The Knight of Convenience

I recently ran into a girl friend of mine from my youth while shopping at the local Trader Joe's. She and I knew each other from elementary school in West Orange where I grew up.  We had not seen each other in years, but she immediately recognized me, having been my friend on Facebook for some time now. It was delightful to see her.

We spoke of our families, our day off, my first dog, Shadow, who she remembered, and happened upon the topic of dating. She had been reading this very blog and being a single person out there in the fish bowl, shared a similar story of 'what you see is not necessarily what you get' with her dating experiences.  I remember saying to her that we had spent all this time on our educations, careers, traveling and enriching ourselves. For who? 

Was she single. Probably.

Neither of us had foreseen running into each other 25 years later, single, without children and with such low expectations for dating.  We looked great, but were exhausted from the "monotonous discomfort"- as my friend Steve so aptly put it.  We decided that we would meet for drinks to get together there after to catch up, and have a night out where you didn't feel like you were on an interview.  As I walked off I thought of one of the most recent dates I had been on. 

This particular suitor had sent me a message introducing himself in the usual way on the dating site. He had just happened upon my page, thought we had some things in common and he lived locally. He was hoping I would want to catch a drink to see if there was chemistry. This was his intro. 

Here's my new view of online dating in 2014.  There is no flirting. There is no flattery and complimentary alluring innuendo. Modern dating has turned into: Email (maybe a few) of solicitation, obligatory getting-to-know-you texting and then the date. There are usually no phone calls.  There is no hope for dinner out, or flowers like you would see in the movies for a first date. It's not all Richard Gere in Pretty Woman as we children of the 90's were hoping for.  Well not entirely. . . 

If dating were sex, it would be more like sex with a hooker.  Wham, bam, thank you ma'am is the speed with with which you virtually 'meet' and then voi' la; you're on a date. Interest in another person online seems to expire more quickly than milk, so it's get out there or be left in the dust. Modern dating is a Chuck Norris, daisy-cutter style of dating.  

Now having learned to conform to this new Chuck Norris approach to cutting to the chase of whether or not you wanted to go on a date, I now feel I have a black belt in this art form.  

I check out his profile page on the dating site before I respond. He looks attractive in his picture but I have now begun to pay more attention to what these guys write.  Sometimes what they are 'saying' in their profile let's on more than just the words they type. This will make more sense in later posts.

He has a few selfies of himself from the neck up and clothed.  Thank God. He gets the gold star for the day. 

He has a few pictures of places and events. OK, that's pretty standard. 

Is is a good looking, dark haired man, with matching well manicured facial hair and what seems to be a good sense of style. 

He lives in the area, is employed, has a list of similar interests and has a simple yet attractive 'about me' section. He shares his interests, what others think of him and what he's looking for in a partner. He writes in full sentences and uses punctuation.

I look to his age cringing in awful anticipation of the worst.  Ah ha! My fears of  once again plunging into the kiddie pool have been laid to rest.  He's older than me! No wonder he writes with punctuation!

He's in.

I agree via email to meet for this get together and ask him where he would like to go. We agree we will go out in Morristown later on in the week, and he sends on his phone number so we can set up places and times. 

I feel like I have done this 100 times in the last nine months. I'm sort of thread bare from this endeavor but I remain positive and hopeful???

The day that we were scheduled to meet, I end up not feeling well and canceling. I ask if I can get a mulligan and he politely agrees.  Later on that week when I am feeling better, I text him to see if we can try to connect again. I mean, I have to meet this man; he still uses full words, not just text speak. 

We agree that we will meet the following evening at a bar in Parsippany that is conveniently located for both of us. 

The night of our date I put on my usual 'date outfit', that consists of jeans and a cotton tee shirt , with a long jacket like sweater over it. I arrive at the restaurant that we agreed on and the server ushers me to a table. I sit there and let my eyes wander while I am waiting.  I've sort of spaced out when I notice in my peripheral vision someone approaching. I focus my attention on this figure next to me. Here he is.

His pictures online were pretty true to form. Here he was; a good looking, tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man. 

