Bachelor #45

Remember the Overpriced Dating Service called to tell me about the pilot, and I got all caught up in the fantasy of dating a pilot, only the pilot, well, took off, and so I never got to meet him? So then they found me a very, very attractive lawyer, only the lawyer was too busy with some big important trial, so I didn't get to meet him either?

Well, they knew I was getting a little frustrated, what with all the fantastic men they WEREN'T setting me up with and all. I can be so difficult that way, hoping to actually MEET men. So they called to reassure me that, not to worry, they've found yet another candidate for me, and they've already checked and this one is available right away.

Bachelor #45 was 44, 6"2, two kids, owns a successful consulting company, active, cultured, good looking. Sounds great, right? Only I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that this was a consolation date. They knew I was getting impatient and so they'd better send me out on a date -- any date -- to shut me up. Obviously, my good friends at the Overpriced Dating Service have failed to notice that sending me on just any date is likely to have precisely the opposite effect.

Bachelor #45 arrived at the restaurant before me. As soon as I saw him, I knew my suspicions were right. I was on a consolation date. It wasn't that he was atrocious. He was just so far removed from the type of man I'm attracted to it was almost comical to think I'd paid $114 for "skilled matchmakers" to set me up with him.

Still, I tried not to focus on the fact that I didn't find him remotely attractive. Fortunately, that was easy, because I soon found something else to focus on: counting the seconds of awkward silence. And there were many, many silences. In fairness, a lot of it could have been my fault, because after the first embarrassingly unfunny joke he told and then the 5-minute monologue about his work history, I stopped trying and started plotting my escape. I'm sure he's a very nice man, and if I was looking for an awkward, geeky, prematurely middle-aged man with limited conversation skills, I probably would have really liked him.

Still, to my great astonishment, after what to me was an excruciating hour of sporadic and dull small talk punctuated by textbook awkward silences, he actually asked if I'd like to do this again sometime. Now let me see ... would I like to spend another evening I'll never get back on an alarmingly bad date, counting the minutes until it's polite to leave?

While I was pondering that difficult decision, the waitress brought us SEPARATE BILLS. Now, I've been on more than my share of dates, and I have NEVER been handed separate bills. I can only surmise that Bachelor #45, who told me enough about himself for me to know he's not exactly hurting for money, arrived first and instructed the waitress to bring two bills. Without even meeting me first. What if we had hit it off? What if he hadn't bored me into a near-catatonic haze, rendering me unable to summon any of my usual charm and keep the conversation lively? What if we did agree to go out again? Would he still have been too cheap to buy me a $9 glass of Shiraz?

Once again, a stellar matchmaking job by the Overpriced Dating Service and an outstanding use of $114.

Next.