first date

I’m no Annie, but you’re no Tony Micelli: My Very First Online Blind Date

Anyone remember when there were no profile pictures available on dating sites, and that was kind of okay, because the Interwebs and everything it could possibly offer was very new? During that infancy, I went on one blind date with someone I met in some sort of single chat room…or something. I honestly don’t remember how we started talking, but we did and it was a great learning experience, so stop judging me.

Brian was a very new officer for the NYPD and I believe he had just graduated from the academy within the same year that we met. We spoke on the phone and decided to meet near my temp job at the time and go to the movies. ‘Cause…you know…a dark movie theater is a great place to get to know a stranger.

I remember getting out of work and being extremely attentive to every guy with brown hair and eyes who looked to be in my age range. I didn’t really know what Brian looked like other than hair and eye color, and that he was “built.” I must’ve looked really intense as I walked down the cold streets of the city toward our meeting spot, because a pretty attractive guy walked up to me smiling and I said, “Brian?” and he responded, “Nope.” WEIRD – was I imagining him walking up to me or was he just nuts? “Okay, sorry,” I sputtered awkwardly, as I kept walking.

I arrived at the front of the movie theater and there he was. George Costanza. He certainly had brown eyes and hair, but I had never seen someone who looked more like Jason Alexander to date. He was a little shorter, with bigger man-boobs. And he was definitely fit but the bulging chest muscles (aforementioned “man-boobs” were made of muscle) didn’t match up with anything else on his body. And I’m sorry but I’ve never found George to be attractive. With permanently crinkled eyes behind round glasses and a slight separation of his thin pasty lips, he confirmed that he was, indeed, Brian. Great.

After getting tickets for our movie, we went to a café to pass some time before it started. I specifically remember Brian telling me that since I told him my hair was very curly and reddish-brown, he thought I would resemble orphan Annie. He was disappointed that I didn’t resemble her, and he made that very clear. I apologized for not having short cheddar cheese-colored curls and causing such disillusionment, which didn’t seem to make either of us any more comfortable.

aileen-quinn-little-orphan-annie

Brian’s dream date. How creepy.

Photo Credit: http://i1.wp.com/pgoaamericanprofile2.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/aileen-quinn-little-orphan-annie.jpg

We sat at the café, and thumbs up to Brian, who was bitter about my lack of banana curls, yet still attempted to make conversation. Each time he did this, his thin lips separated with a smacking sound and foam developed on the corners of his mouth. If that detail doesn’t turn you on, think about a body builder alternating his pec twitching to show off a unique physique. I specifically remember Tony Danza (aka: Tony Micelli) doing this on “Who’s the Boss” once in a while. To summarize, I was on my first ever online blind date and he looked like George Costanza enduring a mild seizure. I believe he thought he looked like a buff Italian guy like Tony Micelli who had the right to judge my appearance…but I’m only speculating.

A little while later, Brian and I sat in the movie theater and made some more small talk. It was during this time that Brian confessed that some of his buddies at the (police) academy mentioned that he somewhat resembles George Costanza.

No shit. I didn’t think you “resembled” him. I thought you literally were him.

But I didn’t say that. I feigned surprise and giggled a little bit and we moved forward.

Beyond the fact that I spent my very first online blind date with a Seinfeld caricature with a freakishly big chest and mouth foam, I have to also say that Patch Adams might be one of the worst movies of all time.

So it was a success all around.

Brian (posing with Judith Light):

micelli and costanza mix

Photo Credits: http://www.ivillage.com/hottest-tv-dads/1-a-531543; http://replygif.net/thumbnail/243.gif

An Informative and Stimulating Guest Post: Cat Man Has Struck

Rejoice! I’m thrilled that one of my amazing friends has agreed to share one of her very own not-so-smitten dating stories and has allowed me to publish it here. While Beth lives across the country from me, her tale proves that crazy blind dates can occur anywhere, at any time:

The cool springtime air brushed against my face as I walked towards one of my favorite cafés in Minneapolis. He stood outside the door, looking around in anticipation of my arrival. He hadn’t seen me yet. We had connected through an online dating service and this wasn’t my first time meeting someone that way.

I typically did these first meetings during the day; and I always had plans immediately following, that would limit the amount of time we spent together straight away. Sound crazy? Trust me, it’s not.

He was tall, kind of cute and smiled big when he saw me stroll up. We said our hellos and he opened the door for me as we headed inside. So far, so good.

We tucked ourselves into a booth and made small talk as we studied the menu. He was soft spoken and seemed interested in what I had to say. As we ate, we learned we had some common ground. Cycling, photography, camping.

