Thursday, June 26, 2014

The Undateable Epilogue: Bonus Content


Now that I have regaled you with the tales of my dating hall of shame, I'd like to make an attempt at redeeming myself just a little.  It would appear as though I have matured a bit in the last decade, maybe....probably.  As I sat, most likely watching Bravo, waiting for the new episode of the Real Housewives of Wherever, my phone chirps to alert me that I had just received a text message.  The following is a paraphrased text conversation that took place the evening of June 16, 2014.....between "Guy" and me:

5:38 PM - "Guy":  Hey, what's new?  Haven't heard from you.

5:46 PM - Me:  Hey "Guy".  How are you?

5:53 PM - "Guy":  I'm good, how are you

5:54 PM - "Guy":  Where have u been hiding
5:54 PM - Me:  I'm good, too.
5:56 PM - Me:  Lol, I haven't been hiding, just working and hanging at home, yard work and such.

5:56 PM - "Guy":  I figured you weren't interested

5:59 PM - Me:  You seem like a very sweet man but I just don't think we have anything in common.

5:59 PM - "Guy":  Oh I see

6:00 PM - "Guy":  I tend to agree

6:01 PM - Me:  I really hope you have luck with Match and find someone you gel with.  I've decided to stay out of the dating "game", lol.

6:01 PM - "Guy":  Ok, good luck

6:02 PM - Me:  Thanks again for dinner and the movie

6:02 PM - "Guy":  No problem

.....and.....end scene.  *takes a deep bow*

Do I really think he seemed like a sweet man?  Maybe in a creepy, awkward sort of way.  There were a couple of times between 5:59 and 6:01 that I had typed out a pseudo-apology for not calling or texting him but then decided that I didn't really care enough and I wasn't sorry that I didn't contact him after our date.  In comparison to the way I handled Lego Man and "Randy", I think I did a pretty decent job of handling myself.  Whether or not he really agreed with the two of us not having anything in common, well, I'm glad he agrees....I don't really care one way or the other.

I Am Undateable – The Prequel, Part III

So now you know that I have been a horrible person and totally blew off a nice guy for a completely asinine reason.  Then got my just desserts when the same thing was done to me, except it really wasn’t an asinine reason on his part, if we’re just being honest.  Time to wrap this bitch up with the final chapter.

Same ole, same ole…..finishing off this pre-paid eHarmony membership.  Getting more matches with the increased search radius, trying to get beyond my staunch determination to find someone who lives in the same county as me.  It didn’t take long for me to get past the rejection from Sanitation Joe, probably because even though I really liked him, we only had the one date.  There wasn’t a lot invested.  Moving on.

Undateable #3:
 

We’ll call this one “Randy” because it rhymes with his actual name and I’m running out of creative pseudonyms and he didn’t have any outstanding characteristics that I could call upon.  He lived in Chicago but was originally from Arizona.  He was nice looking, very sweet and always willing to travel to my area.  eHarmony communication….yadda yadda….we decided it was a good time to have a first date.  He asked what kind of restaurants I liked and we decided to go to Tumbleweed.  He picked me up at the apartment, at least this time the boy was at his father’s for the weekend so if “Randy” showed up in a pleather gimp mask wielding a machete, at least I would be the only one in harm’s way.  He rang the doorbell, we hugged hello and drove over to Tumbleweed for a nice dinner.

We had good conversation; we was intelligent and could hold up his end of a conversation.  I never felt like I had to stifle my big word syndrome, he always knew what I was talking about….or was at least good at faking it.  After dinner, he drove me home, walked me to my door and we hugged goodbye.  It was a pleasant date and I left it feeling not uncomfortable, open to a second date, even.  And we did just that.

