Charismatic Megafauna by Quiconque

Last night I had my second first date in this internet dating experiment.  I’d spoken with the man a few times while I was down in Florida.  The conversations went well, and we were both eager to meet.   So, we tentatively scheduled a coffee date for the evening after I returned from my trip.  Already I had some hope, because decisiveness is a characteristic I am beginning to admire more and more since I’d been dealing with interesting men who are unable to make the jump from cyber-courtship to face-to-face dating.

I was not without reservations.  Despite his claim of being in his 30s, the man seemed younger every time I spoke with him.  He also seemed not to get my humor; he had interpreted a few things I said in jest as calculated attacks.  I made it clear that if he couldn’t take teasing, we would never work out as a couple.  I also made it clear that if we did become a couple, I planned to have me some sex with him.

We had a relatively benign coffee date.  It had its awkward moments.  I inadvertantly insulted him by praising his small, strong hands.  About 2 hours into the date his phone rang and he said he had to go.  I called him on the rescue phone call and he was offended.  But when I asked him point-blank if I would ever see him again, he hedged, called me “funny,” and didn’t reply.

At that point, I left to use the bathroom, adding, as I walked away from the table, that now was his chance to run.  However, I couldn’t open the door to the bathroom, because the lock required a token from the cashier.  Once I obtained the token, I still couldn’t get the door to open; so I gave up.

I returned to the table, reapplied my lip gloss, and declared that it was time to go.  My date prides himself on being a gentleman.  He opened the door for me (although he did not give me enough room to actually pass through the door) and walked me to my car.

Once outside in the balmy summer weather, I realized how strong the air conditioning had been in the coffee shop.  My fingertips were icy.  I touched his forearm and said, “Feel how cold my fingers are!”

At which point, he replied, horrified, “You touched the bathroom door with that hand and you just touched my arm.”  And then he pulled a bottle of Purell out of his pocket.

I was incredulous.  “First of all, I didn’t use my left hand to open the door.  Second, it was the door, on the outside, the one people touch before they even get into the bathroom.  Besides, do you think the table you were sitting at for the past two hours is pristine?”

He didn’t put away the Purell, though.

I pressed on, “Are you a germophobe?  Do you think girls have cooties?  I guess holding hands is out of the question.”  (Meanwhile, I was really thinking, I guess you don’t go downtown, in which case, I have no use for you.)

He tried to shrug it off, but I was like a dog with a bone.  “Look, I can see you’re squirming.  Why don’t you just take a moment and sanitize yourself.  I even have some wipes in my bag that you can rub yourself down with.”

At this point he decided to put the Purell away and continued to walk me to my car.  Once in the garage I said, “I don’t know how we’re going to say good-bye since I cannot touch you.”  We air kissed and that was the end of the evening.

I doubt I’ll be hearing from him again, and that’s not a bad thing.  I’m 0 for 2.

La Belle Helene suggested that I “mess with” men who send me inappropriate communications, rather than delete their messages out of hand.  I was leery of posting these here, but I truly believe that these men are not real, and therefore have no feelings to hurt.

Here’s a gem that I received today through a free dating site (I’ve changed the profile names to protect everyone, esp. myself):

Well, it happened. I had my first ever date with a man I met on the internet. My summer goal is complete. I guess I should go back to working on my dissertation now.

The date was charming in many respects. We spent much of it on the swings in a playground in Central Park. It was his idea, and he gets high marks for that. He was kind and funny and he complimented me often. I won’t go into detail here about what went wrong during the date, because he was a genuinely nice guy (not a Nice Guy a la HeartlessBitches.com). The main issue is that the chemistry was not there.

After four hours, I had to tell him. Goodness, that was difficult. He got so silent. I felt like a heel. But I had to tell him face to face. It would have been cowardly and dastardly to wait until he got home to send him the “it’s not you it’s me” email. I assured him that he had many fine qualities and would definitely find a woman better suited to him than I.

The Thin Man says I’m a heartbreaker.

After weeks of  going back and forth, I’ve had to end a very promising flirtation that was not living up to its potential.  It’s killing me, because the man in question is wonderful in many ways.  I think I will always be fond of him.  And, I hope to remain in contact with him.  However, things were not progressing as quickly as I would have liked, and he was balking for some reason he would not reveal.  So, as much as I enjoyed every interaction I’ve had with him, I need to find a flesh-and-blood man who will take me out on dates. 

The decision to stop pursuing a romantic relationship with the man in question did not come easily.   I woke up this morning looking like someone had punched me in the face.  Love had punched me in the face.  Damned love.

So, I did what any self-respecting woman does when she’s nursing a broken heart: I went shopping.  First stop was Sephora for my favorite perfume, Eau d’Issey.  I’ve been denying myself this scent because it has gotten almost prohibitively expensive since I first discovered it in Paris in ‘96.  But, I’m feeling sad; so I treated myself.  And now I smell even better than when I stepped out the shower this morning.

Next stop, Kenneth Cole for some extremely sexy shoes.  I put on these shoes, and let me tell you, sexy waves just emanate from the feet up.  They’re high–4″–but the platform makes them extremely comfortable.  And yes, they are most flattering to the calves.

The best part is a candy-colored stripe along the back that makes the shoes appear edible.  I almost licked them in the store.

Now, to find a place to wear my new perfume and shoes, and someone to go with….Oh, Chiwetel!