I wasn’t immediately attracted to him in an I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off kind of way, but he was cute and nice. I know physical attraction can develop as you get to know someone, so I was willing to see him again.

He asked me out again a couple of days later and we met up at an art museum. Ten minutes into meandering around the galleries, things kept getting more and more uncomfortable. He didn’t get my sense of humor and I certainly didn’t get his. Conversation was forced and awkward.

As I was quietly figuring out my exit plan, we turned into another room and there was a photograph of a cat on display. He smiled and exclaimed how cute it was. I bit my tongue, hiding my irrational fear of felines. There was no point in revealing that anymore.
beth-cat-crop Proof of Beth’s comfort level with cats.

“I bought coloring books for my cats,” he continued to tell me. Did I hear him correctly? I was hesitant to ask. Coloring books for his… okay.

“Oh… they color?” was all I could think to say. For the next twenty minutes he talked about the psychology of cats and their need for creative stimulation and I had visions of what future dates with him might look like. Would he make me dress up like a cat? Would HE dress up as the cat? Then what would I be? A ball of yarn? For the love of all things, I didn’t want to find out. He had no clue that I was leading us back towards the lobby while pretending to look at art along the way.

“So, want to grab a bite?” he asked as we stood in the busy atrium. I’m either really good at hiding my disinterest or he was just that clueless. There was a large crowd gathering for an event at the museum and I was scanning the room for the door that led to the parking garage.

“Can I help you?” said a woman about my age. She smiled and the look in her eye told me she knew exactly the situation I was in.

“Parking garage?” I asked her quietly, my date totally oblivious to the exchange I was having with this woman. She winked and nodded her head in the direction of the door.

“Thank you,” I said softly, touching her arm and admiring her ink. She smiled and went on her way. I told the cat-man that I had a lot of work to do and needed to call it a night. We walked out to our cars, embraced in an awkward hug and I quickly got the hell out of there.

cat-man A portrait of Beth’s date from the museum…at least in her mind. http://www.halloweencostumes.com

I drove home, cautiously watching my tail.

Pun intended.

I hope that this dude has discovered kittywigs.com. It might be the perfect source of entertainment and comfort for him. And what’s up with the
cat-obsessed men out there? For more thoughts, stories and inspiration from Beth, you can visit her fantastic blog here: theawkwarddancer.com

Tales of the Regular

It was somewhat of a challenge to start having regular exchanges with Jay via okcupid.com. After we had introduced ourselves, there was maybe one more message between the two of us and then I didn’t hear back from him for about two months. When I had assumed that he had simply moved on to brighter pastures, he explained that he was having some health issues and apologized for disappearing. He seemed like a good guy with a solid personality and sense of humor. I liked his attractive face and shaved head in all of his well-displayed photos. At the time, he lived very close to where my apartment was, and actually had a good job and a car, which I liked as well.

So the somewhat flirtatious banter started again, and then carried over into actual phone calls. It was during our first phone conversation that I learned that Jay was in the beginning stages of a fairly serious health condition. I won’t get into specifics, but it is an illness that chooses its own timetable, and definitely one that can mess with someone’s emotional well-being. While he attempted to play down the effects it had had on his life thus far, I could tell that he was questioning a lot of aspects of his future. But he was online looking for a date and possibly a relationship, right? I decided to be the dynamic individual I had always suspected myself to be and give it a shot with someone who seemed like a great person. Being a relentless dreamer, I looked into my future with Jay and imagined myself the noble wife of an ill but admirable man, wheeling him around and constantly trying to keep him comfortable while, showing a brave face to the rest of the world. I’m a hero, obviously.

There have been very few first dates where the guy has picked me up from my residence in an actual vehicle that they own (imagine that!), but Jay was one of them. So I got door-to-door service for the time and resources used on this date. That’s good considering how it went.

Strike 1: Rude, secret smoker. He said on his profile that he didn’t smoke cigarettes but his car reeked of smoke from the second I opened the door. I smoked regularly for a number of years and probably wouldn’t have judged him if he was open about being a smoker from the beginning. The pack that nearly flew out of his glove box didn’t help his cause too much either. He also complained about “not being able to get around the area” or “get an easy parking spot.” He grew up and had been living about 20 minutes away from where we were at the time for his entire life. Within the first 5 minutes in his car, I found him to be a rude liar who shouldn’t have volunteered to drive. So things were going well.

amazing-race-russian-taxi-guy

An image of Jay shortly before (and after) our date.
Source: http://www.tvgasm.com/home/amazing-race-recap-rushin-russians.html/2

Strike 2: HOLY CRAP this guy is unapologetically racist. After grumbling about not being able to find his way around anywhere, and the lack of parking spaces, we got to the restaurant (within minutes) and he parked across the street (easy peasy). We saw an older Latino man in chef whites limping slowly across the street, clearly trying to do it quickly. It was obvious that the man worked at the restaurant he had just walked out of and I immediately felt bad for him. Jay said a rude remark about the guy’s limp.

