard time hearing him. But what came through clearly was his desperation to go on a date. I could feel it through the phone yet I found myself agreeing to meet him.
We set a date for a local restaurant and surprisingly I arrived on time. And he was late. I sat and drank my beer, played on my phone and tried not to look like a single woman who may or may not have been stood up. Fifteen minutes passed. Nothing. Twenty minutes. Nothing. And now I have to pee because I have sucked down my beer. But if I get up to pee and he walks in, will he think I left? Should I tell the bartender that I am a meeting someone and if they come to tell them I was here but peeing? But what if I return and the bartender says no one shows up. Then there are two of us who are very aware that I have been stood up. I will hold it.
Finally 25 minutes late Tom saunters in. He makes up some lame excuse about traffic. He is tall, decent looking although I suspect that he has a lazy eye, as I can't quite seem to figure which of his eyes is looking at me. We start talking and it seems to be going fine. Until we get to the topic of his divorce. He says he doesn't want to talk about why he is separated and then proceeds to tell me all the grizzly details of his wife cheating on him, him secretly looking at her emails and texts, him stalking her to the neighbors house. But he assures me, he is totally over it. And then he continues to talk about it for 30 minutes more. I am going charge him for this therapy session.
Tom spends the next ten minutes proving to me that he is an intellectual by naming off every book on his nightstand so that I will be impressed by what he has bought but yet to read. He plans to read them, he assures me. When I comment on the geek factor in his book choices he points out that he is a risk analyst and 'You can't spell analyst without anal'. I am not sure what this has to do with being geeky, but this I am going to be sure to use this saying in my every day conversations. Then when I mention that I have never heard of and will probably never read any of these books on the financial crisis or how to succeed in chess, Tom changes tact.
Tom goes from geek to bad boy almost as quickly as I sucked down my second beer (which was pretty fast as I didn't want to be sober any more). To prove to me that he is a bad boy, Tom starts cursing. He throws curses into every sentence. And then he overtly ogles my body, not hiding that he is looking over my assets. So he has gone from geek to desperate pervert who says 'shit' even when not appropriate. I am not sure what it is about me that made him feel the need to switch gears but I am a little freaked out by his desperate display. And I am starting to feel like a piece of meat. Time to be done.
I thank Tom for meeting me. I thank him for the beer. I hand him my therapy bill. We walk to our cars and I try to walk behind him because I can feel his non-lazy eye clearly focused on my ass. Sigh. I need a shower. In the parking lot he shows me a scar he got when he fell down while tripping on mushrooms. He regales me with stories about the times he has been really high and drunk. Ok Tom, go home, read your book on chess, stalk your ex-wife and curse as much as you want. I have had enough. Tom leans in for the kiss, I divert to the hug and run for my car. I peel out of the parking lot never to see Tom again. I will take a shower, clean off Tom's leers and move on. After all I am 43 and single.