Bachelor #66

When my friend C called to tell me that yes, her new beau does indeed have a single friend who is quite interested in going out with me, amazingly, all memories of hideous fix-ups vanished from my mind. I thought, C’s new beau is funny and charming; surely his friends are as well. Sometimes the mind’s ability to forget past experiences and remain hopeful for the future is nothing short of miraculous. Especially when it comes to dating.

Here’s the info I got on Bachelor #66: 51 but youthful and active, 6”1, a successful developer, and has hair. These things were all true. He was fairly young looking for 51, he didn’t need to lie about his height, and he did indeed have hair. He had bushy, frizzy graying hair both growing out of his head and bursting out of his shirt, but yes, he had hair.

Here’s the info I didn’t get on Bachelor #66: he has VERY LARGE TATTOOS ALL OVER HIS FOREARMS. We’re not talking about a subtle little something on the shoulder, which some (though not I) might call sexy. We’re talking about, among other things, a BIG SCARY EYE on one arm and I don’t know what was on the other because, frankly, I was too scared to look. I understand that lots of people like tattoos, though most of those people would prefer something remotely tasteful and a little less frightening. I, on the other hand, have never been a fan. I was nothing short of horrified. No wait, is revolted short of horrified? It’s hard to rank the powerful negative emotions I suffered in those 45 minutes. There were MANY.

The fact that he is, in all probability, COVERED in tattoos, would have been handy information to know before agreeing to meet him. Here’s some more information that would have been handy to know: he has only been separated for 6 months. Now, you might want to argue that the good ones get snatched up quickly and one shouldn’t judge too hastily on this alone. You could try, but you would be wrong. He is still in that oh-so-attractive phase during which he believes either that his dates can be used as free therapy sessions, or that talking about what went wrong in his marriage and what is wrong with his ex-wife is somehow attractive to women. You might think that since my only reaction to these stories was to comment on the weather every few minutes, he might have, at some point, come to the realization that I couldn’t conceivably be less interested in the story of his ill-fated marriage. But again, you’d be wrong there too.

Fortunately, there came a point when he finally changed topics and told me about his hobby. Unfortunately, his hobby is fixing up old cars, which he went on about at great length and in great detail, somehow mistaking my silence for interest, when in fact I was simply too bored to bother participating in the conversation. Did you know that the way they used to design cars in the 1960s is different from the way they design cars today? And did you know that it is endlessly fascinating? I do, because Bachelor #66 told me so. It’s a good thing because somehow I don’t think I would have come to the same conclusion on my own. I might have said “sleep-inducing” or “something-you-should-talk-to-your-male-friends-about-and-avoid-boring-your-dates-nearly-to-suicide-with.” But “fascinating?” Um, no.

Finally, after the longest 45 minutes in history, my pain threshold reached its maximum and I proclaimed it too cold to sit outside another minute. I didn’t even think I was subtle, but I guess he was having such a good ole time talking about his crazy ex-wife and the peaceful serenity found only beneath the hood of a car, he thought it went well enough to ask if he could call me sometime. I think I mumbled something incoherent along the lines of “whatever” and then scrambled into my car and sped away as fast as I could manage. What I should have said was, “You can call, but I won’t answer.”

Next.

Bachelors #61, 62 and 63

So many men, so little time to blog about them!

Sometimes it seems there is such a dearth of men, the universe may never yield another date. Other times my dance card is so full I can barely squeeze in another. I am delighted to report that my cup is currently running over with men, and some of them would appear to possibly even be reasonable prospects. Go figure.

Unfortunately, however, sometimes there are things one just cannot share with the internet. No, silly, get your head out of the gutter. The issue at hand is Bachelor #61. He is the brother of my very lovely friend C. And so, by nature, he is not bloggable. Having said that, I think it is perfectly reasonable to share the story of the mind-bogglingly-awkward way in which we were introduced. (Thanks C.!)

Bachelor #61 has a sailboat. C set out to suggest that her brother invite us out for a boat ride. That was all well and good, and potentially ever-so-slightly less awkward than your run-of-the-mill blind date. But that was before C's sister AND HER MOTHER got invited as well. Yes folks, I went on a blind date WITH HIS ENTIRE FAMILY along for the ride. And of course, they all knew why I was there, crashing what had somehow morphed into a floating family dinner. All I can say is THANK GOD FOR WINE.

Amazingly enough, both Bachelor #61 and I survived the excursion and have agreed to go out again. I'm thinking maybe just the two of us this time.

And then there's Bachelor #62. Bachelor #62 is the latest offering from the Overpriced Dating Service. Now, if you'll recall, we are not too confident in the Overpriced Dating Service's abilities. And so this time I asked A LOT of questions. For example, I'm pretty sure I asked the question "IS HE ATTRACTIVE?" about 40 or 50 times. The first time, their answer was, "He has kind eyes." Are you convinced? Yeah, me neither. But after I asked the question another few dozen times, and insisted that they give me a better reason to think I might like him than the fact that he enjoys movies and wine tasting, as, by the way, does every single man they've recommended, they swore up and down that he is appealing in many ways, well suited to me, and yes, he's attractive. So I agreed to meet him.

