Friday night I called in a lifeline. I was having a drink with a date that I had already known walking in was a bad idea. Widowed less than 6 months ago by a depressive suicidal wife who took her own life, he was vulnerable, awkward, and also the epitome of software nerd. This guy, I knew he wasn’t a match, but yet, how do you cancel on someone who’s wife od’d on vicodin just months earlier, leaving behind a confused man and two young boys? You don’t. You go.
So: In the hour I was with him, he didn’t notice, nor offer to go to the bar and get me a drink, as he absent mindeldy just drank his as I stood there without anything in MY hand. He didn’t ask me if/what I wanted. He just struggled for words to fill the spaces. He likes video games and PBS reality shows about pioneering. He awkwardly interjected and introduced himself into conversations with friends I’d run into before I had the opportunity to get to that point in the greeting. We aren’t talking 5 minutes here. Maybe 45 seconds. He complimented me on my blouse and then asked WHERE I got it. Umm, where I got it? Are you really interested in WHERE I got it? And he can’t follow social cues on where a conversation is heading, instead he forces it into a place that he’s wanting it to live. Sigh. I couldn’t do it, it was painful, both to watch and be involved in, so I politely bailed out.
I then ran into a newish friend and we shared some Indian food and a few cocktails while chatting about men and their foibles.
The night before… I had a great date. Sandwiched between the Man-Child cancellation and the Awkward Widower was a brilliant handsome Aussie who surfs. We are heading out again tonight, a walk with the pup, then a bit of spaghetti western and cocktails. Perfect.