SportsCenter of Attention

Last weekend was host to two dates. Jack came up first. He’s a former college football player who was just as beefy in person as he was in his pictures. We met at a restaurant for some drinks, and he was very friendly and upbeat. Conversation took off right away. He’s only a year out of college, but he has a smarty pants job doing something in economics and helping poor countries. When I started drinking my vodka sprite I was fully into our conversation. By the time I finished it, I had checked out and was focusing on the TV mounted above his head. He was talking about football and I was watching the highlights on Sports Center. After quite a few of these match dates, I felt pretty secure that “getting together for a drink” had more of a time limit invisibly attached to it than, say, going out to dinner. I expected to be with him for an hour and a half, maybe two hours. Three hours later—yes, the amount of time it would take me to get to southern Jersey, I was still there checking my phone, silently begging to go home. He was a super cute, nice, healthy, smart guy, but it just wasn’t clicking for me. I ordered only one drink and had finished it within the hour. When I didn’t order another, I thought that was the international symbol for “set me free, I’m bored.” Finally, the night came to a close, and on my way home I kept asking myself if I was being too picky. Jack really had so many great qualities (minus that he lived in D.C., ugh), and I still couldn’t make it work.

Okay. So I may have been bored with Jack, but my next date was truly treacherous. It was horrible before it even started. Scott had a decent profile, although there was nothing that stood out. Oh, well, he does have two kids so that stood out a little. We spoke on the phone to set plans, and when I asked him to meet at a restaurant that was semi-halfway between us, but leaning a little more towards me, he was not so gentlemanly about it. He told me I should go to him. Uhhh, yeah right, you’re the boy, you can travel. A few days later, I was on my way to meet Scott when he called me. He was a bit agitated that he couldn’t find the restaurant. He didn’t yell at me, but he definitely raised his voice and blamed me for not giving him exact directions. “Oh, well you didn’t ask for directions. I told you the main road it was off of and figured you’d mapquest the specifics,” was my response. Ugh, I wanted to turn my car around, but I had made it to the restaurant by then. While I sat in my car, I dictated the directions to him, and a couple minutes later, I saw him pull in. He parked pretty far from where I was, and I noticed he was on the phone. Wow, I guess he had hung up with me and right away picked up with someone else. He got out of his car so I started to get out of mine. He was still talking on the phone as we walked toward the front. My annoyance for his rude phone etiquette paused briefly because I was trying to make sense of his outfit. I thought for a moment that maybe I was out on a date with 50 Cent. Curse words are pretty much non-existent from my vocabulary, and this guy had the F word splattered across the sleeve of his shirt. Yikes, he may not be a good match for me. He continued to talk on the phone while I stood next to him for another minute. We finally went inside and sat at the bar. It was 4:00 on a Sunday afternoon and I ordered the first of my three vodka sprites that I would soak up that day. He was dreadful. When I found out that his mother was 47 years old and he had a 31 year old brother along with three other siblings, I was…holding my tongue. The father/fathers of Scott and his siblings were M.I.A. , and it took everything in me not to scream, “Why would she keep having children?!” Thank goodness for football, Sports Center, and vodka; those three combined kept me from abandoning him right there. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t. I think he thought it was going well, and he would’ve stayed longer but I lied and said I had to leave.

During this past week, Scott has tried to contact me and I have ignored him. He’s not even worth the time to tell him he’s not worth my time.

Just the Two—or Nine—of Us

Thinking the guys may be different if I made a drop in elevation, I started talking with Carl because he was only 5’10”. Well, not only because of his height…he had lots of tattoos as well! Along with tattoos, and sub-6 foot height, Carl seemed to have a good nature to him. We talked on the phone a couple times, and he was calm, kind of like Mack. Because of scheduling issues, last night seemed like our best option to meet. I wouldn’t be just meeting him, though; I’d be meeting seven of his friends. I went to his house before we left, and they were not the warmest folk toward me. Carl was still getting ready and thankfully one of the seven decided to have a conversation with me. I wandered around a little bit and came across some awards Carl had received. They confirmed his claim in his profile that he volunteered with Big Brothers. Those awards sat next to stacks of books that he was studying from to move his career along. Career motivated but also has time to volunteer? He even has the desire to volunteer? That’s pretty rare to find. At this point, I had seen his roommates and friends more than Carl so I was a little worried that this wasn’t the best idea. The princess finally emerged from his room, ready to go out. We piled into cabs and headed for Arlington. Carl was really polite, and he did a good job of balancing a “boys’ night” and a match date all at the same time. We sat closely together around a couple tables, and we soon started playing a drinking game. His friends eased up and were way friendlier to me at the bar—hm, was that because they actually liked me or just because they had alcohol and didn’t care at that point? Either way, it was fun, but after a couple hours, Carl asked if I wanted to leave. I told him sure, hoping he meant that he would be leaving with me and not that he was kicking me out.