When we were sitting inside the restaurant a few minutes later, Jay brought up the guy’s limp again, laughing. I looked at him with disgust, and asked him why the Mexican guy who works in a kitchen is amusing.

He said “Oh, I thought he was regular.”

Come again? “What’s regular?” I asked. I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. Did this dude not have appropriate bowel movements? Was he not a repetitive part of Jay’s life?

“You know,” he says, then puts his fingers in air quotes, “Caucasian.”

What the hell the guy’s race had to do with his occupation, his ethnicity or the reason it was funny that he had a limp – I have no idea. But I was completely baffled and started to think I was on a date with possibly one of the most ignorant people on the planet.

all-things-regular-x-new-era-59fifty-fitted-baseball-cap_1

Source: http://www.strictlyfitteds.com/blog/2011/02/regularolty-x-new-era%E3%80%8Call-things-regular%E3%80%8D59fifty-fitted-cap-2

And…

Strike 3: He said this: “Any girl that goes on an online dating site is looking to get laid or get married.”

How’s that for class?

Jay offered other gems such as his new pot-smoking strategies at the apartment he just moved into. He also stated that at the time of our date, he actually did not have a job, had no idea if he would ever work again and had no plans to figure out how to go about doing anything. Again, he had some health issues and was understandably shaken, but he had described a real job on his profile, so there was something else he had covered up. He obviously needed more time to work on his marijuana routine, but one would think a paycheck would be required for that sort of thing…

Now I don’t want you to faint from surprise, but I was thinking that this definitely wasn’t the guy for me.

After a wondrous dinner and ride back to my home, I got out of his smokestack – – um — car and quickly said thank you and goodbye. If I hurried inside, I would at least catch the second half of 20/20.

Climbing a Pyramid Scheme

My not-so-extensive romance with Joe began when I saw his very handsome images and grammatically correct descriptions offered in his profile on okcupid. He was full of energy and actually creative in choosing our first date, after we had spoken a few times on the phone. Joe asked me if I ever went indoor rock-climbing. Since I hadn’t, but I always wanted to try it, I agreed and got really excited to meet him at Chelsea Piers so I can seduce him with my burly arm strength.

bicep

Self-portrait
(http://www.musclehack.com/build-big-biceps-with-this-workout/)

Pre-date online searching for Joe helped me to discover that we had a mutual friend. It turns out that he went to high school with someone I work with. I am pretty close to her and inquired about him. She had nothing but good things to say about him. If a real-life person vouches for someone you meet online, the experience not only gets more realistic, but more exciting as well.

Joe had mentioned to me in possibly our second or third conversation that he planned on making his first million dollars by the time he hit 40 years old. He had worked in a few different industries as far as I can recall, and at the time I met him, he was managing a successful restaurant on Long Island. I liked the idea that he had aspirations to make a lot of money and he had about 4 years to become a millionaire – by his calculations. I didn’t know exactly how he planned to start making that large amount of income but figured that would be a good discussion topic when we met in person.

Before we met, Joe called me one evening while he was “on his way home from work.” Knowing his basic restaurant schedule, I knew that it was one of his days off, so I inquired about what “work” he was referring to. Joe then explained that he has an additional job besides the restaurant, where he works with “consumers” in different communities to “help them learn how to shop online.” So he was basically driving from someone’s house in Queens, where he had worked with a group of people to help them understand how retail websites work. That sounds weird, vague and possibly untrue, right? Uh huh. I thought so too and kept asking more questions – thinking that if there was a job where one can teach others how to shop online, I would definitely be a prime candidate. His answers became more elusive, and I eventually dropped the subject. I figured that it was a great thing that he even had one job. Pushing himself to do another? Even better.

The day we met was easily the hottest day of the summer, and from what I remember, one of the hottest days of my life. By the time I made it from the train station to our meeting spot, I wasn’t feeling very fresh or attractive. We spotted each other, and Joe was really handsome in person – even better than his profile – go figure! He was tall and pretty muscular, with very dark hair and blue eyes. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t covered from head to toe with a sweaty film when we greeted one another in the air-conditioned complex. We signed up for our rock-climbing lesson and headed straight to the bar to pass some time.