They described Bachelor #62 as 5"10 with BROWN HAIR and blue eyes. Kind blue eyes, that is. Now, you'll recall I asked for confirmation about his looks REPEATEDLY. And so, you can imagine my surprise when a COMPLETELY BALD man sat down at my table. Now, in fairness, Bachelor #62 is actually a reasonable prospect. He's smart, interesting, charming, successful, active, and the kind of guy who doesn't play games and would certainly know how to treat a woman. And he's not actually UNattractive. Had I not been expecting a man with brown hair, I might not have been so immediately taken aback. Yet another ridiculous misrepresentation by the Overpriced Dating Service. Did they think I wouldn't notice? Still, while I'm not wildly attracted to bald men, in the end I had a nice time with him and in the interest of doing the smart thing -- you know, just for something new and different -- I'm going to go out with Bachelor #62 again.

And speaking of wildly attractive, then there's Bachelor #63. Bachelor #63 wrote to me online. We emailed a few times, and made plans to get together. When he cancelled our date at the last minute, I was a little annoyed and tempted to write him off. But his emails were funny, his stats were good (45, 5"11, fit, successful, divorced, successful, lives nearby) and oh by the way, he's HOT. And he even has hair. So when he texted again and asked to reschedule, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and ignore my instincts that were telling me this one has NO IDEA how to treat a woman.

We met for a late drink. He suggested a very upscale restaurant. Everyone there knew his name. We drank. We laughed. We talked. He showed off. There was flirting. It was fun. He is trouble. So naturally, I like him.

So there you have it. The plan at the moment -- astonishingly -- is to go out with all three of them again, as well as a few more on the agenda (though how I plan to fit all this into my schedule remains a bit of a mystery) and hope that, as is usually the case, the choice becomes easy. Of course, the most likely possibility seems to be that I will be distracted by the fun, sexy unreliable one and therefore lose interest in the nicer ones, only to find I've wasted even more of my relative and rapidly disappearing youth on yet another Mr. Wrong. But acknowledging that you have a problem is the first step towards recovery, right?

Here's hoping. But I make no promises.

Stay tuned.

Bachelor #49

I don't want to shock anyone, but you might want to sit down for this:

I HAD A GOOD DATE.

Correct that. I had a great date. I know, it seems pretty much impossible. And in all likelihood he'll vanish off the face of the earth and I'll never hear from him again. Or maybe, just maybe...

My friend E first mentioned fixing me up with her fiance's friend a few months ago, but for a hundred reasons it got put off again and again. And, he's not big on blind dates, so we had to arrange a night when E and her fiance were free to go out with us. No exaggeration -- this has been going on for months, and for someone who goes on blind dates as often as she goes to Starbucks, that's a lot of build-up for a blind date. Turns out another friend of mine knows him too, and she also had a good feeling. This thing was getting some serious hype, and I was getting seriously nervous.

Still, I couldn't help thinking, maybe it's not such a bad thing to be out of my dating comfort zone. Sure, I'm more at ease in a regular blind date situation, with no chaperones/audience, and full control over where/when/how quickly I want to get out of there. But if you've been reading my blog, you may have noticed that that's not really working out so well for me. We are, after all, at NUMBER FORTY-NINE. That's A LOT of bad dates. So I started to enjoy the hype and the nerves. I bought new shoes. I might even confess to getting a little bit excited. I NEVER get excited about blind dates.

And, amazingly, it couldn't have gone better. Sure, it was a smidge awkward at the beginning, but nothing a couple of cocktails couldn't look after. All in all, dinner was relaxed, comfortable and fun. Bachelor #49 was smart, charming, funny, engaging, confident, and sophisticated, yet warm, open and sincere. And it didn't hurt that he's dark haired, sexy, and successful too. Check, check, check, check. I'm not one to kiss and tell the Internet, so I won't go into details here ... but let's just say it was truly a lovely evening.

If there is any kindness in this universe with my name on it, he will call. If not, there's going to be a hell of a pity party, so think good thoughts for me.

Stay tuned...

Bachelor #47

When my friend S met Bachelor #47 online, she quickly realized he was more my demographic than hers, so she passed him along. I think I may have reached a new low: I'm now taking hand-me-down dates from my friends.

But according to S, Bachelor #47 was cute, funny, Jewish, successful, and very interesting to talk to. She did warn, however, that he's JUST A LITTLE opinionated. No problem, I thought. Who isn't A LITTLE opinionated? I've been known to voice an opinion of my own now and then. I can take him.

So he called, and indeed, he was quite the conversationalist. Somehow we got on the topic of religion, which he VERY ADAMANTLY does not believe in. Yup, he's got opinions. Fortunately I tend to lean the same way on that topic, so that was OK. I told him I'm not religious either and don't keep kosher, except for a teeny bit of leftover brainwashing from childhood that makes all things pork-related completely unappealing.

Well, Bachelor #47 was having none of that! He was going to cure me of my silly 40-year-strong brainwashing once and for all. And so for our first date, I agreed to let him take me Pork Hopping.

