Monday, July 30, 2012

How Not to Impress a Lady: A Guide for Gentlemen Callers


“I think of semen as a semi-permanent glue." 

Just a casual disclosure in the middle of our first phone our first telephone conversation after meeting online. I was taken aback when he let  that tidbit about semen fly (no pun intended). Bodily fluids – already? But I figured, OK, maybe he’s a little nervous. Give him a chance. I did notice the conversation was not reciprocal – he would talk, then I would, but instead of a response to what I said, he would pick up right where he left off talking. 

As if I had interrupted him. Hmmm.

We were scheduled to meet up at a restaurant for brunch. He showed up for a first date riding a bike and wearing a sweat-stained gray t-shirt with cargo shorts. Really? Here I had fretted about the microscopic separation of my lower eyelashes, and he had simply put on the first schmattahs that were clean. He announced that, since he rode his bicycle there, he wasn’t hungry any longer and wanted to get coffee.

First of all, I didn’t care much for a unilateral change of plans, especially when it involves brunch. I don’t know about you, but to me Sunday brunch is sacred – Thou shalt honor the lox and bagels and keep them holey, saith Me. But without so much as an “I hope you don’t mind”, he walked his bike to the café. It just so happened that I did mind skipping my sacred brunch, and I minded again when he picked an outdoor table without asking if I had a preference. (I would've chosen an indoor table because it was a little chilly, thank you very much.) But I chose to say nothing to see where this would go.

Gentlemen readers: I would've thrown up a red flag for unsportsmanlike behavior if I thought he could get a penalty.

And Vixens, I’m not being huffy because the guy didn’t show up at my door dressed up, carrying a single rose, open the car door for me, then lay his jacket down on a puddle, lest I soil my petite shoe. We’re talking basic courtesy here. Besides, how could he treat a fabulous person like myself as if I were luggage to be toted around? 

He obviously didn’t recognize quality.

He talked about his life, his job, his time in the service – apparently, there was nothing interesting about my life that he wanted to hear. And then he opened what is known as “The Ex-Files.”

Dating 101: you do NOT talk about past relationships until you’ve been on at least three dates, or survived that awkward first kiss, whichever comes first. But this guy didn't have any problem describing sex-with-his-ex as  “biblical.” Hence, the semen reference of the day before.

He talked of how he nurtured this alcoholic through breast cancer – surgery, treatment, the works – and I thought, OK, he’s basically a good guy.

When he started talking about the incisions that were made on her nipple, I had finally had enough:

“Excuse me, but why are you telling me such personal information about your ex-girlfriend?”

He blinked, dumbstruck.

“Oh, I thought you’d want to know how loyal and caring I was,” he replied.

“That’s wonderful. But do you want to know anything about the woman sitting in front of you?” I asked.

“Wha – “

“You haven’t asked me one question about myself. You switched restaurants, picked an outdoor table, all without asking. Do I have anything to say here?” I know I was blunt, but what did I have to lose?

He sputtered that he had sent me a text about the change of plans, which, by the way, I never got. Finally he said, “I guess we should go our separate ways.” Maybe he thought I wouldn’t call his bluff, but he seemed surprised when I said, OK. We shook hands again, and parted, having had two completely different dates.

Here’s what I learned:

This is the kind of self-absorbed twit who I used to give a second chance, like “Maybe he’s not all that bad.” WRONG! Good thing I cut cargo early enough to save myself a lot of grief. 

Second, I didn’t sugarcoat what I didn’t like. I wasn't worried about coming off like a bitch. If it’s broke, and you can’t fix it, why not be honest? Who knows? Maybe he’ll learn something.

Yeah, right.

When I got home, I opened an email from him that simply read: “Arrogant response, for sure.”

“Arrogant!” I’ve never been called that before! Wow! This is so cool! I’m going take this “Arrogant” thing out for a spin. 

I like it already.