We had plenty to chat about and got along great. We even exchanged some war stories of past online dating horrors. Then it was time to start climbing. I changed from my soggy work clothes into much more casual, albeit dryer gym clothes for the activity. Once our trainer was assigned, and we had the sexy climbing accessories on, I got really excited and was successful in maybe my first and second round of climbs. After that, my arms were killing me and I essentially did a lot of watching and cheering. I also had a great time checking out some other peoples’ climbing gear and putting chalk on my hands continuously…for no real reason at all.

The most entertaining portion of climbing? By far, it was the way that Joe’s harness fit him. After witnessing this splendor first hand, I still find it fascinating that people don’t make fun of rock climbing harnesses and the way they fit men every second they possibly can. Here’s the closest image that I was able to find to give you an idea of what I was looking at for an hour:

rock climbing package

Credit for photo: http://www.assholeclimbers.com/2012/02/de-emphasizing-your-junk-and-other.html

So I got to stare and create non-stop penis-harness jokes internally and Joe thought he looked manly and controlled while getting an unusual work-out. It was honestly a win-win. And then we went for sushi. Besides the fact that I did not want to change back into my sweaty work clothes and actually went into a restaurant with a first date in gym pants and a sports bra (shiver), the conversation at dinner is when the date may have gone downhill.

I don’t know how dental work become our topic of focus, but Joe ended up showing me his bottom teeth very close-up and telling me how he was getting a full set of dental implants within the year. Unusual to discuss when you first meet someone, but I still thought he was hot. I then asked him how he would be able to become a millionaire when he would be spending some serious cash on a new set of teeth. It was at this point that I was given a speech about the wonder that is Amway. According to Joe, they are the most profitable, successful, magical company on the planet. Without even mentioning the name of the company, and basically speaking about it like it was a cross between a money tree and the mafia, Joe said that “teaching people how to shop” was the key to his millionaire success. And by the way, that success is guaranteed.

Backing up a bit, I have to say that at this point I had not learned too much about Amway but am well aware that it is essentially a national pyramid scheme that brain-washes people into thinking they are individual retail giants when they are simply forcing their friends and families to purchase toilet paper in bulk. Participation requires putting one’s own money into the company as an “investment” that supposedly increases exponentially once you do the work to get it. There are giant books and instructional materials dedicated to their “sales program” and for those who are comfortable in earning an honest dollar, Amway doesn’t tend to be the best way to fill up one’s bank account.

AmwayCassette

A treasured cassette tape created by Amway. Source: http://runawayleg.com/amway-cassette/

So I questioned Joe a few times. I wanted to learn, but his answers were unclear, if not suspect as far as how businesses are run. Up until that topic came up, we were getting along well and I was pretty comfortable around him. Amway turned him into a cult member with dollar signs in his eyes in pure defensive mode. But you know what? I still thought he was attractive and I definitely wanted to see him again.

I never heard from or saw Joe again. After some prying, I was told by our mutual friend that I had insulted “what he did for a living.” Let this be a lesson to anyone reading this: if you want to date someone who plans on being part of a retail cult, never question their methods. You will obviously be seen as the crazy one.

So while Joe continues to “teach” others about “retail business,” I have become more comfortable with the fact that he didn’t like me. Cults and pyramid schemes have never really been my thing.

There’s Always Thumbelina

I was checking out a family friend’s Facebook photos one day and saw one with her and a good-looking guy smiling with their dogs. I knew she had been online dating for a bit so I inquired as to whether the guy in the photo was a new beau. Her eyes lit up. She said, “No, but I did meet him on J-Date! We have no chemistry, but we’ve become friends – you should go out with him!” A cute guy with a good job, who has and loves dogs? The next step was obviously to make the aforementioned family friend swear to me that nothing was overtly wrong with him. Once that was complete, we were in business.

His name was Adam and he gave me a call a few days later. He was great – very personable, and asked what I would like to eat on our upcoming dinner date. We chose a sushi restaurant in an area we could both get to fairly easily.

I was pretty nervous on my way to meet Adam in person. Rather than simply reading about and viewing some two-dimensional images, I had a real-life person vouching for him. I got all spruced up in jeans and a cute pair of boots with a small wedge heel on them. When asked, one of my roommates at the time that my appearance was acceptable, so I left, on my way to meet Adam.

We planned to meet in front of the restaurant which happened to be on the corner of two streets. From several feet away, I saw Adam’s cute face as he waited for me. Yet that cute face was attached to the body of a 10 year old boy. The (now familiar) alarms starting going off in my head, telling me that this guy was very VERY short but all I could do was smile as he turned in my direction and greet him once we were standing in front of one another. I consider myself a (relatively) very short person, which is why it was important to tell you what footwear I was wearing at the time. I specifically recall having to bend down to give Adam a hug. And from that point on, I was traumatized, but had to pretend that everything was fine (again).

