To make up for not posting over the weekend, I figured that I’d give the Internet a super-sized tale of dating disgrace. Obviously in order to post about online dating, I have to be actually doing it. My weekend posts may not occur regularly as I “gather my research”. (That does not mean “whore around.” It means “date boys with a minimal amount of whoring unless they’re really cute in which case it doesn’t count.”)
My first date with Teacher Boy was actually really promising. While emailing with him, I was struck by his quirky humor and air of general intelligence. His photos were cute, and when he asked for my phone number I was optimistic.
The first time we spoke was slightly awkward, and a little business-like- I could tell immediately that this was not a “phone guy.” We talked about times and places to meet, and decided on a little restaurant in a town halfway between the two of us. The town is a Chautauqua, and very picturesque to walk around and explore. It seemed like a great idea until I hung up the phone.
Then I realized… why does this guy want to meet for a date in the middle of the woods where cell service is patchy at best and places for stashing a body are plentiful?? Oh my gosh, he’s a serial killer!!!
Well, maybe not. But that didn’t stop me from calling him and telling him exactly that. To his credit, he took it extremely well, and we changed the location of our plans.
We ended up scheduling our first date for a Sunday evening at a local restaurant that mostly specializes in pub-style food. I am one of those people that is chronically early (seriously, it’s like a disease), so I had the advantage of waiting inside for him to arrive. There were a few moments of “oh my god, what if he doesn’t look remotely like his pictures and is really scary and axe-murdery…” When he walked in, I was pleasantly surprised. He wasn’t a big guy, but was cute in a clean cut sort of way. He was a distance runner, which had given him a lean build. I wasn’t sure if ordering a drink on a first date with a total stranger was taboo, but when we were seated he looked at me mischievously and said “How are the mojitos here?”
Plus 20 points my friend.
I’m not sure if it was actually the mojitos that made the evening seem to go well, but by the end of the night I was pretty sure that I’d be seeing him again. The conversation was fun, as we were both avid readers and tended toward indie music. A lot of our tangents tended toward:
“Have you heard of—“
“No! where can I find it/them?”
“Well what about—“
“Oh my gosh, no…”
“Have you ever been to—“
“Geez, no… that sounds fun.”
I felt that he would be a challenge to me intellectually, and looked forward to scheduling our second date. However, two days after we went out he went to California for 8 days. When he returned, I left on my vacation to New England. We communicated via Facebook twice during that time, but not over the phone. We tentatively made plans for the Friday that I’d be returning from vacation.
I have to preface this by saying that I have slightly strict rules about making plans for a date. I prefer to set concrete plans involving times and places the night before, but the guy in question has up to noon-ish the day of the date to contact me and discuss what we’re going to do. If I don’t hear from him, I make other plans. My time off is limited and valuable to me. To not contact me with definite plans shows a disregard for that.
ANYWAY, the morning of our scheduled date, I had heard nothing from Teacher Boy. I finally decided to shoot him a txt, saying “are we still on tonite?” He got the hint, and called me back. We quickly (again) made plans for dinner that evening. This time, as I knew that he was not an axe murderer, I agreed that trying the restaurant we’d originally picked for our first date was a good idea. It would also give us a chance to walk around the town and talk.
Ok. Let me start with dinner. The place was a DIVE. Like, I was tempted to leave and grab pizza down the road at the place that I knew was good. We were the only couple under 90 in the “dining room”. Secondly, perhaps the delicious mojitos on the first date were my drunky goggles and I missed that this guy had awful table manners. He was a shoveler. Like, hold the fork in a full on FIST and shovel food toward his mouth. Particularly unappetizing with salad.
Also, the conversation pattern that had seemed appealing on the first date, suddenly became annoying as hell. I felt that he was constantly testing me, with his “have you—“ questions, and finding me lacking when I hadn’t followed the particular life path that he had. Don’t judge me because I don’t listen to your indie radio station. And don’t judge me because I haven’t travelled farther west than Pittsburgh. I’ll return the favor and not automatically disqualify you as a date because you have a small one look like a muskrat have never heard of Ingrid Michaelson. Or because you don’t understand the beauty of the clouds rising out of the Adirondacks. Varied experience is something that makes life interesting, not something to cause one to exclaim “Ugh, you’re so SHELTERED.”
Kiss my ass buddy, kiss my ass.
Have you performed at Carnegie Hall, Teacher Boy? I thought not. You’re SO SHELTERED.
Anyway, dinner finished (He was a lousy tipper, btw. Minus 200 points), we decided to go for our walk. As we walked away from the restaurant, he gave me a once-over. Not an appreciative once-over, but more of a “I am thoroughly critiquing everything that you are wearing” once-over. I was dressed perfectly appropriately for an evening walk, cargo capris, a simple tee and Reef™ sandals.
“So, are you up for a little hike?” he asked.
“Define little.” I replied.
“Probably about 20 mins. I know a place with a really great view that you’ve just gotta see. Have you ever been to such-and-such?”
“Are those shoes ok for a little walk?”
I cast an eye over his nerdy-ass sandals that are apparently uber-expensive and good for various terrain. “I wore them all over Block Island. I’ll be ok.”
To Be Continued…