He called the next day, we agreed that we had a nice time and would like to see each other again.  He suggested that, this time, he would drive up again and make dinner for me.  I said that sounded wonderful and I’d pick up a movie or two to watch afterward.  The boy was once again at his father’s so we had the apartment to ourselves.  When he arrived, he had everything ready to go.  He had me show him around my tiny galley-style kitchen, instructed me to go relax on the couch and got to work.  He put his homemade vegetable lasagna in the oven to warm up, uncovered and dressed the salad and sliced the baguette.  While the lasagna was in the oven, he set the table, opened the bottle of sparkling grape juice and, during all of this, we were having a delightful conversation.  What he didn’t know was that, all the while this was going on, I was liking him a bit less with each passing minute.  When everything was ready, we sat at my cherry finished forest green tile-top table and ate what turned out to be a really good, but last, meal for us.

After dinner, I went into the kitchen to do the dishes and he insisted that he would take care of it.  He was letting the lasagna pan soak and said he could pick it up next time (um, I suppose I was giving off “next time” vibes even though I knew there wouldn’t be a next time).  We watched whatever movie I rented….I find it odd that I don’t remember, I usually always remember those trivial details, but, whatever.  He held my hand and was a complete gentleman the entire night.  When the movie was over, I said I would wash the rest of the dishes….the ones he brought with him…and he said, “Nah, don’t worry about it,” and smiled.  I walked him out to his car, gave him a peck on the cheek and hugged him goodbye.  He just didn’t know that it a final goodbye.

I again handled the situation like a juvenile and never spoke to him again, even though he called and left a handful of messages over the course of the weeks that followed.  This time, unlike with Lego Man, I felt bad.  He was really a nice guy.  It was my weird, undateble hang-ups that put the nail in the coffin for this would-be relationship.  I think it was the feeling of him trying too hard, even though everything he did was perfect.  Any normal woman would have been head-over-heels if a new man in her life did that for her.  But not me, oh no, not me.  To this day, I truly hope that “Randy” found the love of his life, because he was one of the good ones.

Synopsis

So, that brings this trilogy to a close.  Boy, those stories ended up to be less funny as they progressed.  I hope I still have an audience and haven’t driven anyone away in anger or depression with my serial bad dating habits.  I’m really not a cold-hearted bitch.  Looking back at these experiences really does confirm that I am undateable.  But it’s not them, it’s me.  And I’m ok with that.  I’m not one of those “I don’t need a man to complete me” women, I don’t hate men.  I’m not angry at men or bitter that I’m not in a relationship.  Analyzing my most recent dating experience just shows me that, although I was glad to go through the experience, I really am happier being single – and not out in the dating world.  I know women who have lived a large part of their adult lives without the company of a man and wouldn’t have done it any other way.  I have now joined their ranks.  Should that change in the future, that’s ok too, but I’ve concluded my search.  Now, onto building my army of cats to segue into the lifestyle of the crazy spinster cat lady.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Aging Ungracefully: In the Words of my Mom

I'm delighted to welcome a guest speaker to my blog today.  She can really tell a story and thankfully, it seems it may be hereditary.  Aging is inevitable and with it, comes a battery of "life experiences" that you can either wallow in and resign yourself to become "elderly" -or- you can choose to swear at yourself, laugh and get on with living.  It helps if you have someone to relay these adventures in aging to, a good audience, if you will.  Ladies and gentleman....I'd like to introduce you to my mom (I do have pictures of her but I fear that if I put it up here on the interwebs, she would never speak to me again so here's a picture what I anticipate I'll look like at my mother's age....awesome):

This is NOT my mother.....
 
Aging Ungracefully 
by Gloria Mentecki

              Just to be clear; until my daughter started her own blog I didn’t really know anything about “blogs” and wasn’t interested in learning.  At my age learning something new only makes me want to lie down.  There isn’t enough room in my brain to try and stuff more in there.  As it is, if I try to do that it means something has to go and my memory isn’t what it used to be; after all I am going on 73. 

               So with those facts in mind and (ugh) knowing how old I am I’d like to tell you how it is to get old.  Mind you, in my head, I’m still 16.  Periodically I’m brought down to earth like when someone calls me Ma’am, or if someone offers to help me up a flight of stairs, or if I can’t remember a really hard word like “flat” or the name of a flower (all yellow flowers are now called “yellies"), or the name of those things that surround a word in a sentence: ( ), etc. 

