All Those Dates

The 34-year-old marrying kind

This guy interrogated me. I felt like I was being screened for the position of wifey – did I live close by to have a convenient relationship, did our work schedules and sleep schedules mostly match, did we like the same foods, how many kids did I want. This was all via text btw. Heaven forbid we waste our time having a beer if I wasn’t willing to split Thanksgiving and Christmas between out two families. Okay, he didn’t ask that, but he may have eventually and it would have been too soon!

The 33-year old professional golfer

Despite having hair, he told me to look for the bald guy – hardy har har. He could have just told me to look for the guy with the awesome sock tan. It wasn’t bad, wasn’t good, wasn’t much of anything. He was too meek for my tastes.

The 22-year old baby manager

Yes, after our kiss in the rain, he hung around for a while. I decided it could just be fun, but he made it decidedly unfun. He wanted to date, but didn’t want to TALK to me and wasn’t very giving if you know what I mean. Ultimately, he broke up with me via text because he kept inviting me out with him and his friend, so I became friends with him and went to lunch with him because he works up by me. I actually think it’s a pretty funny story.

The 38-year-old bald westsider

I know. I know. In my last post I discussed how being from the westside is a flag in and of itself. Something about this guy’s smile reminded me of an ex, so I went for it. He was 25 minutes late. It was a totally dead restaurant and I was sitting at the bar, so I had to wait for the bartender to walk to the other side so I didn’t feel as lame and left at 20, then got a text while I was driving away that he “got there early and to look for the guy that’s 300 pounds.” First of all, making a cliché joke about online dating is lame, but for some reason popular with these guys, second of all, he was so late, but given that it apparently was a misunderstanding – he had set the time a week in advance and in confirming the date that day, neither of us confirmed the time – I turned back. Before I could give him shit for being late, he apologized, saying he thought the restaurant he picked was more expensive, which is kind of a lame excuse since there are ways to check on that if it was important to him and it wasn’t important to me. He then said we should have gone to a place two doors down, that yes, was more expensive, but that he wasn’t dressed for and he didn’t actually mean it because we stayed there. And THEN I got to tell him about his massive failure. His profile was a little misleading and the convo wasn’t all that great…I felt like I was being interrogated and he badmouthed Arizona and Scottsdale (pet peeve) and criticized my yoga approach even though he’s never done it. The date wasn’t bad enough to walk out on and I don’t have the balls to just call it an early night, so I put up with it and then he hugged me, asked me out again (wtf do you say?) then hugged me again and kissed my cheek and I was free. Fortunately the next day, he acknowledged he put me on the spot and did I actually want to go out again? So I said no.

An East Coaster?

So, I think I got another bingo square. Think. I had lunch with a man from Virginia. I paid for my lunch and I would call him more of a Southerner than an East Coaster, but it’s been a long, hot, hard summer so I’m going to let me have my date with an East Coaster square. Gosh, thanks, me. You’re welcome, me…go ahead and take Friday off of work too, you deserve it.

I met this guy online a year and a half ago almost and through a series of random social media interactions, we started chatting again. He asked me how things went with the PoF guy, so THAT’s how long ago it was…the last PoF guy I was “breaking up” with others for was Non-Mush.  Anyway, he invited me to CrossFit (seriously those people are NUTS) and suggested we meet for lunch beforehand so we actually know each other – so not necessarily a romantic context, but I imagined it to be a no-pressure meeting that could have led to more if the following weren’t true:

If a man only smiles in pictures with his mouth closed, women need to take notice of this like men take notice of a woman who only posts pictures of herself from the chest up. She’s fat and he has bad teeth.

Besides the teeth thing I totally just filled in all the wrong blanks in pictures I saw of this guy. So much so that all I could think about during the meal was how I’ve never actually met someone who consistently photographs better than they look in person and I went back and looked at the pictures to make sure I was even thinking of the same guy. Again, I take blame because I filled in the blanks wrong AND I realize this makes me sound horribly superficial, but I’m not afraid to admit that looks are important and that guys aren’t the only ones who can stamp a big NO on someone in just a few minutes.

Talking about money in any context on a first date is awful. Bragging about how much something cost or how much you make or complaining about how much something cost or how little you make are equally awful. If he had been a MAYBE, the conversation would have made him a NO. 37 and cheap cheap cheap is not a good combination.

This is really the first time I’ve looked at the bingo card all summer, but I’m inspired. I know to meet men I have to get out and put out. A good, positive, available air that is, haha. Summer ends for me in October. I’ll see what kind of work I can get done!

Frog #3

Not bachelor…full on frog.

It started with a phone call.  Well, an online profile, a message, but then a phone call.  He talked at me for eight minutes. 

We were in the same area of town last night and tried to meet up anyway.  Within two minutes I was over it. 

This was my first chance to be rude.  Make an exit with the friend I was with instead of letting him go on his merry way and leave me with the frog.

I didn’t.

The frog and his fly breath hopped into my personal space.

He hated the bar I was at, which wasn’t all that bad, so suggested we go somewhere else after he swigged his vodka tonic.

We went to another place where he told the waitress we wanted waters.  He talked at me some more. 

He did ask questions.  This is what he wanted to talk about:

1.  Is my hair naturally curly?
2.  Am I German?
3.  Am I an Arizona native?
4.  Did I go to ASU?

The funny thing is, the answers to those questions – yes, yes, technically no, no – were the same EVERY time he asked me.  First he blamed the repeated questions on the drinks he had before we met up, then he tried to say he was just playing with me.