Thirty minutes later, we were back at his house—alone. It’s strange to say that we had been together for about four hours yet had never been totally alone. We talked for a little bit and it was just okay. I think we had both fallen into a sleepy mood because of the hectic day we each had and the alcohol was making us drowsy. I couldn’t tell if he liked me or not, and he probably felt the same since I didn’t really know if I liked him either. Before I left, I got a hug and a, “I’ll talk to you later,” from Carl. That’s code for “I’ll never speak to you again.” I’m learning things as I go, and I have learned to not expect anything when a guy tells me that. If a guy is interested in me, he will make the plan in the moment for the next date. This whole online dating thing is starting to get frustrating. I can’t believe out of all these guys, that Eric was the only one to make it beyond one or two dates. Ew, Eric is the best evidence I’ve got that online dating is where I’ll meet someone? Every time I feel like I could step away from match, I log on to simply peruse the options and end up signing my life away again. Why should this time be any different? If Carl contacts me then I’ll deal with it then, but for now, I need to see what some of my other choices are.

Impersonall A Waste of Time

After my dates with Will and Mack, I have learned that extra height does not mean extra personality. It actually seems to have had an inverse effect. I got to Champps and knew that Will hadn’t arrived yet, so I sat on the entry level of the building on a bench, next to the spiral stairs that led to the actual restaurant. Through the glass doors and windows, I watched as cars drove through the parking lot, and with each car I wondered if that was him. A couple minutes later, I looked up from my phone to see him walking into the view through the windows. Wow. He’s tall. And not as cute. Hm, that was a bummer. His hair was a little longer and scruffier than I like, and he was dressed in a t-shirt and a zip sweatshirt, but maybe his personality will really shine through tonight. We hugged, me basically throwing my arms around his waist and leaning into his stomach like a little girl would hug her daddy after he’s been away for a week on business. We walked up the stairs to the restaurant and decided to sit at the bar. I could feel the eyes of the other patrons watching us as we walked. Well, not so much watching me but watching the tower of Will. I wanted to shout out to all of them, “I know, isn’t he huge?!” We both ordered a drink, and he ordered dinner. We started talking and had some pretty unmemorable conversation. It was lacking in—everything. He seemed disinterested after the first few minutes even thought I can’t understand why since I’m UH-Mazing. We kept the conversation moving throughout the night, but it was just bleh. He had no personality, and he acted like he didn’t care he was on a “date.” I don’t understand why these guys do this. You will not hurt my feelings if you tell me ahead of time that you’re not interested in a date. You won’t hurt my feelings if you tell me after that you’re not interested in the date. But ya will piss me off. Without any type of personal connection happening, it was pretty clear that I had dragged myself out on a school night for nothing, and my hopes of marrying a Jolly Green weren’t going to happen. Or were they? I still had my date with Mack to go on!

The next night, like a broken record, I drove to the same restaurant and sat on the same bench while I waited for a different guy (but still a Jolly Green!) Mack called me after I had been sitting there for a few minutes to let me know that he was very close. Just like before when I had talked to him, he sounded very soothing and calm. As I was talking to him, he informed me that he was in the black Cadillac CTS driving by the building. He sounded way friendlier than Will and more enthusiastic about our outing. A couple minutes after our phone chat, Mack walked through the doors. Wow. He’s tall. I knew it was coming, but still—seeing someone whose lower body is the length of your entire body is surprising every time. Another awkward hug ensued, and as I scampered up the stairs, Mack took about two strides and had made it all the way to the top. We sat down and I could smell vanilla—like that vanilla scent from Bath & Body Works. Here’s the funny thing about vanilla scent: I hate it. I hate it badly, and I quickly realized that Mack had doused himself in it. Vanilla should be reserved only for ice cream or frosting, and maybe even to describe the color of a white crayon, but no man should pick up a bottle of vanilla and try to pass it off as their cologne. The conversation throughout dinner was fairly pleasant. I learned about how his family came to America in search of a better life, and he came off as very mature. He talked so softly and slowly, but not in a grandpa boring way, just in a thoughtful way that showed his tranquil personality. That was kind of opposite of my loud Italian-Arab voice and hands that constantly moving in sync with my mouth. He asked me a lot of questions to learn more about me, but it sorta felt superficial. It’s hard to explain. I was engaged in conversation and Mack was a nice guy, but I had mentally checked out early on. Like Will, the connection was missing and so was a personality. I needed more life in someone! Surprisingly, before we left, Mack asked if I would join him for an upcoming basketball game. It’s usually pretty awkward to reject someone in person, so I said that it sounded fun. Yeah, I know, I totally lied. Well not totally—I do really like going to sporting events so it wouldn’t be all that bad. We were supposed to go yesterday, but I got a message from him earlier in the day that he was really sick and wouldn’t be able to go. Relieved, I told him not to worry. He said he’d check out another game we could go to and he’d let me know. Fingers crossed that he doesn’t make it happen! I had already wasted two days with the Redwoods, I needed to work on finding someone who would actually be a good match.