               With these things in mind I feel compelled to tell you about something that happened to me yesterday.  I was sitting on the love seat watching TV when I heard the UPS truck pull up (yes it has a special sound like my grandson’s car has a special sound).  I lifted myself up a little (that required more strength than you know) and turned to look out the window.  I was right, it was the UPS truck and the UPS guy was getting out, walking towards my house carrying a rather large Styrofoam package which I recognized as my prescriptions being delivered from my mail order pharmacy. 

               My ex, who lives downstairs, usually retrieves anything from UPS and brings it upstairs but I didn’t know if he was home.  So I hefted myself off the love seat and walked to my apartment door with the intention of going down the stairs to get the package myself.  I have to admit that I’m slow owing to two knee replacements (let’s not even consider being overweight). 

               I opened my apartment door and began my descent when I heard voices and realized that it was the ex talking to the UPS guy.  I should have just gone back upstairs and let him bring the package up but I heard the ex say he thought he heard my door close.  Knowing that he knew I was coming downstairs I decided against going back up (it seemed sneaky somehow).  I continued my descent slowly…it takes longer to go down the stairs than it takes to climb up.  Don’t ask me why it just does.  I remember in the days past that I could take the steps two at a time.  When was that anyway; too long ago to remember, but I digress. 

               My stairway curves to the left for the bottom three steps and I negotiated them successfully (Thought I was going to say that I fell didn’t you?) and landed on the approach in front of the ex’s door.  I turned to the left to retrieve my package, forgetting that there was one more step down to the door.  I knew I had made an error when I stepped off that step to nothing but air.  I think I made some kind of guttural sound as I fell to my knees (oh no!  My artificial knees!)  In that millisecond I pictured bones sticking out through my skin.  Now I know why folks say their lives passed before their eyes.  The brain works in mysterious ways. 

                  I threw my arms out in front of myself to try and break my fall and landed hard on my stomach with a loud “oof” as the weight of the fall inadvertently expelled my breath from my lungs. The ex slammed back against the open door to get out of my way.  I must have also skidded forward because I landed right at Mr. UPS’s feet.  For all I know he may have had to take a step back.  As I righted myself to sit on the top step of the basement steps I heard that word associated with age..are you alright Ma’am?!!! 

               Too humiliated and embarrassed to look at Mr. UPS, I mumbled something unintelligible that must have indicated I was OK because Mr. UPS said “take care” and the ex took my package upstairs.  I sat there wondering how the hell I was going to get up when the ex came back downstairs and asked me if I could get up by myself.  I responded “no” meekly and he came over in front of me to help me stand up.  Now the humiliation of all humiliations...it took him 2 tries to get me up!   It must have been quite an eye opener for him to realize how heavy I had gotten. 

               So that’s one of the perks of getting old.  Get ready for humiliation and embarrassment; they come with the territory.  By the way, I didn’t break anything, no skinned knees, and I didn’t even have a bruise except, of course, my ego.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

I Am Undateable – The Prequel, Part II

I hope you are enjoying these glimpses into my awkward dating history.  It’s entertaining to recount them, because they seem so long ago….and also kind of like they happened to someone else.  Oh, and I have no problem laughing at myself.  Now, on with the show.

Again, this was during the same eHarmony period of 2001.  With Lego Man in my past, I was optimistic about new possibilities.  I couldn’t see myself dating more than one guy at a time, seemed like too much work.  I did expand my search criteria from 20 miles to 50, just to open it up a bit.  eHarmony suggested I do that since my other must-haves were allegedly “limiting” my potential matches.  Geez, eHarmony, I’m sorry I want a guy who doesn’t spend his weekends binge-drinking and kicking puppies.
Undateable #2:
 
 

We’ll call this one “Sanitation Joe” because he was a garbage man.  He was very cute but outside of what I considered to be “my type”, but I was quickly learning that I really didn’t know what “my type” was.  He lived in Illinois, outside of Gurnee.  After the scripted communication was out of the way, we found that we had some things in common.  He was divorced and into video games, what a coincidence!  We decided to meet and he thought it sounded like fun to invite the boy and me to come and visit and he would treat us to Chuck E. Cheese.  I said that sounded great (of course all I had to do was mention Chuck and the boy was in).  I MapQuested his address and it was a date.

