Gene

The longer a girl does online dating, the finer-tuned her sense becomes of things she can live with in a potential suitor and things that are absolute, non-negotiable dealbreakers. I had no idea, really, for example, until I met Gene, the next fellow in my dating rotation, how much I appreciated a sarcastic, haughty sense of humor. I figured it out pretty quickly.

Gene initially seemed very, very cool. Based upon his first few emails, we had about a million things in common. He wrote well, read good books, took excellent vacations, was a technology geek and had a DVR full of television shows that was nearly identical to mine. He was also tall, had a shaved head, worked in IT management and had a house in a very cool area of Seattle. All systems were a definite go. Gene asked if I wanted to meet for a cocktail and, with no hesitation, I agreed to join him.

I got to our meeting location first and, when Gene walked in, it was clear that he was my date. Turns out there aren’t a lot of 6’4” bald guys walking around. I waved him down and, as he approached the table, my stomach sunk just a little bit. Some people look much better in photographs and Gene apparently fell into that category. He wasn’t horribly unattractive but he wasn’t nearly as cute as his picture had been online. At all. I felt a little bit of sadness but, once we got a cocktail and started talking, it abated just a bit. We had a perfectly decent conversation although it wasn’t fantastic. I wasn’t sure that we exactly ‘clicked’ but we had enough in common that, when Gene suggested we go to a Seahawks game that next weekend, before we even left the table, I again agreed to join him. Three hours in a packed football stadium ought to clear up my feelings just a bit.

Gene sent me an email suggesting I meet him at his house and we could drive together to the game. He had seemed pretty safe, had a convertible, it was one of the few hot days in Seattle – I was easily swayed. As Gene let me into his house, I looked around and, holy mother of god, there was some ugly, ugly art all over the place. I only saw the kitchen and living room as we walked to the garage but those two rooms were decked out apparently all by the same artist, an artist I never, ever wanted to give any of my money. Deep breath– art was not that big of a thing and there was football to watch. Good NFL can always distract me.

I have often told myself that baseball or football games are a bad idea in the early stages of dating because they go on for hours and hours and hours. That is a lot of time to make conversation if the chemistry turns out to be non-existent. Gene and I not only had to endure the pain of awkwardly talking but, lucky for me!, it was also about 95 degrees and we had seats directly in the sun. I was about to get an idea of what hell might feel like.

As I mopped the sweat from every part of my body, it hit me why talking to Gene was such a chore. He had absolutely no sense of humor and had never heard of sarcasm. I didn’t ‘get’ how funny worked for him at all. I would say something snarky and he would look at me in confusion and then, when he made a joke, he would turn completely in his seat to look at me and wait for me to laugh like I was some kind of monkey. Kill me, kill me, kill me. By halftime I was looking around for something to jam into my eyeballs. It was so hot and I so did not like him.

I made it through the second half, barely, and we headed back to Gene’s place. I could not wait to get out of that car. I figured that Gene had to have noticed our complete lack of chemistry but, when we pulled into his garage, he asked if I wanted a tour of, uh, well, the rest of his house. Since the only rooms left were bedrooms that were probably decorated by my favorite artist, I told Gene that I was sorry but I had to get up pretty early. He seemed totally fine, gave me a sweaty hug and I was gone in a flash. He was a nice guy but not…for…me.

I got an email from Gene the next day asking me if I wanted to go camping (!!!) the following weekend so he apparently felt a tad differently than I did. I told him that I was afraid that I didn’t feel that connection and he, very admirably, was absolutely cool, wished me the best of luck and made a lame joke about football being a romance killer. He probably stared at his computer screen to see if I was laughing but unfortunately for him, I was on to the next bachelor.

 

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Published in: Uncategorized on June 29, 2011 at 4:44 am  Comments (2)  

Jason and Chris

It is one thing to have a bad date, an uneventful evening or a disappointing encounter but it is a bit of a kick to the gut to have two of them within 24 hours. I was able to experience this wonderful rare occurrence one weekend when I met Jason on a Saturday evening and Chris for a Sunday beer.  A huge letdown of a night followed by a frightfest of an afternoon. How could a girl get so lucky?

