Part 2: The Dating Game
I have heard of people who have tried online dating services, and they go out with hundreds of people that way. I was not of that sort. In the year I was signed on, I went out with seven guys. I talked to a few more on the phone. They were all nice, decent guys, but none of them were right for me. Here’s a sample of some of my match.com dates (not necessarily in order and let’s hope none of them stumble onto this blog someday):
Very first date - a guy without a picture. Why do I need a picture, I thought? It’s not about that, right? So I meet him at a coffee bar, and he’s at least seven feet tall, towering above everyone else’s head. (I’m 5’4”) He was also as skinny as a bean pole. I’m not joking. He was not very attractive, but he was smart and sweet. He was getting his Ph.D. in physics, and to start the conversation, I asked him what his research was about. I didn’t understand a word he said, which shouldn’t surprise you, but what might surprise you is that three hours later, he was still talking. I had barely said a word. I also found out that he had declared bankruptcy, and he was living with his mother.
The Granola Boy - I have always been a wannabe granola girl, but the closest I ever got was wearing fake Berkenstocks and being a vegetarian (still am) and loving the outdoors. I wear make-up. I like new clothes. (Okay, I did wear thrift store clothes at one time). I shower regularly. When I saw this photographer/outdoorsy guy with a bear story, I knew he was perfect for me. Unfortunately, just before the date, I listened to my glamour friend from L.A. who told me all men love a woman in a skirt. Okay, I thought. I dressed in a pretty, floral skirt, shiny high heels and a fitted, hot pink tank top (this was several pounds ago). I did my hair and make-up perfectly. When I walked up to him in the restaurant, I saw the disappointment on his face as he looked me up and down. He had long hair pulled back into a pony tail and a non-descript sweat shirt on. Very hippy like. Probably wanted to live in a commune. He was polite, and I liked him, but he never called me back.
The T.V. Diner - (I need to preface this by stating that at the time, I kept my T.V. in the closet, and I only pulled it out whenever I rented a movie. In general, I never liked watching much T.V. [Ironically, until I married my husband.]) This guy didn’t say much on his profile, but I felt like I should stop looking for a certain type. Maybe I’d be surprised. He looked very nice too. Kind of like a teddy bear. Or a Grizzly Adams. (Don’t you laugh, but I had a crush on Grizzly Adams when I was a little girl. Maybe I am a granola girl?!) He drove out all the way from Atlanta (as did most of my dates since there were no thirty-something single men in my hometown). I was right too. He was nice. So nice and boring. We went to a movie and dinner. We saw The Majestic with Jim Cary, and I thought it was great, but he wasn’t very impressed. At dinner he told me how he thought his office job was a very good, practical job. It was stable. It had a good retirement package. Good insurance too. He was in the job he would most likely have for the rest of his life. Please don’t get me wrong - I have a strong, practical side, but this guy was putting me to sleep. And somehow we got on the subject of “our dreams,” and though he said he didn’t have many, he did have some ideas for new business ventures, if he ever found a way. His favorite idea was opening a T.V. Diner - a restaurant that had lots of T.V.s for people to watch because “people like watching T.V.”...............................................................................
The Cute One - There was a guy I went on more than one date with. Four, actually. Yes, he was cute, but we had a lot in common too, which thrilled me to death. We seemed to fit together. He loved the outdoors, and he was a horticulturalist. Still, I had my reservations. We went hiking for one of our dates, and I noticed how he was always ahead of me, and he never looked back to see how I was doing. Furthermore, after four dates, I didn’t know many personal facts about him, his family, his friends. That seemed strange to me. I think by the fourth date, it’s time to open up a little. (And, I might add, we went dutch on our dates.... Okay, so I was a little influenced by his looks.) The clincher was on our fourth date when he came over to my place. We went for a walk, and I forget where we were going, but at one point I stopped and had to think a minute: were we going the wrong way? We were talking, so I had been distracted. It was here that he snapped at me. He seemed frustrated that I was confused. I thought to myself that I would finish the date, but then I’d never see him again because if he is going to snap at me for this stupid thing on our fourth date, what would he be like in four years, or forty?
My Husband - to be continued, but first:
Dear Cupid,
Was I that stupid that I had to kiss so many frogs before I found my prince? I guess so.
Love, Shelli
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This post has been submitted to Shawn’s Great Writing Project at Between the Lines.