Yes, you heard it hear first, folks. PORK HOPPING. Couldn't make it up if I tried. You've heard of bar hopping, where you hit a bunch of bars in one night? Well, Pork Hopping is sort of like that, only with a lot more saturated fat.

Here are the rules of Pork Hopping: Wherever we go, we can only order pork products. No carbs, no veggies, no sides. Just pork, all pork, all the time. And I have to at least try everything we order. Man, am I a good sport.

For our first stop, we went to a diner. He ordered two things: bacon, and back bacon. Mmm mmmm. In actuality bacon I can handle. But back bacon, on the other hand, YUCK. Still, it was all in good fun, so I tried it.

Then we went to a Greek place and ordered ... you guessed it ... pork souvlaki. No pita, no tzatziki, just pork-on-a-stick. I begged for a salad but he wasn't bending. I was getting the feeling bending wasn't something Bachelor #47 was especially good at.

Next stop was a steakhouse. Before he confiscated my menu, I saw that they had grilled shrimp and filet mignon and all kinds of things I actually LIKE, but oh lucky me, Bachelor #47 was taking care of the ordering: pork chops and ribs. Sure, lots of people like ribs and I'm sure someone out there actually likes pork chops, but I was really hungry by this point. I thought maybe he could let up a little on the gimmicky date and for the love of God, let me order a baked potato. Oh wait, forget the love-of-God thing, I'm out with a crazy ass atheist! Anyway, there was no such consession to be had. Bachelor #47 takes his pork very seriously. He was actually thrilled that I was starving because now I'd really get down to consuming some serious pork. Oh goody.

The thing about forcing people to do things they don't really want to do? Tends to backfire. By the end of dinner, I was so thoroughly disgusted by all that pork I don't think I'll ever go near it again. And we didn't even get to his last planned stop: a local deli for a ham and cheese. Thank whoever-atheists-thank-instead-of-God for that.

And as for Bachelor #47, pork chops weren't the only thing we didn't agree on. As expected, Mr. Opinionated Pants had unbending opinions I didn't happen to agree with on a lot of things. You know, like parenting and relationships. In fact, I think he could come up with a conflicting opinion to just about anything I said. Call me crazy, but I want a boyfriend, not a debating partner.

Still, I'll always think of him whenever I smell bacon.

Next.

Bachelor #42

Fixups are scary. You want to think you can trust your friends to fix you up with someone you're actually going to like, for better reason than simply because you're both single. You want to think they won't knowingly subject you to a blind date from hell. They're your friends, after all. They have your best interests at heart.


Or so you hope.


My friend H is going to get a serious talking to for this one.


She said she was at her neighbor's house when a friend of their family stopped by. After hanging out and getting to know him for, I don't know, a minute and a half, she decided to give him my number. Well that seems reasonable.

She said he seemed really nice. She said he was good looking. She said he seemed charming and interesting. If she had said he had wings and could fly, it would have been just as accurate.

When I walked into the bar and saw him standing there in his shiny disco shirt, it took every ounce of restraint not to turn and run. But I am a nice person. So I stayed. And this is what I found out about Bachelor #42:

- He is 43 and lives with his mother.
- He is unemployed, more often than not.
- In the place of communication, he rambles incoherently.
- Lookswise, well... what's that expression? Good from far, but far from good. Yeah, that's it.
- Did I mention he was wearing a shiny shirt?

Next.

Bachelor #5

Warning: SCARY DATE AHEAD

Since I am not very smart, I conveniently forgot about the Yellow Ski Jacket incident when my friend E suggested fixing me up with an old friend of hers. You will note no further postings of fixups from E.

In fairness, she did say he was a little short.

Here are the things she did not say:

1. He was not a little short. He was a lot short.
2. He weighs less than me. He also weighs less than the average Olsen twin.
3. He could easily be picked up and snapped in two. (See #2)
4. If you look up Nerdy Little Man in the dictionary, you will see Bachelor #5.
5. If you think he has the good sense to compensate for his looks with stylish attire, you are mistaken. I wore a cute little skirt and top with pretty sandals. He wore a Roots t-shirt, tucked into Dad Jeans. With running shoes.
6. If you think he has the good fortune to be able to compensate for his looks with his dynamic personality or sparkling wit, you guessed it. Wrong again. Personality? No evidence. Wit? 'Fraid not.

I decided in my head if I saw someone I knew I was going to introduce him as my cousin.

Dating Rule #2: if you are embarassed to be seen in public with your date, this is a bad sign.

Next.

Bachelor #1

In truth, I'm no stranger to dating. I spent large chunks of my 30s subjecting myself to far too many dates to remember. But that was then, when I was still terrified of marriage, deluded into thinking every single girl's life is like something out of Cosmo or Sex and the City, and actually excited about meeting new men.

Then I thought I met the one. OK, so he turned out to be quite possibly the most neurotic, barely functioning man on the planet. But he was pretty. And I'm not that smart. So it took me 3 1/2 years to come to my senses. But better late than never, right?

And so I'm back to dating, only this time the big 4-0 is looming. Fast. So I sent out feelers. My friend E had just the guy. He was tall, decent looking, successful and kind. And not neurotic, or at least not in an obvious way.

He showed up in a yellow ski jacket.

Next.