I shoved a bunch of change into the cup holder of my New Beetle and set off to brave the toll ways of I-94.  Following a poorly printed MapQuest while driving to an unfamiliar place without a confident navigator is not recommended.  But we made it and he invited us up into his apartment (again….was I so ignorant of the possibility of ending up handcuffed to a chair in his basement while he tried to teach my son the fine art of serial killing?) while he grabbed his keys so we could get going.  We got to Chuck E. Cheese, placed a pizza order, gave the boy a cup full of tokens and sent him off to play.  We found a table where I could always have my eyes on the boy and embarked on first-date chatter.  He was nice, even through good ole Chuck “forgetting” to make our pizza and the boy returning several times for a token re-load.  After we finally got our pizza, we ate and then left, heading back to his place.

He invited us back upstairs and we obliged.  He showed us his newest Xbox game, Manhunt, where you can kill your enemy using a plastic grocery bag (no red flag there).  Then he asked the boy if he wanted to try out his flight simulator on his computer, which was in another room, and after he showed him what to do, we went out into the kitchen to have a cigarette.  He shared a bit more about his divorce, telling me that his ex-wife had mental issues…blah, blah, blah.  I was feeling really comfortable, I kinda liked this guy.  So of course, I overshare.  Boy, did I scare him off!

It was time to leave and since it was dark, he did the gentlemanly thing and offered to drive to I-94 so I could follow in my car without getting lost.  He even asked me to give him a call once we got home, so he knew we made it home safely.  We got home, the boy went to sleep (he had a great time) and I called Sanitation Joe to let him know we were home and to thank him for a nice time.

After that, I waited a couple of days and having not heard from him, I gave him a call.  It was now my turn to reap what I sowed.  He never took another call from me.  I think I left him two or three messages, nothing creepy or stalkerish, just reaching out to say thanks again and see if he wanted to do out again.  I was clueless.  It’s only hindsight that, all these years later, I understand that my inappropriate oversharing ended any potential blossoming relationship between Sanitation Joe and me.  Hell, he had just gotten away from one psycho bitch, he wasn’t about to get into that s**t again!  Lesson learned….don’t disclose the really crazy stuff until after you’ve hooked them with sex.  Just kidding (kind of).
And that brings this chapter to a close.  Tune in next time for the conclusion of I Am Undateable – The Prequel, a Trilogy.

Thursday, June 12, 2014

I Am Undateable – The Prequel, Part I

So after I blogged last time about my uncomfortable venture into the dating world, I got to thinkin’….the writing was on the wall long ago but apparently through time and ill-correcting glasses, I could no longer read it.  I’ve been undateable pretty much my entire adult life.  Joining Match last December was my second foray into online dating.  Back in 2001, I had a brief but eventful membership to eHarmony.  I thought it might be fun to relive those dates via a #TBT blog post about my first attempt at online dating.  Here we go!  (Did anyone else say that in their heads in the voice of Mario in Super Nintendo Super Mario Kart?)

I’ll set the scene…..it was the spring of 2001.  Texting hadn’t really caught on yet, Netzero internet connection was dial-up and Napster was still a legal place to get free music, even if it did take three hours to add “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womack to your WinAmp playlist.  I was 25, recently divorced and single-parenting the boy, who was a rambunctious 6 years old.  I found myself wondering if I would ever find a good guy.  Enter eHarmony.

Undateable #1:
Expecto Patro...ugh, whatever (photo courtesy of collider.com)
 