Jason sent me an email, I checked out his profile and I was immediately impressed. He had a Cake song lyric as his headline, he had traveled all over the world and he was a neurologist at a hospital in Seattle. I liked, I liked! We exchanged a few emails back and forth and we then agreed to meet at a local brewery the next weekend for a drink. I started counting the days in anticipation.

I walked into the bar and looked around for my strapping doctor of a date but there was no one that looked really anything like Jason’s photos. A guy at a table near the bar stood up and waved at me and my stomach suddenly sank. He was so not what I thought he was going to look like. He was at least six inches shorter than me and just…tiny. He was a small shadow of a man. Crap. I sat down and Jason and I had what was at best a decent conversation. He was shy, but cool, and we did manage to piece together some semblance of a discussion.

The trouble came when I asked about Jason’s job. He hadn’t said which hospital he worked at and, when he told me, I got my second bad feeling of the night. I have a medical condition that is totally manageable but that I don’t mention on first dates – it can be a bit of a buzzkill in that situation – and, it turned out, Jason worked in the same hospital as my doctor. I tried to be casual and ask if he by chance knew her and, oh, no, he told me that he worked two doors down from her and they were actually great friends. Crap, crap. And, lucky me, I had an appointment with her in two days. What were the odds of this lucky coincidence?

I briefly mulled over lying or not saying anything else but what was the point? The truth was going to come out sooner or later and, as I thought it might, any chance I had with Jason disappeared as soon as I mentioned my appointment. Was it the condition he maybe thought I had? Was it a professional guideline that he couldn’t date me? Or maybe was it that he sensed that I wasn’t attracted to his troll-like appearance? Either way, the air went right out of that balloon of an evening. We finished our drinks, said our goodbyes and that was that. It seemed we both knew the outcome of this adventure. But there was still hope! I had Chris to meet the next day!

I had only exchanged about two emails with Chris when he asked if, by chance, I had time to meet him for a drink that Sunday. From what little I knew about him he seemed fun, relatively harmless and there was a sunny day in the Seattle forecast. How bad could a drink on a patio be?

I realized as I drove to meet Chris that I knew really nothing about him other than his age and his height and that he was reasonably cute from his one picture. He had expressed interest in me, a good sign but, other than that, I was a little clueless. What the hell?

What the hell was right when a guy that seemed to be Chris drove up in the biggest truck I had ever seen pulling a trailer with another obnoxious vehicle behind it. What, what, what? I was still trying to figure out what was going on when Chris jumped about six feet to the ground from the cab of his monster truck. Sweet mother of god – please tell me that was not my date! He had on huge black boots, a silver ring on every finger, a belt buckle that I wouldn’t be able to lift and huge black, spiky gelled hair. It was like some kind of country Motley Crue nightmare. But he was waving! It was him!

What followed was perhaps the shortest and most cringe-inducing 45 minutes of my life. It turned out Chris lived in Canada, an, oh, different country, but he came down to Seattle every weekend to buy cars for his used car lot. There were more girls, eh?, in Seattle so he just chose to list that city as his hometown. I gulped my drink in a bit of a fugue state as Chris talked for half an hour about, of all things, the gloriousness that was Cuba which, maybe I didn’t know, you could fly directly to from that country north of the border. Was he serious??? What exactly was I supposed to find attractive about this international, cigar-smoking car salesman?

Even though it was only 5:00 p.m., I told Chris that I had to go since it was a work night and all. He said something about Sunday nights at the border being a nightmare but I was already halfway out the door.  I did get an email three days later asking if I would interested in coming up to Vancouver to catch a hockey game with him but I, surprisingly, politely declined that tempting offer.

What could be worse than that weekend of dating hell? I figured the only place to go from that point was up, right? Foolish, foolish girl.

Published in: Uncategorized on June 8, 2011 at 4:10 am  Comments (4)