First dates. The 50% predictability of "that shit sucked" story always to follow. Homegirl took full advantage of that dirty stat about a week ago! So, I've decided to make this an ongoing subject, as it occurs of course. I don't plan on being a serial dater-it's not my style and partially in poor taste now that I'm in my 30s.
I have not dated in a while. I've been laying low, dormant, recharging my emotional batteries over the past couple years. Whatever it's to be, I want it to start out quite differently than my last "relationship" did. Bad foundation, all sorts of cracks...not made to pass inspection let alone for long habitation. At any rate, I decided new place, some new parts of me, why the hell not. The downside of not dating for a while is being out of the where to meet men loop. That's a broad question however, so the true question is where to meet:
God fearing
Intelligent
Has a job
No gold teeth
Has all his teeth
Has a car
DOESN'T LIVE WITH MAMA (we'll get back to that in a bit)
Has no strange obsessions (we will also visit that)
Sans multiple children, preferably none
Honorable
Heterosexual (full time, not when there's nothing better around)
Funny
Good looking (at least my speed)
Loves music
Not over 35
Clever/witty
The list goes on and on and on and....lastly....respects my crazy!
Men?
And yes, that was all ONE question. So I go where everyone goes to do creeping things, sneaking things, kinky things, secret things and of course, shopping things. The Internet. I'm not going to say what site, but it's yielded very few results for a multitude of disrespectful reasons. But I finally came across "a diamond" in the rough. Right age, no children, job, appeared to have a car (at least according to the picture), plays the drums (musician bonus) and good looking. The minimum requirements for me to entertain giving out my cell number. All good on paper. I would later learn, the paper has two sides and one of them is blank. I reached out, he reached back, we set up the safe mid day coffee date. You know, 30 minutes max kind of setting. It all started out pretty well. He was his picture, his truck was true, his job existed and no yuck mouth in sight. But I wouldn't be here if it were all good....I'd be somewhere up in his face. Detail for detail, this story gets boring, but here's the breakdown:
He DOES live with his mother! No comment...use your imagination.
He DOES have what I would consider a strange obsession and I must must must go off on a tangent about this one. He collects magazines!! What the fuck grown man does this shit? Now I would consider this past time/hobby just fine if we're talking rare Time magazine covers or old comic books. Even magazine covers of current historic events, like all things Obama-I get that. No, nah uh...I don't get the normals like that. This fool collects King Magazine, Vibe and never to be left behind, Ebony! What the shit? His argument and let's face it, it needs one even if I don't buy it, was that these publications might one day be worth money. Let me tell you something, never ever, not never, in ever, as long as never is ever will any of those magazines be worth anything more than the damn ass load of money they charge for them!!! If anything, you're in the red!! No profit margin can be realized from Angel Lola Luv's ass in glossy print! Granted her ass should be considered a National Monument and wreaths should be hung from it as an 8th wonder, but King Magazine....really? And he bragged! He went on like a school girl that scribbles variations of her name across every open space of her binder and the last name of some school boy she's in love with attached to those variations! He described to me in complete unsolicited detail the case he keeps them in!!! My personal titty could have been laying on the table in front of him and his eyes wouldn't have expressed as much happiness as his overly detailed, half ass thought out hobby. I only hope the entire expression on my face said "I could give a shit dude!" So all this to say, this is not a hobby. I would even give a free pass and say it's not an obsession. This is a clear case of a pack rat. That is part of the list. We're done here sir!
So what finally pushed it over the top, was how much of a picky eater this man is. He doesn't eat cucumbers or anything that comes on a salad, including the lettuce and ANY salad dressing. He's never even had crab. Did I happen to mention that I'm a "sushi whore"? So I can't even get this man on a basic California Roll! This list also goes on and on and on. It got to a point in the conversation where I told him to tell me what he does like, because I think that list is shorter. Anyone who knows me, has dated me, has eaten out with me or has ever talked to me about food knows that I am a foodie to the letter. I love to cook, I love to eat, I love to watch food being cooked and I love to watch people eat. It sounds fat I know, but what-a-ya-gonna-do? He then, called me 45 minutes after the date was over, in which it's important for me to mention that we only spent an hour and half together, to ask me to "grade" the date. I have NEVER had a man, anyone, ask me this. I think it's entirely inappropriate, lacks confidence-which is major-and wide is the door that swings when you ask this question. Especially when you ask, me. So I was honest. However, I put it all in perspective, pet peeve violations aside and gave him a B-. And can you believe it, a B- got questioned! I explained why the B- and it turned into an argument. He was arguing for a better grade! The hell? This ain't 3rd period Spanish! You get what you get cause you asked!!! I ended that conversation and have not had any interest in knowing his whereabouts since.
Date diagnosis:
What should he have done differently?
Instead of asking me for a grade on the date, he should have just had the balls to either A) ask me out on a second date or B) simply ask me if I had a good time. Option B alone would have gotten him a more favorable response because I would have said I had a nice time. The truth is, I did. It was nice getting out on a Sunday afternoon which I enjoy. But he played his hand all kinds of wrong from Sunday. He provided too much information up front which made it very easy for me to form an opinion about him based on what I'm sure are limited parts of his personality. But he beamed about them. And finally, when he asked me a question and I gave him the honest answer, he decided to fight me on it. What does this say to me about our future communication?
What did I take from the date?
I am ready to put myself out there again. I believe that's what my useless magazine collecting, picky eating, mama's house living, drummer boy was designed for.
I certainly hope he finds a woman to march to those beats. But for now, I have my own rhythm...
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