I’ll call him “Lego Man” because, well...you’ll see.  He was a normal looking guy, successful at a young age, even owing his very own house in the same suburb where I rented my apartment at the time.  He even had a projection TV….wow, cool.  We exchanged a number of messages on the website because the way eHarmony worked (maybe it still does, I'll never know), you had to get through several levels of structured “communication” before you were allowed to exchange regular, personal messages with someone.  He was very nice, sweet even.  I agreed that it was time to meet and he suggested that we take the boy to go see Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.  My infatuation with all things Harry Potter was in its infancy at the time but I thought that sounded like a nice idea, so I agreed.  He picked me up at my apartment (apparently I was completely unconcerned about safety at the time?) and he drove the three of us to the theater.  The movie had only been out a week or so and the theater was completely full but we were able to find three seats together and got comfy for the two and a half hour movie.  Now, I hadn’t read the book yet, but Lego Man had and he was truly excited to see the big screen interpretation.  He was a bit too chatty, but at least he was quiet about it….until he laughed….loudly and at seemingly inappropriate times during the film.  Seriously, there were a number of occasions where he was the only one laughing – loudly – and people were turning around in their seats to look (embarrassing).  At least the boy was young enough not to sink down in his seat, mortified by the disproportionate outbursts of his mother’s date.
 
So, the movie ended and he drove us home and asked if he could use the bathroom.  Sure, what’s the harm in that, c’mon in, awkward laughing guy.  He used the bathroom and came out to see the boy building with Lego in the living room as I sat on the plush forest green loveseat.  He proclaims, “I LOVE Lego!” and then sits on the floor to join in the plasticky building fun.  The boy shot me a quick glance, I kind of shrugged and for the next hour, they played with Lego – on my living room floor – while I sat there wondering how I could politely ask him to leave. 

By this time, it was getting late, probably close to 11:00 PM, so I told the boy it was time to go to bed.  I was so hopeful that Lego Man would take that opportunity to get a clue and ready himself for an exit upon my return.  No such luck.  I got back into the living room and he had made himself comfortable on the loveseat.  I sat down next to him.  For the love of Pete, I don’t know why I didn’t just stay standing, thank him for the movie, walk him over to the door and say good night.  But I didn’t.  He was suddenly all over me like an 8 year old boy on Pok√©mon cards (ok, it was a relevant simile at the time).  He was attempting to initiate a make-out session worthy of a high school freshman left alone in his parents’ basement with his girlfriend, unsure of how long they’d be gone.  It felt hurried and awkward and it was yucky.  I ended it just as he shot for second base by pulling away and saying, “If you think you’re about to get lucky, you’re not.”  He laughed uncomfortably and mumbled something about feeling tired anyway and he finally left.

Of course, that wasn’t the last time I heard from him.  I was apparently irresistible because he started a chain of phone calls the next day.  Thank goodness for caller ID.  I am ashamed (albeit only a tiny bit) to admit that I just never spoke to him again.  I guess I wasn’t woman enough to just tell him that I wasn’t interested.  The calls died off after a couple of weeks.  That was the end of that.
See, there really wasn’t anything wrong with him, in the grand scheme of life but all it took was a little inappropriate laughter in a public place for me to mentally cross him off my list of potential life-mates.  Am I picky?  Probably.  But sometimes, maybe not picky enough….but that’s a story for another time.  Stay tuned for Part II of the Undateable – The Prequel, a Trilogy.

Saturday, June 7, 2014

I Am Undateable

Yes, I am undateble....and I feel just fine about it.  No, no one told me that I am not dateable.  I came to this understanding all on my own at approximately 7:53 PM last night.  Let me tell you a story....this is a true story....names and places have been changed to protect the awkward and still-dating.....

I have made it no secret that I've ventured into the world of online dating, most recently having joined Match last December.  It wasn't very fruitful yet I wouldn't call it a disaster.  About a month ago, I decided that I would not be renewing my membership at the end of the six months, even if they did offer their additional six months free per their guarantee.  I have struck up a friendship with a very nice man that I still chat with once or twice a week, most often over text message.  There were others, but the few that I had off-Match contact with via text have turned out to be people that I had no interest in getting to know let alone meet in person (except for my out-of-state friend, he's a cool guy).

I had all but forgotten about Match until I was cleaning out my email a few nights ago and came across an automated email from Match letting me know that I had a new message in my Match Inbox.  These emails include the profile picture of the dater (if they have one posted) and message they sent.  It was sent on May 30th, so about a week before I actually read it.  He was a pleasant looking man in his early 40's and his message was simple and friendly.  I took a chance and clicked the button to reply, not even knowing if my paid membership was still active.  It was, so I replied and said that if he was still interested, perhaps we could exchange numbers and get to know one another a bit.  He replied, giving me his number, name and an idea of when we is generally free, asking that I give him a call.  We'll call him "Guy", because he's a guy.

