Eharmony-2 was nice but not dazzling. I met the crawfish-farmer downtown where he worked. I call him the crawfish-farmer because he attended a crawfish boil over the 4th of July and was raised on a dairy farm.
"He's a boob man," said my friend Jay while I was at a happy hour on Thursday with him, my friend Amber, and his partner Brian.
"What?" I asked. "Because of the udders?"
"Yep," he said. "It's just programmed. He can't help it."
"Well," I replied, laughing. "He's probably going to be disappointed then."
Disregarding the ominous premonition, I spent an hour or so getting ready for the date. I showered and primped, straightened my hair, and put on a cute orange v-neck dress (over my A-cup boobs), the turquoise-stone-and silver necklace my mother had bought me while on a cruise, and some cute peep-toe snakeskin heels I bought for ten bucks at Marshalls. I arrived 15 minutes early. Parked in a ramp. Bought my first beer. And after he arrived chatted for a couple hours while he drank three black-and-tans and bought me a Finnegans. I graciously thanked him for the beer and he said sure, it was fair. I had driven to meet him and parked, and so it made sense.
As it turned out, the crawfish-farmer was interesting and in fact, the nephew of one of my mother's best friends.
"Did she go to the wedding in San Antonio?" he asked about my mom, referring to his aunt's son's wedding.
"Yes," I said. "In fact, she did."
"Oh yeah," he said. "I heard the whole story, how [my aunt] moved back and was reacquainted with her high school friends. I saw some old ladies dancing at the reception and everyone was wondering who they were."
It was not a good sign that he called my mother an old lady, especially when I love the fact that she, at 60, still loves to dance, but the fact that he actually said the word boobs twice in our two hours and looked at mine about four or five times, made me think he might not be the man I next want to marry.
Oh well. It wasn't too bad. He was interesting and fun to talk to other than that.
The next date seemed more promising. Eharmony 3 was a man who loved traveling and working out and spending time with friends. He suggested we meet for brunch on Saturday, and I was optimistic that perhaps it was because he realized from my profile that brunch was one of my favorite hobbies.
I spent an hour or so getting ready. Showered and primped, straightened my hair, and put on a short denim sun dress and a pair of silver, low-wedge sandals. I walked three blocks to the restaurant where we were meeting and grabbed a spot on the roof.
"Running late," he said in a text. "Traffic on 94 sucks."
I didn't worry. I looked at menu and asked for a water.
A group of people arrived and sat at the table near me. An adorable blond man with thick muscles, short blond hair, and pointy teeth turned to me, "You look lonely," he said. "Why don't you come join us?"
"Oh, I'm meeting someone," I smiled.
"Well, we have two chairs," said his friend, fair-skinned and cute, with a mop of tousled brown hair and just a few freckles on his nose.
"Are you meeting a guy or a girl?" asked the first guy. And he scoffed when I admitted I was meeting a guy.
I laughed and we chatted. They were from Oklahoma. I asked how they were enjoying the city of Minneapolis and they told me they were scared of the sushi and going to a concert.
"At a church!" said Oklahoma #1.
"The Basilica Block Party?" I asked. "Fun! I wish I was going."
"Look," said OK#1 a few minutes later, "I think you should just come join us. Obviously, this guy isn't any sort of a gentleman if he's late."
"Oh," I excused my date, "he's coming. He's been texting me the whole time."
And eharmony-3 did show up. He was 20 minutes late. He was also hungover. He joined me in ordering a $8-bloody mary, but he said he wasn't going to eat. He had already eaten at the hotel this morning.
I nibbled my chilaquiles, feeling silly eating in front of him alone, and we talked. He told me, from behind his Ray Ban sunglasses, about his job, how enjoyed banking and "working with the scum of the earth" by arranging the loans used by car dealerships. Then he talked about how he'd love to have a house on Lake of the Isles or Lake Harriet, adding that he had always thought about getting a cabin but figured the upkeep made it a poor investment.
The check came and after a few minutes I pulled out my wallet. "Well, here," he said. "Let me put this towards it." And he pulled a ten-spot out of his Coach wallet.
"Put the ten towards the bill and the rest on the card," he said, handing the waitress the check.
"Did she just take the bill?" asked a woman at the table near us when the waitress returned and put the check on the table.
The whole table was silent as I picked up the tab and signed my name. OK #2 turned to me and looked me straight in the eye from under his messy brown hair. I blushed and looked down as I signed my name.
I knew what he meant.
I walked away from the date feeling irritated. I had put my best foot forward and he had bombed. I decided in that moment I could never marry a man who didn't buy the first drink. Really how much does a man have to give if he can't make a bit more effort, show up on time, and buy a lady one drink. Eharmony 3 had said in his profile that he didn't want a woman who wanted to be taken care of, but to me this didn't exclude common courtesy. Especially if he picked the place and the time and talked status and pulled bills out of a designer label wallet. At least toss in a $20, even if you don't want to buy the meal. I started to think chivalry was dead. Men didn't care. But the good news was neither did I. Sure that man doesn't want to take care of a woman, but the truth is I don't need him to do so. I'm not looking for a man to pay my way; I'm looking for a partner who is considerate and kind, like I would be to him. What did I need with this guy? Why should I bother to impress him or hope he would call again?
He did call, or at least text, telling me it was nice to meet me and to let him know if I was "out and about" next week. I said that sounded good, but secretly realized I would not be letting him know if I "was out and about."
I wore the date dress out later that Saturday night. I decided I needed to erase the stench of the bad date from its fabric. I added silver heels, my silver bracelet, and new flower ring to my outfit and took it out to my favorite local spot to celebrate my favorite local bartender's two-year anniversary.
One drink turned into several more and before I knew it I was sitting with three other regulars, my friend Amber, and three cooks from the restaurant in an apartment nearby, waiting for our favorite bartender to show up and playing dominoes. I was sitting next to a man I have been thinking was cute for the last two years, and he had just admitted he had always had a little bit of a crush on me.
I tried to play dominoes and he tried to play footsie. I ended up being much better at footsie than dominoes and he ended up coming home with me.
The next day this blue-eyed construction worker surprised me by making the bed and cuddling and holding my hand and telling me he liked the pictures in my apartment and smiling a lot and texting me later in the day to wish me luck in my soccer game, after I drove him home around 2 p.m.
Earlier, I lay curled up in arms that morning and the what-ifs and oh-dears started running through my head. I was surprised by the events, not unpleasantly, but worried. What would happen next? What was I supposed to do? Was this a hook-up or the start of something more? And would I even want something more? And on and on and on until a little voice in my head said Stop. Just stop. Enjoy this moment. Enjoy being an adult being affectionate with another adult who is happy to be spending time with you. Stop worrying. You were safe and smart about your actions. Enjoy the moment. Who cares what chapter comes next. You are strong and you know what you want and you will be ok. And even if he doesn't ever want to hang out again, you know he respects you.
Chivalry isn't about making financial gestures. It's courtesy. It's making beds and invitations. It's being interested in her life. It's giving him a ride. Offering food and shampoo, if that's what's needed. My ex-husband was great at courtesy. It was just that his addiction prevented him from intimacy. I was good at courtesy, too, but I don't think I knew intimacy, yet. My next husband will be good both at courtesy and intimacy, and so will I.
Life is interesting. I don't feel bad about my choices Saturday. I would much rather be with the considerate construction worker than the slimy banker, even if it was just for a night.
But my hunch is it wasn't. He already asked if I was up for a movie night later in the week. :)
1 comment:
Need update please! How was the movie?
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