He said "hello" and then immediately popped himself into the seat across from me. 

The waitress then immediately came by to get his drink order.  He said something to the extent of "I'll have my usual."

He placed his order, sort of winking at the waitress in a kind of 'I'm a VIP here' sort of way. I guess that's his swagger?

"So this is where all the PoF dates come?", I thought to myself and sort of smirked.

I ordered a glass of Sauvignon blanc, and settled in. "I think we have a fellow veteran dater here folks," I thought to myself.  Cool. Maybe there will be a little more ping-pong in the conversation than the last date.

He asked me if I had ever been to this bar before. I explained how I had seen it built, but had never been here. He then divulged that he lived about 500 yards away and had walked here. 

"Convenient,"I thought to myself. Was this another guy just looking to hook up? I was now a little apprehensive of the evening. I mean, any bar you can drag your date's body from. . . 

I noticed that there were a number of TVs that were probably great to watch games on.  I mentioned this and we began to talk about sports teams that we liked.  I liked none of his.  He liked none of mine. I think that he may have actually scoffed and laughed at me when I mentioned I was a Giants fan. I couldn't be offended by this. They did suck so far this year. 

I explained to him how this year I had become more interested in the game of football and learning stats and plays. He looked at me as if I had begun speaking in tongues.  Had he never heard of a woman who loved football?

To make sure he understood what I meant, since for some reason he didn't seem clear, I began to talk about the games that I had seen the previous Sunday. I recalled some of the plays and all of a sudden it became Sports Center mash up here on our date.  He began to challenge my re-telling of the games I had watched and felt some of my re-cap was wrong. He argued that the plays and people I thought were successful were not correct accounts of the performances and dismissed progress for any of the teams that I was in favor of as happenstance or luck. 

This was resulting in an awkward silence. 

He was now ordering his second beer.  He had relaxed back in his chair, with one arm slung over the back of the hi back chair. His body language either read, "well this is over" or "Yeah, that's the way it is." Either way, I was not feeling the vibe. 

I figured to change from this heated subject to a more mellow topic, why not ask about his job. I segued to inquiring how he liked his work in the hopes of this getting us back to homeostasis. He began that it was a job, but he had been there for ages and well,  "it is what it is."

He seemed to have this over arching blasé attitude about everything from that point forward.  Now I was beginning to check out. I don't want to date someone who is unattached and blasé about his existence.  Nope.  This wasn't gonna cut it I was thinking as he then remarked. . .

"Do you work out at all?"

"Ouch," I responded. Jokingly.

"Well I couldn't tell," he responded.

Jeez.  I guess my season of pumpkin beer was doing more damage than I  thought.  I now felt like Kobe beef dangling across the table from him. 

He then ordered a third beer.  We had only been here for about an hour. I was now uncomfortable: Not at the drinking,  just talking to him.  I felt like he thought I was such an awful date that he was going to drink me away. He was looking around, for what, I had no idea. I had finished my glass of wine and thought it was my chance to make a dash for it. I would wait till he was done with THIS beer and then mention that I still had some work to do and had to get home. 

I wasn't going to waste any more of what could be a good night of conditioning my hair or re-arranging  my underwear drawer at home. 

We both suffered through the conversation during his third beer. If there was a camera there, you could have seen us both uncomfortably shifting in our seats.  I hadn't ordered another glass of wine so I could hopefully 'empty-drink pressure' my date into finishing his. We muddled through more mundane conversation about the traffic in the area and commutes to work.

I work from home during the day.This should give you an idea of how well the conversation was going.

I think that watching mold grow at this point would be more entertaining.  As soon as he finished his beer I noticed that he was going to hail the waitress over for another beer.

Hells to the NO. I am outta here.

I told him that I was really appreciative of his getting together for this mulligan date but since it was a school night, I best be getting a move on home.  He seemed more upset at the lack of opportunity for another beer than missing out on more time with me.  In fact, while I was standing up to leave, I think he was hailing the waitress for another drink.

It was A OK. There was zero chemistry and he was more in love with the curves of the beer glass than he would ever be with me.