I sent Guy a text later that day, letting him know that I wouldn't be logging onto Match anymore but I received his message and wanted him to have my number, so he would know it was me calling later on.  He responded saying that he actually would be busy, he is on a bar sports league (ugh really?), and instead of calling later (this was a Thursday afternoon) to chat, maybe we could just meet for dinner tomorrow (Friday).  I was caught off guard, I hadn't even gotten a chance to get to know anything about him yet; I replied by asking what he had in mind.  He mentioned a couple of places in the area and, completely out of character, I agreed.  Full disclosure time.....because of some of the previous experiences I had with other shady characters from Match, I paid for a reverse cell search through Spokeo....and it worked, I was presented with his full name, age and last known address.  I was able to loosely confirm that he was who he was representing on Match, at least according to Spokeo and with State Circuit Court records website (no hits on Facebook or Twitter, that I could find...for him anyway).  Hey, no shame here, a girl's gotta have a safety-first attitude!  It was because of this that, even though it made me extremely anxious, I agreed to meet him for a first date.

We were meeting for dinner at 6pm on Friday at a place I'll call "Parraba's Mediterranean Grill".  He mentioned in out short text conversation that, if we were having a good time, maybe we could even go see a movie after dinner.  We agreed to meet outside the restaurant, because let's be honest, who wants to take the chance of being stood up when you're already seated.  He was punctual and arrived at 5:59 pm, as I was waiting on a bench outside the restaurant.  He looked just like his picture so, no surprises there.  After we awkwardly confirmed that he was Guy and I was me, he smiled, said it was nice to meet me and shook my hand.  I was surprised that we didn't have to wait for a table and as soon as we were seated, we scanned the menu over small, inconsequential talk and ordered when the waiter arrived to greet us.  With that out of the way, we were free to commence the process known as "getting to know each other".

From Match (and the circuit court site), I already knew that he was divorced and had a child.  We took turns telling each other what we do for a living and a bit about our backgrounds like where we graduated high school.  I asked about his child and he was forthcoming and gave me the first twinge of red-flaggedness when he spoke with malice in his eyes about his ex-wife.  I won't go into detail because that's their business and of little consequence to my story but I will say that used the words "financially raped" when describing the divorce settlement.  He asked me how long I'd been married and how long I'd been divorced and, despite everything Patti Stanger teaches her daters on Millionaire Matchmaker, I gave him the short and polite version of the story ending it with the fact that I now have a mutually polite co-parenting relationship with my ex, which gets easier as our boy ages into true adulthood.  We talked about what we enjoy doing for fun and I learned that he really enjoys to do things that I avoid like the plague, such as festivals, sporting events and playing team sports.  So, I was slowly finding out that perhaps we don't have much in common.  We discussed movies and I found out that he dislikes my favorite genre, possession and supernatural horror (can I get WHAT-WHAT for The Conjuring!?  I've watched the HELL outta that movie lately).  I told him that I also enjoy video games and he admitted that he hadn't played a video game since the days of Super Mario Bros.  Yeah, not really much in common at all.

At the close of dinner (he paid before I could even offer to contribute, I said a whole-hearted thank you), he enjoyed our time together enough to suggest that we go see a movie.  I said, "This is going to sound like an excuse, but, the dash lights in my car don't work, so I really would like to be home before dark."  This is true information.  He offered to follow me so I could drive my car home and then he would drive us to the movie theater.  Other than not having much in common, I didn't get any creeper vibes or danger flags from him, so I decided that would be ok and I agreed.  I dropped off my car, stashed my leftovers in the fridge and went out to get in his car; he was not invited into my house.  We decided to go to the "Bridge" Cinema in "Old Berlin" and see A Million Ways to Die in the West, with Seth MacFarlane (funny guy, Family Guy is adequately amusing but I loved Ted, of course Mark Wahlberg helped).  The parking lot was, of course, packed, but we found a spot and got out of the car.  We had to walk over a small grassy boulevard to get to the entrance and he reached his hand out as I stepped up and I thought it was just to give me support as I stepped over but he wanted to hold my hand (awkward).  We went in and again, he was already paying before I could even open my purse.  I thanked him again.  We arrived just in time to catch the last couple preview trailers (is it redundant to say "preview" trailers?)   Side note: As Above, So Below looks to be my kind of movie...added to the list.

