Throwing myself back into Match, I encountered a series of guys made me want to kick my own ass for not being into Phil.* Most would start out looking pretty good, but then a warning sign would pop up. These weren’t even subtle; an example of such a sign was a picture of one of the better prospects at the firing range, aiming the gun straight at the camera. I also got a lot of very earnest emails from gentlemen who didn’t have the best writing skills but wanted to assure me that they were looking for some serious, long-term commitments. I just found it difficult to engage them in conversation when in an introductory email my first couple of questions to a prospective are usually asking them questions relating to the information on their profile or how they spend their spare time and the first question one of these guys asked me in an introductory email was if I was “mature enough to commit to a stable relationship.”
I did start chatting with one that seemed really promising right before I went on a trip with my sister and our niece. This guy was an environmental economist (still not sure exactly what that meant) who was finishing up his doctoral studies. He looked pretty attractive in his photos, liked rockclimbing, and could carry on a decent email conversation. We made plans to meet when I got back from my trip but sadly another girl snagged him up first and he broke off our first date before it even happened. This happens fairly frequently – if there are any remotely desirable guys on a site, its almost like you need to arrange a first date immediately because if you don’t there are more women waiting in the wings who aren’t afraid to move with gusto.
The next guy from Match was also one that I didn’t meet in real life but that was a conscious decision on my part. He also was attractive but the caption for his profile was “want some sweet honey?” which made sense later when I saw that he was an amateur beekeeper. In his initial email to me he explained that he knew many things that he would do to me with honey. He also said he had a 16-month old son who he was anxious for me to meet. While the Seductive Beekeeper may be an awesome subject for one of those supermarket romance novels, I was more than a little creeped out by his approach. We hadn’t really spoken at all let alone met, yet in his first email he feels comfortable enough for me to meet his child and to offer to do unspeakable things to me with honey. Yuck on both accounts. I haven’t dated many guys with kids before but most seem to have brains enough to understand that they really should make sure that they know the woman well enough and care enough about her to introduce her into their children’s lives. On the honey thing, at that point I really hadn’t been propositioned that blatantly or oddly right off the bat and had no idea how to handle it other than ignoring the guy. That sort of approach would become more common once I joined a free dating website but at the time when I was approached by the beekeeper, it was my first really disconcerting pick-up line (note: now that enough time has passed, I have to say that I think Seductive Beekeeper would be an awesome name for a band or maybe a dance troupe).
What beats the Seductive Beekeeper in my bizarre little dating game? Answer: the angry midget. Not only did I meet the angry midget in real life but we actually dated for a few months. So here’s where I have to go for some truth in advertising and admit that technically he was not a midget. He was just a full head or more shorter than me (I’m about 5’5” if that helps with the visual). His defining character trait wasn’t even all that angry now that I think about it – it was more condescending and ultra-indie.
Now that I’ve admitted that Michael* was neither angry nor a midget I know I’ve disappointed some of you so let me make it up to you by describing some of our time together. We first met at a trendy new Latin place downtown; he was sitting on a stool at the bar (note: impossible to see how much shorter than you a guy is if he is already seated at a barstool). Anyway, we had some very pleasant beverages, a tasty dinner, and what was even more unusual we had an engaging and fun conversation. When we walked out together I was a little thrown by his height in relation to mine, but I had fun with him and I wasn’t going to underestimate the importance of that.
As the weeks went by I started to notice a couple of things. We didn’t really have actual give-and-take conversations. What we had was “The Michael Show” where he would perform various witty monologues about some band he had just heard, or the movie that I had to see, or the book I had to read and occasionally he would pause long enough for me to comment. I was merely making a cameo appearance on “The Michael Show;” the role I was playing wasn’t even enough to be considered a guest star. I also noticed that we really only had fun when we were drinking. A drink on a date can be a good thing; if you’re nervous, a sip or two can help you loosen up and make you a little less self-conscious. But if you can’t have fun together without it, that’s definitely a bad thing.
While I was discovering those facts, I also found that “The Michael Show” didn’t feature anything mainstream. If there was a movie or a band that more than a fringe group of people liked, it was conventional and boring. He had no time for anything that was enjoyable to a nebulous yet all-encompassing group known as “the masses.” He had practiced Bikram yoga until it became too popular. He had liked bands like O.A.R. until too many people started liking them. Any food or book or play or anything that I mentioned liking was far too conventional and ordinary for his extraordinary tastes.
That started to wear on me after a bit, but what sounded the final bell for me was when I realized that “The Michael Show” really was a one-man show that had no time for me, my friends, or his friends to compete for any of the spotlight or airtime. This happened on our last date when we went to a wine festival with some of my friends and we were too meet some of his friends there. He brought virtually no money with him so I ended up paying for everything. Actually he did have some money on him but he used that to buy a hat for himself. The wine festival was illuminating as I saw him make no attempt to talk with my friends. It wasn’t even because he was so engrossed with his own crowd or with me; he really just kept a steady stream of monologues that we were all just supposed to laugh at and enjoy, without really contributing anything else.
The final nail in the coffin was when we went back to his house after dropping my friends off at their home. He was giving me the tour of his new house and when we got to the guestroom he asked me in what seemed to be an ominous voice if I wanted to see what was in his closet. Now as anyone who has watched a horror movie will realize, that is when you run like crazy, screaming all the way. I backed up in apprehension and violently shook my head from left to right saying that I did not in fact want to see what was in his closet. He disregarded my unease and flung open to the door to reveal an almost 3ft high carafe with what looked like murky pond water and crap floating around in it. Trying not to vomit in my own mouth, I backed out of the room while he explained that it was Chinese fermented tea that he makes himself and bottles and that it was chock full of probiotic bacteria or something else that was supposed to be very good for me. He had a bottle he wanted us to drink and another for me to take home. I was already down the stairs with an eye on the front door saying that I was full from the wine festival and would have to forego that wonderful treat.
That was our last date. I had no desire to see him again and I think I was far too conventional to be of interest to him. I hope that he found his indie chic who only liked arthouse movies and music that sounds like someone is backing over a cat with a tractor and I hope that she has a powerful thirst for bacteria-laden beverages. I also hope that she doesn’t like to wear high heels.
Next up on my recap of match will be the stalker and my week of 1,000 guys (ok, I exaggerate slightly: it was really four dates and one set-up where I was to meet 3 potentials).
*Name has been changed
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