Man #32, Ye Olde Bachelor

19 08 2012

After the emotional roller coaster I put myself through over Man #31, I still had the problem of telling him about the blog and getting his reaction to reading it before proceeding with a second date. Reasons 11 and 12 of my 13 reasons for Man #31 not to date me were:

11.   After my husband left, I started writing a blog called My Dating Prescription of which I doubt you would approve.

12.   I use profanity liberally, not so much on a daily basis in the way I speak, but in the writing of the above blog.  I also get the impression that you would want a woman who is a little more lady-like.

So, after Man #31 read my 13 reasons not to date me and said he would still like to go out with me again, I insisted that he take a look at the blog and try to get a sense of what exactly he would be getting himself into. These days, it takes a little while to get through the blog. I’ve written 127 blog posts and most of my posts are between 800 and 1200 words. That’s anywhere from 100,000 and 150,000 words. Let’s face it. This dating prescription is starting to feel like a dating epic.

Anyway, while I waited for Man #31’s reaction and questions, I continued on my dating journey.

I had received an email from a man who said he was an active 47-year-old engineer. He was an avid cyclist, so the tale I recount on my online dating profile of my bicycle crash on Lake Washington Boulevard a few years ago had caught his attention. He had apparently had a similar crash, but, rather than landing on his head like I had done, he landed on his hip and broke it.

And, no, landing on my head does not account for my mental state. I’ve always been a little twisted. This isn’t something recent.

Anyway, Man #32 could sympathize with my extended physical therapy experience, and after we talked bikes, he asked me out on a date.

Even through his emails, however, I got a vibe that he was not very adventurous, maybe even a little OCD. He had never been married nor had any children, and it felt like he liked things a certain way, probably a little too uptight for me. Regardless, it was just a date, right?

His desire for control revealed itself more when we started to plan where we were going to go on our date. Although he asked for my suggestions, which I supplied, he promptly vetoed them and decided he wanted to meet at Latona Pub. He did not live in Seattle, but he had gone to Latona Pub before, and apparently, felt comfortable there. I’m willing to go just about anywhere as long as a man isn’t asking me to go eat glorified fast food, like Red Robin or Azteca, so I agreed.

We were supposed to meet at 6 p.m., and I arrived before Man #32. The pub was crowded, so I had to sit at the bar between two handsome men in their thirties. Poor me. While deciding on my beer, I struck up a conversation with both of them. They both recommended the stout, and although I don’t usually drink stouts in the summertime, I went ahead and followed their recommendations.

Man #32 arrived and instead of looking 47 he looked 57. He was wearing a brown silk t-shirt, a tan blazer, and khaki pants. His fiery red hair, although mostly missing on the top, had been sculpted up to a height of about an inch and a half above his scalp and then combed back to cover what was a very large bald spot. The whole thing was sort of see-through, and yet, with the light behind him, it glowed, like a fiery orange halo.

Since Ye Olde Bachelor had arrived, we were able to get a table. I said goodbye to my thirty-something companions. They sort of looked at the two of us as if they could tell we were on a first date, and I suddenly felt self-conscious. Even after we were seated, I noticed people looking at us, like maybe they were wondering what brought the two of us together. I typically get comments that I look 8 years younger than my age, and he clearly looked much older than most 47 year olds.

I always wonder how much men lie about their age.

When we started to order food, Ye Olde Bachelor commented on the restrictive diet he follows, and I started to wonder if that was the reason why his skin looked so old. He made me feel uncomfortable about choosing what I wanted from the menu. He wanted to share something, but then, he was restricted on what he was willing it eat.

It was a fucking pain in the ass if you want to know the truth.

Now, it’s not that I have to have my way all the time. I really don’t, but I started thinking that if a man can’t even give up enough control on a first date to let a woman order what she wants off a bar menu, what would a relationship with him be like? I’ve had experiences where a man ordered my meal for me and it was wonderful. When I was in Rome, for example, I had dinner with a handsome Italian man, and letting him order for me, so I could experience things I didn’t know, was fabulous.

However, Ye Olde Bachelor ordered the chicken quesadilla.

Oh yey!

Throughout the date I made polite conversation, but I was never able to relax. His mannerisms and questions just seemed very uptight and judgemental, and quite frankly, I was not attracted to him at all what with the orange halo and all.

As we left the bar, he walked me towards my car and asked if he could have my email address. He wanted to stay in touch. This is where I did that thing guys do when they say, “I’ll call you.”

I said, “I’ll email it to you.”

“Ok,” he said.

I walked away, got in my car, and drove home. Later than night, I sent Ye Olde Bachelor an email through OkCupid thanking him for the date. I did not include my personal email address.

The next day, I received an email from him. He said,

“I guess since you did not give your email address and/or phone number you don’t want to pursue it further. It’s OK, I thought you were nice but not a strong vibe, huh?”

Rather than just leave him hanging in silence, I responded,

“I had a nice time, but with further thought, felt there were some areas where we differ enough that it would difficult to pursue a relationship.  Thanks for meeting me though.  I had a nice evening and I enjoyed our conversation.”

Onward.

Photo here.

Advertisements

Actions

Information

2 responses

23 08 2012
Chicago-Style Girl

As usual, I’m loving this post. When I read these re-counted tales, I feel like I’m chatting with a girlfriend. None of my girls are currently actively dating at this moment, and I have realized I miss those stories. But yeah, control freaks are no good.

A guy one of my friends used to date wasn’t a control freak at all. He just never ever stepped outside of the box. So all their dates were at American restaurants because that’s all he ate. Her rationale was that if his food was that boring, there was no way the sex would be good,so she moved on quickly.

23 08 2012
Wilma

I think your friend and I see things pretty similar. I think one of the easiest forms of adventure is experiencing new foods. If a man is unadventurous about food, I equate it with being unadventurous at life, and that includes sex. Why have plain vanilla when you can have coffee toffee crunch?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




%d bloggers like this: