Two fail dates and several conversations with POF “matches” later we come to fail date number three which is sadly not as interesting but probably the fail-y-est of fails. He, as a person, I’m sure, is a very fine specimen of male…just not the specimen for me.
Fail Date Guy #3
To begin with I knew he wasn’t my type based on his pictures but, as I said in Step #1, I was trying to be more open minded and had not yet learned from my mistake in Step #1 so I wasn’t listening to the little voice in my head that kept erupting into paroxysms of laughter over my complete lack of dating competence. Want to know the only reason I even answered his message on POF? Because he was tall. I swear. That was the only reason. Clearly this was doomed from the beginning. I didn’t find him attractive, didn’t particularly like the conversations we had, and it took him a good three weeks to finally ask if I wanted to meet up. Usually I get so fed up with carrying on in long conversations that I suggest meeting up after only a few exchanged messages; but for some reason, with him, I let it slide. Okay, really! Barely a paragraph into this and I already realize this was all my fault. Poor guy…never stood a chance. As Mr. Perfect pointed out to me in a recent discussion I am the bitch, the men are all fine. I couldn’t deny that one, I knew it was the truth, but these still make for interesting reads. And, honestly, who does that? And by “that” I mean the things I pick out to share with you lucky readers! Please, comment with corrections if I’m wrong, but what these guys do isn’t kosher, is it? (If you haven’t read Step #1 and Step #2 yet, please do and let me know because I am genuinely curious. Am I just asking too much? Is this in fact normal male behavior?)
So, three weeks and an uncomfortable amount of superficial conversation later, we have a date set up that we both agree will be very short. He didn’t explain why he wouldn’t stay long but I knew I didn’t want it to go on for very long because of fail dates #1 and #2 – subtlety is not my strong suit and the longer I am around someone that I dislike the more difficult it becomes to hold on to the few tiny shreds of restraint I have remaining. I become blunt with unfiltered speech which translates into being a royal, haughty bitch. It’s actually quite impressive if you are used to my usual bubbly, affable self. I can switch bitch mode on and off quickly, it’s a gift!
As soon as I got off work I headed to the meeting place that I had to come up with since, apparently, POF men are incapable of making decisions. There I sat, alone at the bar, hoping that the hour I had to wait for him to get off work would pass swiftly and painlessly. The bar began to fill up and soon I was not sitting alone and happy, I was instead flanked by one foul smelling gentleman and one obnoxious frat-tastic bachelor suffering a mid-life crisis. Where before I had been content texting my soulmate and joking about how odd it must look for someone to be sitting alone and talking/laughing to themselves, I was now dealing with attempting to not overhear the crude comments coming from Mr. Mid-Life Crisis and practicing breathing through my mouth so I would be able to finish my beer without gagging off the stench emanating from the foul smelling gentleman.
Not soon enough my date informed me that he was finally off work and headed my way but asked how the bar was…how was the bar? Well…how to put it? I believe I responded with something like, “it was good when I got here but it is getting crowded. I am no longer sitting alone!” Being the gentleman that he was he suggested switching venues and asked if I had any suggestions. Sure. Why not? Let me make another decision for you, dear sir.
I hadn’t planned on taking him to my bar knowing all that would occur was judgment from my friends but I was already fed up with him so I gave my suggestion. He agreed quickly enough but confessed he didn’t know where it was (even though he had already mentioned that he worked down the street from it…meaning he passed it every day) so he would still meet me where I was and then he would follow me to the final destination. (<– get it?!? okay, okay, I know. I’m a dork.)
As I continue to sit at the bar I shift my gaze between the bartender whose attention I am desperately attempting to capture and the door whose opening and closing could potentially mean time for a great escape from my none too pleasant neighbors. Twenty minutes later my tab is paid, my glass is empty, and I no longer care who is walking through the door because all I want to know is how it is taking him so long if he was actually where he said he was. And then my phone buzzes. It’s him. He is sitting in the parking lot waiting for me to come out.
What. The. Fuck?
The minute I open the door I see him in his champagne compact, idling across the way, staring at his phone. Feeling a tad creepy I walk up to his window and cough to get his attention. After pointing out my car and once again establishing that he would follow me, we make our exit. Unfortunately it was prime traffic time and what should have take five minutes took twenty and I had lost all patience by the time parking was completed.
Upon finally picking out a booth and ordering our drinks I was able to fully observe (and, if I am being COMPLETELY honest, judge) my newest suitor. There was unfortunately nothing I found attractive about him. Generally beards give me a little happy feeling in my nether regions but this one was attached to a face that I couldn’t even invent any good will towards. He reminded of my moms best friend’s husband growing up. This is not good. Not good at all. You don’t want someone that reminds you of the father of your first ever crush (I was young and he was older and basically the only male I knew since I was home schooled and spend 90% of my time in the gym practicing gymnastics…it’s awkward, I know) in almost every way including the way his lips slowly moved across his disturbingly large teeth as he smiled. Or smirked. I honestly couldn’t distinguish.
I can’t say that the conversation was in any way lacking but what was lacking was his ability to show emotion. He had one face and he kept it on practically the whole time. The only effect alcohol had on him was to make his mouth open just a tad bit wider when he spoke as if the more he opened his mouth the funnier he would be because he seemed amused by himself when this would happen. Somehow we made it so far in conversation that my Elf showed up to work and we ended up moving from the booth to the patio bar where she was working. At this point his charm really began to work its magic. You know that line that every bartender has heard more than once on a daily basis. The one that makes everyone around the offending person it groan? The one that goes a little something like, “you don’t need a tip! You get to look at me!” The look Elf and I shared could have turned him to stone had we made better use of it.
And then, after his knee slapper he throws his head back and lets out a high pitched cackle which I think was supposed to be a laugh but it was so disturbing that I immediately attempted to eliminate all memory of it. Clearly it didn’t work. I will never forget the sound that man made. I fear for my personal and physical safety. THIS is my dating life…
When I just couldn’t take any more, and we each had three shots and shared chips and queso, I decided to end the date. And then this happened: I was given the honor of paying for everything that we had consumed both liquid and solid at the patio bar. I am one lucky girl. Can I tell you how much I enjoy paying for things that other people ordered for me? It tickles my fancy! Also, I wanted to kill him. Once again though, as with Fail dates #1 and #2, he did not get the hint. He texted me on the way home and said he had a great time and would love to do it again. I responded with, “I don’t really think so. Sorry.” And that was the night I decided I was done with dating. Period! Over it!
Until the next guy that came up to me at the bar *coughcough* I keep my word so well…
So, where does this leave us?
Step 3: When you feel absolutely no connection to the person and you can’t for the life of you pick out one redeeming quality about the person after an hour, go home. Don’t waste either one of your time. Quit while you’re ahead and admit defeat. It is much better than spending $60 dollars at the end of the night on a person who makes a pretty good doppelganger for every corporate America clone in existence. There is nothing wrong with admitting that you don’t like a person.
Now that I have proved that dating is not my cup of tea I think cutting my losses would be a good idea. That is until I meet this next guy that will bring me to fail date #4. He is the best one yet. Mr. Perfect LOVED this guy!! It was a mutual attraction.
May your week be filled with blasphemous actions, sanguine expectations, and lost inhibitions.