Should have ordered the soup. . .

Note to self: Only order food that people in a retirement home could easily chew and swallow during awkward internet dating adventures.

I am not sure why this has been happening to me lately, but I have yet another pre-pubescent admirer with confidence well beyond his age.  There is this kid in my mass media course that has managed to weave his way through a labyrinth of seating the last couples classes to sit right next to me.  A jovial sort of fella with bad skin and a twinkle in his eye.  He calls me by my name which I am unsure of how he has even remembered.  I would venture to guess that he is 19, 20 at the most.  Today he boldly asked me if I would like to join him for a cup of coffee as he followed me out of class to graciously walk me to my next.  I tried desperately to think of the  most unattractive things I could possibly say or do to rid myself of this pest.  I could tell him, “Sorry, I have an appointment with a specialist for this strange rash” or “I don’t think that would be a good idea, I’m still contagious”.  Instead I blurted out, “I can’t because I’m a Mom!!!”.  What the heck is that supposed to mean?  What I meant was, “Son, I have a child and I’m 10 years older than you.  There is nothing that you have that could possibly keep me captivated let alone ignite my sensuality”.  I did manage to come up with an excuse as to why coffee was a no-go.  He understood…then promptly asked me what day would work better for me.  *sigh* Good grief.

Okay, so regarding the first post. . .allow me to lay the background info.  A Gentleman we will label exhibit “X” (X = Currently eXcommunicated), contacted me via online dating profile. I was immediately drawn to the clever and witty writing style he flaunted in his introductory email.  I checked out his profile and was pleased to learn that he was a Dad.  He too has a son nearly the same age as mine.  So the conversations commenced.  Now, it’s hard to say what a person really looks like when all you’ve seen are pictures they have posted to a profile that are no doubt meant to capitalize on their best qualities.  You know what I mean, those pics of people on Facebook or Myspace, shot at an angle where you can only see one eye-ball in every shot. . .because they only have one eye-ball.  Or maybe you notice the high-grain sepia tone pictures of women who wish to off-set their troublesome and embarrassing facial hair. . .or worse, skin tags.  Need I go on?   Truth be told, this Gent didn’t fair too poorly after my obsessive critique of pictures he had posted.  He appeared to be a natural type, maybe borderline granola.  Thick head of hair, fashion glasses, monochromatic colour schemes, I think I saw a Nalgene bottle in one shot, etc.  Plus, a couple of his pictures were kind of artsy – bonus!  My one hesitation was that he was only 5″7 according to his profile.  This happens to be my height.  I was really hoping for someone that could be the dominant spooner, you know?  Whatever – I decided it wasn’t a deal breaker banking on other redeeming qualities.

We chatted on the phone a couple times after the luster of introductory emails wore off.  I was slightly hesitant after the phone calls only because he spent a lot of time talking to me about a demon woman he called his ex.  I chalked it up nervousness.  After all, I do fancy myself a maneater.  I’d be scared too.  Alas, the time had come to take our 8 day relationship to the next level.  We needed to meet in person.  I chose the spot to make it comfortable. . .for me at least.  This is when things get interesting. . .

I arrive at the sushi spot I chose which incidentally is famous for their hamburgers – whatever.  As I enter the restaurant my eyes begin to scan the room looking for someone at my eye-level, someone with a thick head of hair, exuding all things organic.  Funny, I didn’t see anyone that fit that criteria.  I did another 360 just to make sure that I hadn’t missed anyone.  Then, in my peripheral, I noticed a cheesing grin attached to the face of someone quite small.  I allowed my eyes to focus in on the individual for a once over – the cheesiness of the grin certainly warranted it.  As I made contact with the cheesy grinned man, his eyes lit up and he enthusiastically proclaimed, “Hey it’s you!”  “Well yes, and who pray tell are you?”, I thought.  Then I realized what had happened, the terror began to flood my consciousness as the blood drained out of my face.  This was to be my date.  The only thing I could think to do in that moment in order to shake off the obvious look of disappointment, was to immediately excuse myself to the bathroom.  Bathroom moment consisted of an intrapersonal pep talk convincing myself that everything was going to be okay. . .

I returned to our table and shook exhibit X’s hand.  It’s no wonder that I did not notice this man when I arrived.  He was like, 5 feet tall.  Lying to get a date: -2 points.  In a moment of empathy towards the hardships of being a cheesy short man in the dating world, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.  We made small talk and when our waiter came to take our order, he of course chose the famous burger and I went with the Chicken sandwich.  It should be known that I am typically a Vegetarian.  However, I was on the tail end of my holiday vegetarianism hiatus.  Oh – this was truly to be a “foul” experience.  Somehow the conversation settled on work – how obvious.  I endured 20 minutes of him explaining to me the hardships of having a Prima Donna baby Momma that all his money goes to, -2 points.  Then he proceeded to tell me about how his son, whom he loves and adores, is highly skilled at identifying the differences in the breasts sizes of women, – 10 points.  Moreover, that at the ripe age of 3 he regularly makes passes at women with breasts he deems noteworthy, – 25 points and a puke bucket.