Once we sat down, and I realized that Adam somehow didn’t require a highchair, we got along great. Well, that was until I ordered a glass of sake and he stuck with water. “Oh, you don’t drink alcohol?” I asked. He explained that he doesn’t really enjoy drinking, and never has. Obviously, I was wondering how that’s even possible internally, but on the outside, I kept the questions going. I asked if he goes out at all, to socialize, watch games, be around people – you know, perform recreational human activity as I see it – in some way. He said he does once in a while, but doesn’t really enjoy being at bars at all. He elaborated (if you want to call it that) by saying:

“Well I do go to them and I would go with you for a bit. But don’t worry I would be good once we got home.”

danglingfeet-bw

Excuse me? I didn’t understand what the hell he was talking about. He was a smart guy with a logical head on his shoulders until this subject came up. I was pretty sure he was telling me would be a great sex partner after going to a bar and not drinking – and was proud of that fact. All I could think of was munchkin foreplay and I got really disturbed.

I don’t think we hit another awkward topic during dinner after that, and Adam was nice enough to drive me home from the restaurant. Even with an SUV, he didn’t need pedal extensions. I know…I was surprised too.
And that was pretty much it. He was short and a little creepy even as a very sober little person, so I just wasn’t into him.

And I’m almost positive that that is the exact reason why he was very interested in me. I received a voicemail from him a day or two later that specifically said, “give me a call back when you get a chance, or I will call you later.” So I figured that since he said he would possibly call me again, I didn’t need to call him back. I thought that was logical.

Well, I never heard from Adam again but wow – my family friend was not very happy with me. During the next family get-together when I saw her, she demanded to know why I didn’t call him back. I explained my reasoning, and also expressed that I wasn’t really into him.

Her response (exclaimed not only in front of my mother and brother, but her parents and everyone’s small kids):

“YOU KNOW — NOT EVERYTHING IN LIFE IS ABOUT GETTING DRUNK AND SCREWING!!”

No?

Well, someone should have told Adam the second part – and maybe lowered her voice during this absurd exclamation around everyone’s parents. I ended up seeing Adam at the family friend’s wedding about a year later. Yes, he did ignore me, no – he certainly didn’t have a drink… and yes, his date was well over a foot taller than him. Good (albeit, slimy) job Thumbelina!

thumbelina

Cats: Not the Musical

There I was, minding my own business, when I received the following
e-mail from someone on Match.com *. This message has been copied and pasted. It truly pains me to keep the grammatical / spelling errors intact, but I’m doing it for posterity:

Subject: Passion for Animals

Message:

I have a deep passion for animals. I had an upsetting weekend. One of my beloved cats got very sick and has been at the animal hospital since Saturday. He had some kidney problems. He is not out of danger, but at least he is still alert and surviving. I am keeping my pet taxi in my car as a good luck charm with the hope that I can bring him home soon.

Another think positive is if we can make a connection. We have very similar interests. I see that you like going to concerts. I probably have gone to close to 300 concerts over the years. I think that we share some common interests is a good thing.

A few items to note here:

– My profile clearly states that I am fiercely allergic to cats. Sure, they are creatures that many people hold near and dear to their hearts. I get that. I have a few in my backyard that talk to me in the middle of the night. They’re very social. But telling me about feline kidney issues is not a quick way to spur up the romantic chemistry.

– Notice how he mentions “one of” his cats? It means there is more than one. Perhaps a gang of cats? I debated over whether I would include any one of a variety of “pussy” puns here and decided against it.

– I feel bad for this guy for having a sick pet. Of course I do. But why offer such detail to a total stranger?

– “Another think positive is if we can make a connection.” Does anyone understand what that means?? I don’t.

– Where’s the greeting, the introduction, and / or the closing?

I would like to take the opportunity right here to create a response to “RStepper” since this is my safe haven of snark and non-confrontation:

Hi RStepper,

I am so terribly sorry about your cat. You seem like a very caring person who will make someone very happy one day. That someone may be a cat, or a cat-loving human who doesn’t sneeze and develop oozing eyeballs from being around a cat for longer than 5 minutes, such as myself.

I hope your cat is alive and well. Perhaps you can buy him a wig. That will make both of you feel better: http://kittywigs.com/

German man marries his cat.
Photo credit from this illustrious story:
http://perezhilton.com/2010-05-03-german-man-marries-his-cat#.UH1jjm_A-So

* Since I originally starting drafting this post, I have received not one, but two further e-mails from RStepper. In one, he seems to have no memory of writing to me the first time and tells me about charging is phone post-Hurricane Sandy at the Verizon store. And that’s the whole e-mail. In the follow-up, he starts catching an attitude and demands to know why I haven’t responded to him. Sorry folks, RStepper is now officially blocked.

