Archive for the ‘Date from Hell’ Category

I hit the pause button. I didn’t delete my profile, I just deactivated it. The idea of dating right now is exhausting and NOT in that fun and thrilling kind of way. The slew of douche bags (hello fiscally conservative guy who feels put upon by the poor), Utopian seeking (hola neuro surfing Aussie who wants pretty smiles and hot kisses BUT no real life), frigid/fickle-tons (flirting in the last 5 seconds of the date and kissing me ONLY then and never touching me… if you like me, touch me, if you don’t, stop calling me…PLEASE), with crazy ex’s (turns out Virginia’s ex was the cause of his flake…and I thank him, as she might have boiled all of my neighbors pets in a Glenn Close move, had he and I actually successfully gone out again)…. has broken me. I’m broken.

With my stalled career, lack of true income, unresolved health issue, and general malaise regarding being 37 and farther behind than I feel I should…I just can’t fake the dating right now. All I have the energy for is the comfort of old dances and familiar hands, as much as you may disagree, it’s the one solace I have at the moment, and it’s good that it came around when it did, because this is what I need.


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I talked to him a couple times on line. Thought he seemed endearing, sorta like a puppy crossed with Anthony Edwards from the early ER era. So, I agreed to a last minute date with the Financier. Little did I know…

Well, let us see, he walks in wearing one of those “duster” over coats with the flaps, black, over a dress shirt and jeans with brown shoes and … a little black bowler hat that has a satin flower on it (should I tell him it’s a womans hat?). Then, he tells me that his ex girlfriend was ridiculous because she did homeopathy on her dog (!! yes, I ran a holistically minded sustainable pet business asshole). Then he says how dare poor people have access to subsidized housing because if HE can’t afford to live in a place that good, neither should they.

Then … oh, lets see, I think I stopped him from his constant talk of self long enough to say, so, are you fiscally conservative… and he said, of course… as if it is normal and EVERYONE is, to which I said, ” yeah, so I’m a socialist.”

THEN he says that he can tell on the profiles on line that women into sports are uneducated because they just “did some college and not advanced degrees” and that “women who haven’t done advanced degrees are more likely to be about plastic cups of beer and blue collar life than….”

Meanwhile my inner dialogue:

and oh yeah, BTW … I did not go to college asshole. So, I’m a socialist, former business owner, high class, design snob, well dressed and cared for homeopathic follower who waxes her pussy and you will NEVER get to see it because you are a short sighted judgemental fuck.

Bam, date over.

Ahem, so there is that.

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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.


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