He did most of the talking so I settled into that place in my head where I listened but didn’t really listen, you know?  Then, all of a sudden, my chicken sandwich had lodged itself in my throat.  Was it really stuck, like choke-style stuck?  OMG IT WAS!  Being the proud dignified type I panicked only internally.  And so quietly and carefully, still maintaining poise and gestured acknowledgment of his speech, I systematically began to dislodge the chicken from my throat through a series of esophagul-flexations and palpitating breaths all the while thinking to myself, “This date has caused me to choke”.  Fortunately I successfully managed to save my own life.   Had these techniques not worked I did locate the perfect chair for self-administered Heimlich.  Things were going great. . .

After we finished our food he briefly excused himself to the restroom.  Before I move into this horrifying description, please don’t judge me.  I don’t believe I am as superficial as all of this is coming off.  But seriously, one must have standards and preferences.  That which she deems to be in the range of acceptable.  Anyhow, as he rose from his chair to display all the 5 footedness of his stature, I noticed something.  I should have noticed this at our salutation but I believe the initial shock had momentarily numbed my senses.  What I saw was a crime against people, babies, puppies, homelessness, and good taste.  This man was proudly sporting a pleather biker-style jacket.  Like circa 1998 boy band style only not of the same quality, -1000 points.  Did I mention that it was pleather?  Pleather is not within the range of acceptable.  He swiftly turned to nancy down the hall in his nervousness only to reveal his final offenses of the afternoon: pleated style jeans and worse for wear black sport sneakers – there are not enough points in the world.  Guys, it doesn’t really get anymore offensive than this.  It was in that moment that the fullness of my mortification was realized.  Please dear God, someone bring the check.

Be relieved that I did pay my own tab.  I’m not that lame.  We left the restaurant and headed down the street in the direction of our cars.  He asked if we should hang out again.  I told him to give me a call sometime.  This was easier than telling him, “no BECAUSE YOU LIED TO ME, YOUR SON IS A PERVERT, AND YOU LOOK LIKE YOU CAME OFF THE CARNIVAL CARIVAN!”.  He pulled out some gum and offered me a piece – yeah, I took some of his gum, +2 points.  We went our separate ways and I drove home to take a hot shower curled in the fetal position.  Overall date rating, -1039 points.  I don’t see this going anywhere.

Needless to say, he did call…and text…and call again.  I like the silencing option on my cell phone.  And next time, I think I’ll order the soup.

Advertisements

7 comments

  1. Sheena

    I love reading about your crazy adventures…I literally sat in the living room reading this and could not stop laughing. I wasn’t laughing at you, but definitely at the situation. Can’t wait to hear more (I look forward to it actually)! Much Love from Josh and I.

    Like

  2. Michele

    I wish I could say that I have never been there, but I would be lying……….and it SUCKS!!! I think you handled yourself VERY well and I don’t think we are shallow. I think that there is either a natural attraction or there isn’t, and we all have our initial standards. I do think/know that sometimes personality CAN change these initial perceptions and surprise us, but at this level, where deceit has entered into the picture, then I say go with your gut and I would have (and I HAVE) done exactly what you did! Did I mention that dating as an adult sucks too?!! ❤ u!

    Like

  3. Aunt Jen

    Moni, I am gonna have to ask you to restore a few points to this guy – precisely 2 – because I assure you that in no way did he lie about anything. He looked in the mirror and he described what he saw, pure and simple. trust me on this lol

    thank you for sharing, brilliant and evocative

    Like

  4. Lonni

    oh hell to the no. I would have died from embarassment but you TRIED and these things take time, right? er, yeah, right. KEEP ON keepin’ on. Anyhoo, men judge us almost entirely on our appearance as they are wired that way and we are wired to run like hell when they wear pleats and pleather. the height thing doesn’t help. AND mad doggin’ an ex is always a sign to RUN AND DO NOT LOOK BACK. the adventure continues!!!!

    Like

  5. Emily Rose

    oh the pleated jeans would have put me over the edge for sure! can i take his 1030 points and add them to your already out of this world number of points please? k, thanks!

    Like

  6. Pingback: A Good Friday. « NOTE TO SELF. . .

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s