Why are we Holding Hands?

On a beautiful summer afternoon, I was obviously sitting inside, on my couch in the air conditioning, and staring at profiles on my favorite free online dating site. Jay and I started IMing and since he typed in full sentences and didn’t ask me to come over to his house within the hour in a costume (happens all the time), I decided that he was dating material. Jay had his own apartment, a job and looked to be pretty handsome. About 6 feet tall, with wavy dark blond hair and he worked at a music label (yes, I was shocked that some still exist too!) We bantered humorously back and forth via text for the next day or so and made plans to meet at a wine bar that Saturday night.

I had left another bar earlier after watching a friend’s band to make it on time for our date and it turned out that I was early. He picked a cute place. I sat at the bar and sipped my wine waiting for him to walk in, while yet again, trying to look cute and breezy. And then Jay came through the door. I suppose he kind of looked like the person in his photos, but there was something lacking. I honestly feel like online profiles can really mess with one’s head since they are only one-dimensional. This then forces us to create the second and third dimensions in our heads and if our date doesn’t match up to that creation, there might be some severe disappointment and lack of chemistry.

So there was zero attraction to the in-person Jay. Nothing blatantly wrong with his appearance but it just wasn’t there. But hey, he was friendly enough and we were at a bar, so I had no problem getting to know someone over a glass of wine or two. The topics of conversation ranged from how Jay’s 19-year-old cousin was crashing at his apartment to how Jay liked to keep mixed nuts in his freezer and randomly snack on them. No, neither of these topics or anything else we discussed made him any more attractive, nor did the film of sweat that was easing its way across his forehead and heading down the rest of his face. He swabbed his brow with some napkins, but the sweat wasn’t stopping. The moisture was that of someone’s perspiration in the midst of a heavy work-out, but alas, he was merely sitting at a bar.

Jay at the bar.

After about an hour and approximately 4 not-so-absorbent cocktail napkins later, I made my move to leave. I was staying at a friend’s empty apartment for the night, which was a few blocks away. Jay offered to walk me there, which I thought was nice and polite, until I felt a giant clammy hand reach out and take mine as we walked down the street. I nervously glanced to my side while Jay kept the conversation going, and I kept wondering what made him think that this was an occasion for hand-holding. Yet, I didn’t pull away.

About two blocks away from my destination, while we were in the midst of discussing something very intense (most likely mothballs or the whittling industry or something) the giant cold cut-like hand pushed me over to the door of a CVS pharmacy. And suddenly, there was a tongue in my mouth for a few seconds. Astonished, and wondering how the cold cuts got from my hand to my mouth, I pulled away and said the only logical statement I could muster: “Thank you.”

CVS / Lover’s Paradise

I was sufficiently grossed-out, if not now terrified that Jay thought we were having a romantic experience. I kept him chatting about music for the rest of the walk to my friend’s apartment, and when I announced that we were there, he seemed to lean in for another tongue lash, or even worse: an invitation upstairs. I giggled like a 5 year old school girl while he stared at me. I figured a kiss on the cheek and a “Thanks, talk to you soon!” declaration into the smoke that billowed behind me as I ran into the building would politely hint that I was not interested.

Once I got into the apartment, I took to scrubbing and sanitizing my hands and mouth as much as possible. As I started a text to my friend, asking how much white wine of hers that she would allow me to drink to kill the creepy boy germs and my memory of our experience together, an incoming message popped up:

“Now you know I’m a good kisser.”

I do?

Needless to say, Jay was another (incredibly creepy) frog in my quest to find a prince.

Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Roger and the Clichés!

So I have a profile on a free dating site. While you may think that placing my photos and bio into an unrestricted pool of insanity and misplaced ego is ridiculous, then… well, you are right. However, there are some relatively normal folks on this site that haven’t accosted me with a chainsaw just yet.

I got a message from Roger the other day, which inspired me to visit his online profile. Both of these wonderful pieces of writing deserve to be displayed and critically analyzed for obvious reasons. So let’s do just that:

[THE PROFILE, ABRIDGED]

Self-Summary

Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and turn around sometimes, you might miss it.(1) We get one chance at this life thing and really my intention is to make the most of it. I’ve been truly blessed to have had the ability to retire from one job at young age and now have the ability to smell the roses (2) before I embark on the next career. My glass is half full (3) and I intend on taking full advantage of the gifts that I have. No one knows when that taxi cab is going to jump the curb and take us out (4). So I try to live each day like it is my last, though responsibly.

What I’m doing with my life

I just finished one career and now I’m taking my stab (5) as a building manager and aspiring writer (6).

