Thanks to everyone for reading my two recent blog posts chronicling dating disasters over the years. I was shocked over 350 people from as far away as Malawi, Mongolia and Chile read my posts about these dinks. So by popular demand, I will post one more true story about an awful date I went on…
He was a Jewish corporate lawyer I met on eHarmony. His pictures were cute. He was devout in his faith, well-educated, well-traveled, close to his family, a great conversationalist and was funny as hell. We lived in different states, so we were relegated to long phone calls and MANY text messages. I loved the giddy feeling I got when I checked my phone and a message from him was waiting for me.
But he was a lawyer and I was a teacher. We worked long hours and it was hard to pin down a time to meet. I got a horrible blow when my best friend from high school died unexpectedly and I went home for the funeral. I thought I would take advantage of the geographic proximity and meet him. He lived in a city an hour from where my parents live, so we could pull this off. Right?
The first red flag was that, even though I drove four hours to get back to my home state, he couldn’t drive the one measly hour to meet me. I had to go to HIS town. Not knowing his town well enough, I told him to name a place to meet. Even though I specifically said to pick somewhere special, he picked a Starbucks. Really?!!? On top of that, I had no idea where it was. The Lord gave me many gifts, but a sense of direction is not one of them, sadly enough…
I got hopelessly lost and I called him, very frustrated as hell. I tried to tell him where I was and he kept saying, “Drive north until you get to X Street, then turn east…” I’m sorry, but I am directionally challenged. Telling me to turn ANY cardinal direction ANYWHERE is like asking me to recite a Japanese phone book from memory—I just can’t do it! I finally gave up and said, “I am at Perkins. If you want to meet me there, fine.” I’d driven hours to meet him, got hopelessly lost and just picked the closest landmark. The very fucking least he could do was meet me where I was. Idiot.
He finally got to Perkins and I could not have been more disappointed. First of all, he was way overdressed in black button-down shirt, black slacks…it was a very warm June afternoon. I was in a sleeveless shirt and crops and he looked like he was going to temple. Also, he was FAT and BALD. I don’t care if people are fat and bald, but I go through the trouble of taking new pics every few months. This dude had not updated his photos since the nineties. I was dismayed.
I tried to hide my chagrin and we talked easily for about an hour when his cell rang. He saw who called and apologized to me. “Sorry, I have to take this.” (Picks up phone.) “Hey, Mom! What’s up?”
What. The. HELL!?!?! Who the flip takes calls from their mother on a first date?!?
I could see he was going to be a while. I went to the restroom, wandered around the restaurant, sat back down, played on my phone…he was on the phone with his mother for 30 MINUTES!!!
He hung up and gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I hadn’t talked to her in a while.”
I raised my eyebrow. “When was the last time you talked to her?”
I smiled sweetly. “That’s okay. I only drove five hours to see you.”
I think he got it. We talked for a few minutes; he paid the bill and gave me a hug goodbye. He texted a few times over the next week but I didn’t bother to answer back.
Maybe I am too insistent on good manners, but I put a lot of stock on how dates treat me. If they are rude or negligent on the little things in the beginning, that tells me I can’t trust them with bigger things—namely, my heart. Am I being too picky? I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a date to not play Sudoku while I talk to him, tell me what my IQ is or talk to his mama when I drove so long to see him. It seems common sense to me, but clearly not to them.
Oh, well. On to greener pastures! Just don’t take a call from yo’ mama when on a date with me!