Sunday, April 26, 2009

Date 29: Simply Fon-don't

All I can say is wow... with the exception of the few things I have planned in the next couple weeks, after this one, I need a break.

Simply Fon-Don't was perfect on the phone. His emails were witty. He was my type.

Nerdy. Smart. Dark hair. Pale skin. Tall. Did I mention nerdy?

We met at Simply Fondue in Sundance Square. When he came down the stairs my heart skipped a beat. I was smitten. The wait was just a few minutes and we were whisked off to the table.

The menu was overwhelming and I could feel my food issues boiling to the surface. I shook it off though, because this guy was dating gold.

Conversation was comfortable. The restaurant was lovely. My phone was vibrating. *Ignore*

The obligatory, what does he look like/are you okay/should I call the cops texts were streaming in. No big deal. He looked like someone I could totally get horizontal with which made me more than okay and there is no reason to call the cops... the fire department? Perhaps. This date could get hot.

He tells me he works in a secluded basement type room with no windows, no cell phone service, no outsiders. No big deal.

He tells me he doesn't really like working with other people. Okay, he enjoys going solo sometimes. Fine.

He tells me he doesn't actually enjoy working out. He just does it so he doesn't gain as much weight. Well...

He tells me he doesn't get to work at any particular time because he likes to sleep in and sometimes he gets up midweek after 10am. Free spirit. Loves the night life. Ummm...

He eats his food. And then mine. And then asks the waitress for more of some things. And suddenly I feel like he is eating my soul one fried piece at a time. I get tunnel vision and all I see is chewing. Dipping. Sizzling fried pieces of meat. Stabbing another morsel of uncooked food. Dipping. Sizzling. Chewing.

I actually feel like I might pass out. It's hard to explain. Here was this smart, witty, attractive man and I wanted to melt into the floor and disappear forever. I could have worked with the anti social man lacking in a schedule, but the eating, that I just couldn't do.

The problem with this date was definitely me. Thus the break. I need it. I've done well maintaining emotional distance from this whole mess until now. This evening, however, has resulted in tears.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Date 28: 22, Lives at Home

In an effort to expand the demographics represented here, I went out with a 22 year old golf cart salesman who lives at home in a converted garage apartment. While I was overwhelmingly flattered with his "I love older women"-"amazing body"-"know what you're doing"-"eat fresh fruit and cream in bed"-"go out of my way to make satisfy you" brand of conversation and impressed by his young 6'4" frame, he lives at home... and he's 22.

Saturday, April 04, 2009

Date 27: I Already Knew Him But Needed eHarmony to Tell Me We Should Go Out

Brunch in Uptown with the Greek Goddess, the Cruise Director, Montana, the Triathlete, and Lunchtime Sex needed some spicing up. But still... what was I thinking. Infectious Disease had asked if he could join us to meet some new people. I didn't want him to be the only guy (or the only guy I had awkward history with) so I invited Bus Trip.

On the drive to Uptown my phone started ringing. One at a time all the ladies bailed.

Dear Jesus, please don't leave me at brunch in Uptown with two men that I have had uncomfortable moments with. Really, Lord. Do I deserve this for brunch? Me, me, me, me, me. Oh- and keep my friends (the ones that ditched me and left me in this predictament) safe. Amen.

Another text. Infectious disease was out as well. Apparently I "got him sick." Whatever.

So Bus Trip and I have brunch. Just the two of us. He asks if I did this on purpose. No, it was all Jesus.

So the eharmony thing... There is no shame in eharmony. The commercial tells me that this could be an everlasting love. The problem with being on eharmony and being part of some major social networking groups though... bumping into people online that you know in real life (not just Bus Trip, but the guy that was student council president my freshman year of high school, 3 people from the junior chamber of commerce, 4 of my former hockey customers, 1 coworker at my new job, and 2 people that have pictures with their best friends on their profiles letting me know that I was matched with best friends).

Then he mentions that this could be an eharmony date. He knows about the blog. No big deal. He gets high scores. After brunch he took me on a ride on the trolly.

Shame on you! It was an actual trolly. We chatted with other people on the trolly. We sat closer than necessary to each other. We made plans to hang out more often.

Is it likely that anything will come of this? No, I'm pretty sure Bus Trip has been over me since... well... the Bus Trip. And that was in the Spring of 2008. Practically a lifetime ago.

Friday, April 03, 2009

Date 1.Shoot Me in the Face: No Really, Somebody Shoot Me in the Face

Today's plan:
1. Workout
2. Work
3. Watch hockey
4. Possibly play tonsil hockey

But you know what they say... the best laid plans...

So I wake up late. Not so late that I feel like a disgusting sloth, just late enough to miss my workout. No big deal.

I go to work, get a lot done, like abruptly remapping my career path in a thought-I-was-going-to-Portland-Oregon-drive-for-26-hours-oops-I-was-supposed-to-go-to-Portland-Maine sort of way. Again. No big deal. Just a few tears. Every second. As I drive to pick up Link. Looking all blotchy. And running late. Again. Whatever.

Link and I meet Montana and McDeidle at the arena a little late. Things are okay now. Going to go ahead and scratch number 4 off the list. No point in messing up my streak of not quite getting things right today.

Fast forward to the part you actually care about... the shoot me in the face part. I get hammered. Absolutely, embarrassingly, everybody looks good, eyes only half open hammered.

Back at Link's place I consider napping on the couch. We start to talk. I have no filter. Clearly he is not too bothered by this since he doesn't stop me. I mention that I should go. He says I should stay there, clearly I ought not drive. I say i don't want to sleep on the couch. He offers his bed, with him in it. I say he's all talk. He agrees. I ask him why. He says he only hooks up with girls he doesn't really like. I get confused and scan the room for a calendar from 1998 and college tshirt. He explains further that he hooks up with girls and then casts them aside. I give him stink eye and much more sober than I had felt mere moments before ask what that's about. He tells me of his plan for the future and how certain things are guarded. Apparently not everything. No, but he doesn't say, "I love you." Right on, me neither, I think it's oogy and sure fire way to cause a relationship meltdown...

The year was 1997. There was a man sitting on my bed in my very girly room in the dark... crying. I tried to say the right thing. Not my strong suit. He was still crying. Have you ever seen a man cry? Talk about uncomfortable. Try again. Nope, no dice. "I love you... ?" the crying stopped. My motivation was completely misplaced. And thus was born my aversion to the term.

But Link... oh no. His problems are bigger than the crying man. the conversation is a fuzzy mess after that. Perhaps Montana will chip in and remind me how it ended since I called her on my drive home. Regardless, wow. I brought this on myself 100%. Why didn't someone stop me weeks ago. Feel free to tell me next time you see crazy coming my way. If you warn me and I don't react, make like it's a bus and someone please push me out of the way.