I went on two dates in one day.
Did I just type that?
Did it really happen?
Me, the girl on a <embarrassing number redacted> month dry-spell, went on two dates in one day. I almost can’t believe it. I’ve never been a serial dater. I’m no femme fatale.
Number one: We’ll call him “Uno” for a few reasons. First, he was … the first… date of the day. (One, Uno, First, first; sigh) Second, as I’ll explain, he’s first in my heart.
Number two: We’ll call him “Two” for the obvious reason, and a less obvious one; he’s a little shitty.
Uno has been on my radar for a while. I first met in him August, at a community event. I was introduced to him because his buddy was dating my buddy. They told me ahead of time, “he’s a little nerdy.” I said, “that’s just my type!” And when I saw him, I knew! From then on out, I dressed especially nice for events when I may run into him. I checked into him through mutual friends, and confessed my crush. I facebook stalked him. I turned into a middle-schooler. In November, I passed my phone number to him through the buddy, but the answer I got was he had someone he was interested in already. I was bummed. I had to face the humiliation of telling all the people I confessed to that I was passed over.
Well, as we know, I joined match.com. Somehow it got back to Uno that I was out there dating! And Uno decided to do something about it! In the rush of a few days, me, Uno, buddy and buddy were all going to meet for a drink! Now it’s serious. Get-a-babysitter-shave-your-legs serious. Truth be told, I told my buddy that Uno was more of a “bikini wax” candidate rather than a “shave” candidate.
I googled the place we were going, and it had its own parking lot. That posed a problem in itself. This is all trivial stuff, but exceedingly important to me, as I wanted to make the best impression I could. Parking lot meant I should get my car washed and try to make it appear that I don’t purposefully fill my back seat with McDonald’s bags. The parking lot added an additional problem… my driver’s side door is broken. I have to roll my window down and let myself out. So I needed to get there early, but just in case, I called my buddy to fill her in so she could come gallantly open my car door.
All that turned into a non-issue as I parked on the street, and was the first there. I felt at ease and was ready to make the best impression. He arrived and the date was wonderful. He was charming, but didn’t brag. He was funny, but self-effacing. As we walked out together, he placed his hand on the small of my back, and my knees went weak. I floated away with heart-shaped eyeballs, and wanted to cancel the later date with Number Two. I was ready to start my pinterest board for the wedding with Uno, and to plan our ski vacation.
I did go on the second date. I had to eat, after all. At first glance, Number Two would have done much better if he wasn’t following Uno. As time passed, though, more of what he said and more of his behavior became problematic.
Number Two is very well-read. He reads several hours a day, and is a published author and poet. He was able to go toe-to-toe with me on many of my favorites, and many movie quotes, but the first bad sign was that he “couldn’t make it through” LOTR or Harry Potter, but HAD read Twilight AND 50 Shades! Number Two is a loud-talker. I don’t normally have a problem with that, but we were in a quiet restaurant, and he proudly pronounced his 50 Shades reading.
I asked him if his books were works of pure fiction, or were more biographical. I had, of course, googled his books, and knew their subject matter. They are about a man who falls in love with a woman while they are both confined in a mental institution. He said they were close to the truth. ok. He then went on and on about Hunter S. Thompson, and how ‘no-one’ does drug and alcohol abuse right like Hunter S. Thompson. ok.
His stories, though, were interesting. He had hiked Nepal and was able to summit peaks on 2 continents in his adventures. He had been in real estate in NYC, lived in the Hamptons, and was able to make me laugh. I was enjoying myself and ordered dessert. That’s when it happened. He ate from my dessert, without invitation. And not just once with a clean spoon- he double dipped his dirty spoon in my bread pudding.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was ready to go. I tried wrapping up the conversation. The restaurant was closing down. I brought that to his attention. The valet brought his keys to him, as he was leaving for the night. I kept waiting and waiting for him to pay the check. All I could think of was Amy Webb getting stuck with the $1300 check on her date. It was going to be me! How much was his wine!? WHY did I order the duck?! I can’t afford this dinner!
I couldn’t take it anymore. I finally said, “I’m sorry. I must go.” He stood up and walked towards the door. This was the moment. The moment I was going to get stuck with the check. I stood at the table with the bill. I was pulling out my credit card.
The waitress, the dear, dear waitress stopped him at the door and asked him so politely, “Would you like me to run your card for you, sir?” She saved me. He stammered an excuse- he thought the folio was his napkin.
Outside he asked for a hug and for a second date. Since I already knew I wasn’t going to go on another date with him, I submitted to the hug.
Follow up conversations were brief. He asked me to go see some Elvis impersonators, and I let him know I think we would better off as friends. He handled it well, so well that I haven’t heard from him, and that suits me fine.
What hasn’t suited me fine is waiting on Uno. In the week after the date I waited by the phone for his call. And waited. And waited. I continued my facebook stalking research.
I didn’t hear from him.
I reached out to him, and apologized for my delay. I asked him for a second date. He kindly turned me down, and explained that he had someone else he was interested in.
Who is this woman, and what does she have that I don’t have? Machine gun jubblies? Was her name Allota Fagina? I felt a spark! We had a connection! I expanded my research and gathered the details on this fem-bot. Turns out she’s a tall, blonde, snow-skiing, ivy-league educated PhD. Well, then. If I’m going to be chosen over, at least it’s on those qualifications.
I wrote a kind response to Uno, and let him know it was all “fine.”
In the meantime, I’m still dating up a storm from match.com. Being desired elsewhere worked once, maybe it’ll work again!
datinginmiddleearth 