We find a seat a few rows up and settle into the two seat on the aisle.  It was playing in one of the smaller rooms at that theater but the seats were quite comfortable.  By this time, it was probably about 7:40 pm and the movie began.  I was clutching my purse to my abdomen as I sat there watching the movie.  This served a dual purpose.  It kept my mind at ease that my purse and its contents were safe and it kept my hands occupied and out of reach while keeping my body in a comfortable yet "don't touch me" position.  About ten minutes into the movie, I discovered much to my dismay that we were sitting in a pair of seats that featured a middle arm rest that could flip up, so that's what he did....and scooched a bit closer to me (more awkward).  He then leaned over and whispered, "You know, you can put your purse down."  I replied, "But it's expensive."  I reluctantly placed my purse in the empty seat next to me but kept my left hand on it.

At approximately 7:53 pm, he put his left arm around me (even more awkward) and began rubbing my shoulder (is this really happening right now?).  I didn't want to be rude so I allowed it, keeping the rest of my body as far to the left of him as I could without hurting myself.  He would also occasionally take his right hand and rub my right shoulder (seriously? we just met a couple hours ago).  There were a couple of anxious moments where I was sure he was going in for a right boob grab, but if he was, he thought better of it and, thankfully, that never happened.  At two or three points during the first 45 minutes of this arm-around, shoulder-rubbing activity, he put his hand on my head and kind of "pet" my hair (huh?).  I gotta  tell ya', the first time his hand went to my head, I had a flash of panicked "Holy shit, is this guy going to try and push my head into his lap???" but fortunately for him and everyone in the theater, it was just a really awkward hair pet.  The theater was warm, I was getting sweaty and uncomfortable with this guy's arm around me and almost the worst thing in the world happened....he put his right hand on the side of face, turned my face toward him and kissed me - on the mouth.  I didn't allow that to happen a second time.  He got up to make a concession stand run about an hour into the movie and I was glad for the reprieve.  I scooted back to the far left in my seat and rested my head against the back of my seat.  He returned and initially seemed content to just hold my hand, but shortly thereafter, the arm/shoulder/hair pet business resumed (holy hell, how long is this f*n movie?).  There were no more attempts at kissing.

He drove me home and as he pulled up across the street from my house, I resisted the urge to open the door and roll out before the car came to a complete stop.  He put the car in park and I could feel him looking at me.  I unfastened my seat belt, turned to look in his direction and immediately started stammering thank you's for the dinner and movie.  I apparently thanked him so much in that 30 second time span that said I didn't need to keep thanking him.  He leaned in for a kiss, he ended up with a very quick peck on the lip and as he was gearing up to lean in for more, I turned and said, "Well, thanks again, I'm going to go in now.  I'll talk to you soon, thanks."  I don't know why I let him even plant that peck on me or why on Earth I babbled that I would "talk to him soon".  Probably out of the extreme feeling of awkwardness and uncomfortableness I was feeling.  I didn't look back but I'm pretty sure he drove off before I even got to my front sidewalk....and that was perfectly fine with me.  My hope is that he felt the lack of connection and just doesn't contact me again.  If he does, I will politely let him know that I just don't think we have enough in common and wish him well in his search for love.

So, here it is, the next day.  I'm glad I went because it was definitely an experience I needed...if only to confirm my suspicion that I don't really want to date.  THAT is why I'm undateable.  Because I don't want to be dateable.  In retrospect, I can't imagine feeling comfortable with that much physical contact on a first date with anyone.  Well, except maybe if it was a first date with Zac Efron.  Or Gillian Anderson.


Zac courtesy of socialitelife.com and Gillian courtesy of celebmafia.com
Thanks, interwebs!