He talked about astrology.  An awkward amount.

He got up to go to the bathroom.

This is where I should have been rude again.

Is it weird that a life goal of mine is to walk out on a bad date?  Perhaps not, because even given the perfect opportunity for it, I still couldn’t.

I waited.  He came back with a beer.  A beer.

I didn’t want to drink anymore anyway, I wanted to get out of there, but still.

He gave me a very condescending look when I said I hadn’t heard of his favorite short story authors. 

Toward the end of the too-long night, he told me I was uptight.  He said he was big on conversation and I wasn’t very good at it because I wasn’t asking him very many questions.    But, he slipped them all in like what he was saying wasn’ t actually kind of rude.

I usually would offer a “well, I’m shy and it takes me a while to open up” as an excuse, but really that wasn’t it. 

I had an early morning today, so I imposed a curfew and took off as soon as I could.  Okay, not true.  I took off as soon as my mother’s leftover etiquette lessons would allow. 

Surprisingly he walked me to my car.  Without breaking pace, I let him talk at me about a concert on Sunday, which was really the genesis of this communication and meeting, which is so not happening now and dinner next week and anything else he wanted.  I just knew my car was getting closer with every step and I was so thrilled by this fact.

With his digs at me, he really didn’t seem all that interested either, but asked for a hug.

He said he was cabbing it home (all of a few blocks) so I called him lazy and he said it came with his job.  He’s a stock broker.  He’s “lazy and rich” he yelled at me as I closed my car door. 

Sorry dude, you didn’t sell it all night, you’re not selling it now.  Go find a girl whose requirements revolve around your supposed money.  I’m a woman who knows that ain’t not worth it.

Dating Hat Trick

I recently decided it wouldn’t depress me to count all the men I’ve been out with in 2011.  I thought it would be kind of humorous because it feels like a lot and I decided I would be able to ignore the little voice that would say, I’ve been on X number of dates and still haven’t found someone.  What is the common thread here and what must be wrong with that common thread (me)?

By X, I mean nine.  As in seven first dates + two men I had seen before the new year.  I actually don’t find that depressing.  It WOULD be depressing if I went with Bachelor #1 just for the sake of having a man.

In an effort of full disclosure, I went on 18 dates with those nine men, because some were interesting/cute/nice enough to allow for repeat performances.  I keep impeccable records BTW.  So, since we are in the ninth week of the new year, that means an average of two dates a week, which sounds about right.

However, this week, I really upped the ante and went on three dates in 24 hours.  Now THAT is slightly depressing.  And a lot more work and less fun than it sounds like it might be.  I’m burning out and am so looking forward to the family and friend activities I have planned this weekend, which have allowed me to say NO to dates.

How exactly DOES a girl go on three dates in 24 hours, you ask?

Tuesday, 7pm, dinner with Old Blue Eyes – We met on Match and I have been out with him a handful of times with a variety of outcomes.  On this date, he started discussing conspiracy theories (loudly and people at the bar were staring and wondering why such a gorgeous girl was with a guy who apparently believes that America was involved in 9/11 and that the government is hiding cures for cancer and AIDS).  He  conveniently went to the bathroom right around the time we should have been asking for the check – a trick he pulled before too – although, admittedly, he had paid on the last couple and it was my turn again.  Despite all that, we made out in the parking lot a bit, but I finally admitted that he kisses like 12-year-old MJ’s boyfriend (something I had discovered on our third date and apparently thought was going to change).  Seriously, how to you get to 27 and still suck that bad?!

Wednesday, 1pm, lunch with Napoleon – After coffee on Monday night, this shorty sent me cheesy lovely text messages about how he couldn’t wait until the weekend to see my eyes and smile again and wanted to get me out of the office and take me to lunch.  What was so easy on Monday seemed to be more of a performance this time around.  Self-importance = turn off.  The mishmash of tattoos he has and proceeded to tell me about = most likely a turn off. On the plus side, I was wearing heels and still shorter (barely) than him, so maybe he’s a bit taller than I gave him credit for initially.

Wednesday, 5pm, sushi happy hour with Ace – Ace is [a golfer and] my last Match match I talked to before I cancelled my account and this was our first date.  Rounding out my hat trick, this was the best date of the three.  At times, the convo dragged and it felt like an interview, but then we got on a topic that we could talk about, which is I guess how dating goes.  We had a good amount in common and after a while, I forgot that he was (gasp!) younger than me.  And then there was an awkward hug at the end.

And that, my friends, is how you go on three dates in 24 hours, get completely sick of talking about yourself, decide dating for the sake of dating [or because you’re epically bad at “breaking up” with someone when it’s only been a few dates] is overrated. 

The experience has made me vow to:

  • spread out the dates and schedule more time with myself because that’s how I recharge.
  • not waste more than one date on a bad prospect (or however many it takes to realize he is, in fact, a bad prospect).
  • revert to short meet-and-greets for first dates.
  • not drink on dates if I don’t want to (although, I only drank with Ace, perhaps I would have enjoyed Bachelor #1 and Bachelor #2 more if I had had cocktails on those as well).
  • stop overthinking the whole dating thing anyway.  I keep wondering how many dates is enough and what deserves another chance v. what gets a definitive “thanks, but no thanks.”  I need to trust myself and that I’ll know when I know.