I’m really good at

Making someone laugh (7). I have a dry wit about me. I like making someone feel like the most important person in the room.

I spend a lot of time thinking about

How full my cup is (8) and the road that I’ve traveled to get here. Life has been a journey(9) and being at the point I’m at now makes me appreciate where I’ve been.

(1) First of all, there is one and will only ever be ONLY ONE Ferris Bueller. You don’t get to quote one of the greatest movie characters of all time, and make it the first sentence about you. If you are that much of a tool, the correct way of stealing someone else’s quote is by inserting “quotation marks” around it!

(2) Uh, “smell the roses”? I think of an 85 year old woman and a bathroom when I hear that.

(3) Half full of what? Stolen quotations?

(4) What taxi cab? Where is it taking us? What the hell are you talking about?!?

(5) “my stab” – which would be different from “his” or “her” stab. Any of those pronouns would still make the “stab” sound just as cryptic as the taxi murder reference.

(6) I think you mean “reaching for the stars.” And you’re really good at creating written content thus far. Thumbs up!

(7) Nothing he has written is purposely amusing in any way. And by the by, when someone says they will make you laugh, that typically means they will stare at you uncomfortably each time they make a corny remark about nothing you care about.

(8) Is the “cup” a euphemism for something?

[THE E-MAIL, UNABRIDGED]

“Hey there,
I’m Roger. I’m a New York native that recently moved back and am loving re-acquainting myself to NYC. I’m in a great place in my life and am just looking for someone to share my half full glass with, though I’m not in a rush to get there. I’d love to talk to you sometime if you are game.
Roger”

Grammatical errors and the obvious fact that this is a canned, generic e-mail that was most likely sent to a list of people aside, there’s nothing inherently wrong with it. However, there is absolutely no excuse for the superfluous platitude. All I really know about him is that he feels lucky and extremely positive about something – but I have no idea what that is.

You may say that I can always respond to him to find out more. And then I would tell you that in his pictures, he’s wearing a giant set of rhinestones in his ears.

Simple equation I often have to repeat:
Hideous jewelry + excessive use of clichés = all bets are off.

And we move on…

One Hour of Passion

Matt had the sarcastic charm that I typically giggle at in his J-Date profile. He had light hair, blue eyes, a smile with a child-like quality and was totally unapologetic about liking reality TV shows. He spoke my language so I gave it a whirl. After about two e-mails in one day, I handed over my digits and Matt called me later that evening:

Me: “Hello?”

Matt: “Hey, it’s Matt.”

Me: “Oh hi. How are you?”

Matt: “Good. Okay, I won’t waste either of our time by having a long phone conversation. Are you free this Thursday after work?”

Me: “Tee hee… Um, yep, I think so.”

Matt: “Okay want to meet at Flanagan’s* on 7th at like 6 – 6:30? I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

I dug Matt’s style. It really is logical. Why waste time going back and forth online or on the phone before meeting in person and knowing if there is any chemistry or not? I added “not beating around the bush” to my mental list of Matt’s attributes.

On Thursday evening, I sat at the bar sipping a drink while waiting for my charming, blue-eyed dreamboat to walk into the bar and sweep me off my feet. Every few seconds, I would glance at the door waiting for him to walk in, quickly looking down at my phone again, to make sure I kept up my breezy appearance. And then a crouched dude with a comb-over in a grass green polo shirt and khakis who looked generally annoyed at life walked in. I couldn’t help but stare at him obviously. I was once again mystified by online profile photos. Sure, the images of Matt I had checked out could have translated into a confident and good-looking guy with a good vibe. But in this case, the real-life Matt was a bitter, hollowed version of his photographs. I suppose his face was the same, but angrier-looking, and surrounded by a lot less hair. We exchanged greetings and got a table toward the front of the bar.

I am not the world’s best conversationalist by any means, but I can certainly hold my own and keep things interesting with the general population, and I have never had a problem on dates. Without even thinking of any sort of meaning behind it, I asked Matt how work was. You know, since most of us spend a large portion of our lives earning our keep, and we had both just come from our offices, that topic just came naturally.

Matt: “Oh, I’m not talking about work. I was there all day, and now I’m not.”

Amused by the angry leprechaun, I asked him what he would like to talk about.

With a deadpan look on his face and the several dozen hairs he had left glistening with gel sweeping over his head, Matt said he wanted to discuss “our passions.” So I flipped the dialogue back in his court and asked him what he is passionate about.

Matt: “Reality TV shows!”

Again, I thought he was kidding, but his diatribe about people being crazy enough to go on television with their eccentricities proved that this was a topic he was certainly zealous about. He went on for a few minutes about some of his favorite shows and though I tried to chime in a few times, I couldn’t keep up.

