Putting the Aw in Awkward

Considering how much of my life must appear to be consumed with dating if you’ve read this blog for any length of time, it may startle some of you to know that I have other less extreme activities that take up my time. But given the ridiculous amount of dates that I’ve been on relatively recently, it was just a matter of time before this somewhat hazardous hobby spilled over into the rest of my world.

I’m getting ahead of myself as usual. My next date after being propositioned by a man technically old enough to be my father was with a cute young whippersnapper. Kurt* was ridiculously adorable – he looked like he should be in a boy band. Not the lead singer or that guy with the weird sideburns who can’t really sing and just speaks in a deep voice in a rhythmic manner, but the cute guitarist. And Kurt* actually was a musician. He played in a metal band.

Kurt* didn’t look like he belonged in a metal band at all. He had hair vaguely in the style of the Jonas Brothers and he was beyond clean cut. He could and did talk at length and without lacking in authority on the differences between metal and hard rock. He also didn’t drink at all, was vocally anti-drugs, and very much into healthy living. It was vaguely intriguing but a little off.

What was wrong was that he seemed so darn young. He was young enough to date my niece. At the time, my eldest niece who is only seven years my junior, was staying at my house. At some point during the date with Kurt*, I thought to myself how great I thought he would be for my niece. That’s when it became impossible for me to date him. For although apparently some men actually want to date women half their age plus seven years (google it – the fact that this theory is prevalent is for realsies not just the idea of a misguided few), the idea gives me the heebie jeebies. At that point in my life I wasn’t cut out to be a puma so I said goodbye to Kurt.* Notice that I didn’t say that I’ll never become a puma as I realize such a statement would ensure that my next date would be dangerously young and even as I write this I’m remembering the age of some of my exes in real life before I started this internet dating craziness so I’ll move on to the next thought.

Here’s where we get to the particular awkward moment that I referenced at the beginning of this post. One of my non-dating activities is volunteering at nursing homes with my dog. Its fun and he and I both dig it and the residents seem to as well. Basically we just go there and visit some of our regulars in their rooms, stop by the common areas, and spend time talking or just hanging out with the residents.

Anyway, I took my dog to the nursing home the night after my date with Kurt* and we met a new friend in the lobby. I hadn’t remembered meeting with Sharla* before but she kept saying she thought she knew me. As the residents have varying levels of mental coherency I just smiled at her and continued chatting away, coaxing my dog to do some tricks to entertain her. She became more insistent though, she definitely knew who I was and grabbing my name tag she stated authoritatively that I had in fact dated her grandson.

I assumed that she meant Kurt* as he was the most recent date I’d had; I started babbling embarrassed as she began asking me why I didn’t like her very nice grandson. I assured her that her grandson was great and a gentleman and that I wish that it had worked out, etc, etc. In the back of my mind I was a little freaked that I had only gone out with him once and that he had told his grandmother about me but I was becoming more and more embarrassed as she looked at me unflinchingly and asked again why I didn’t like her grandson. I assured her that Kurt* was a great guy and that maybe the age difference wasn’t that bad. At this point, things slid downward on the mortification scale as she asked me who the hell Kurt is. It turns out her grandson was Jim* who I had dated a few months prior (Jim being the slightly over-serious, loner, hiker, self-tattooer).

If I thought she was upset before, that was nothing compared to how she felt after she realized I had dated people after her darling grandson. Here I was a floozy, working my way through all the wonderfully sensitive gentlemen of the area and picking them off one by one, snubbing her grandson and not even remembering it right away. I hoped that the floor would open up and swallow me whole, but sadly I had to stand there and take my comeuppance shamefacedly while my dog became increasingly bored. I attempted to apologize again and shrank off into the building. I was going to go home at that point; chastised by a resident, I really just wanted to crawl under my covers and not come out. Thankfully I saw one of my regulars down the hall and decided to suck it up and press on. I can’t blame Sharla* for sticking up for her grandson, but I don’t blame myself either for not being in love with Jim.*

Next up, Blinky McStaresalot and a Tale of Two Professors. Or at least I’ll tell the tale of one – I might have to give the main professor his own post all to himself.
*Name has been changed