The ongoing serious look on his face caused me to look elsewhere, and while I didn’t even notice that I kept glancing away from Matt, he declared that I had horrible eye contact, which just made me more paranoid. About 15 minutes into this date, I assumed that I was sitting with a gay guy who had an unhealthy obsession with “Survivor.” What’s worse is that I realized that I couldn’t even be friends with him because he seemed to not have a friendly bone in his body.

At some point, Matt decided to switch topics. Rest assured, he was still focused on being passionate about nothing and indirectly insulting me.

Matt: “So, you’re alone in a room that is 12 feet by 12 feet. You have an old ladder, no light source, a horse and a small window with bars over it. How do you find a meal?”

Ah yes, the ol’ psychological study performed by those who like to find strangers online, pretend they are looking for heterosexual companionship and truly know how to get to hold eye contact throughout a romantic conversation. Whatever my answer to Matt’s hypothetical situation was, he wasn’t satisfied with it and told me that a psychologist would say I am insecure, negative and basically sucked at life.

So, no, there certainly wasn’t a love connection with Matt. The only sign of human warmth he demonstrated during that evening was that he walked me to the train station. And that was only because his train would be stopping at the same station.

I often wonder if Matt ever found the masochist who is able to look him in the eye and discuss episodes of “The Real World” for hours. That is one lucky man.

*For the life of me, I can’t think of the name of the place. It’s a dive bar – that’s all you need to know anyway. Nosey-pants!

Carlo and the Pussy Cat

From the second I saw him standing in the middle of the sidewalk turning in every direction, looking as though he was begging to get accosted, I knew it wasn’t going to work out. I was on the phone with my mother as I stood a few feet away explaining my discontent in his proverbial lack of height and masculinity that he accentuated in his profile pictures on match.com. “Oh stop whining and give the guy a chance,” Mom said, and hung up.

I approached Carlo and we made our awkward introductions. Away we went to a small café he knew of a few blocks away. It was a really nice place with a good menu and a pretty quiet atmosphere. Once we sat down and had a drink, I remembered that I did like the way he carried on a conversation, how open and comfortable he was. Well, perhaps he was a little too comfortable. Since it was an Italian café, most of the staff seemed to be from Italy, and our waiter spoke in broken English. I had ordered the buffalo mozzarella salad, and offered Carlo some of it. Behind his glasses, I saw his eyes open up really wide and before I knew it, he screamed on the top of his lungs, “MY COMPLIMENTS TO THE BUFFALO!!!” across the room. I guess he really liked it. While I turned bright red from embarrassment and the Italian waiters all looked at each other trying to figure out what happened, Carlo went back to his own plate.

So at this point I knew he was a little animated and random. That’s not the end of the world. We soon started discussing past relationships. Yep – one of the topics you’re never supposed to talk about on a first date. That’s how we rolled. It started getting interesting when Carlo mentioned a few details about his most recent relationship. He proceeded to tell me that his last girlfriend, that he dated for over two years, was divorced, a mother of 3 and was 42 years old. Carlo and I were about 25 at the time, so I was very curious about his long relationship with a woman nearly two decades his senior. As it turned out, the woman was not too mentally stable and Carlo spent much of his time in the relationship trying to make her happy. I started comparing this ex-girlfriend in my young and naïve head to myself and was baffled. I couldn’t even begin to understand how someone would be interested in a mother of 3 and then want to date a child such as myself. We talked a little bit more about it and with no real cause, Carlos declared that his ex was the “GREATEST, STRONGEST WOMAN [HE HAD] EVER KNOWN!” There were tears in his eyes, and he was using the same volume in his voice that he used for his buffalo outburst, but this was a lot more … um…emotional.

So with the nonsensical screams in the café out of the way, Carlo then asked if I wanted to walk around a little bit and maybe get a drink before parting. I figured there was no danger in that, but once again, I was wrong. During our stroll, we were chatting like friends and trading sarcastic comments back and forth so when we were about to pass a store called the Pink Pussy Cat, Carlo thought it was a good idea to go in. I guess I didn’t want to look like a prude and probably thought it would provide some good laughs. The problem I had was that we ended up looking like an established couple to the Pink Pussy Cat employee. And Carlo was more than happy to comply with that assumption. She ended up showing us some “devices” that were kept behind lock and key and while I must admit, she definitely knew her stuff, I wanted to die. After the word “stimulation” was mentioned to us for the third time in a 2 minute period, I was ready to go. And Carlo wanted to know why I was so uncomfortable.

Carlo really was (probably still is) a very nice guy. I hope he found someone who can keep up with his free spirit and extreme volume.