Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Find me a Blowtorch

If I don’t get the lead out and get a new site to try or the courage/stupidity to try one of the MANY dating sites I’ve already tried, this may be one of my last posts.  I must confess that my most recent two encounters (the latter being Glen* the golfer, the other you’ve yet to hear his story) have left me a little gun shy. 

But back in the spring of 2010 I was still raring to go and that was what found me emailing a guy that I not only had never met but my friend that was setting us up had also never met him.  This matchmaker friend and I have somewhat similar tastes and she knew the things I was looking for in a guy (stick fighting a plus, ability to do own housework essential).  She had met a fantastic guy at work but he was a bit older.  Ok he was old enough to be one of our dads.  This guy sounded awesome though; they had the best conversations and really connected.  Wonder upon wonders, he had a son our age who wasn’t having any luck meeting lovely young ladies in the area.  It seemed like a perfect fit.  The silver fox described his son in fairly glowing terms and it didn’t seem any crazier than talking to the freaks I meet on the internet, so I said she could give Chip* my email address.

We emailed for a while and that went okay.  He seemed a little shy at first but gradually we had some good conversations going over email.  We eventually decided to meet up for a drink.  When I walked into the bar I have to admit that he didn’t make the best first impression.  He had on a sweatshirt that had a few stains on the front, work jeans, and old sneakers.  Within the first two minutes he breaks the ice by telling me that he’s not a good conversationalist.  It’s really hard to make a conversation go anywhere good from there particularly when he was being honest.  He was a horrible conversationalist.  For the first few minutes of the date, he gave minimal answers to questions and didn’t seem interested in anything that I had to say.  And then it got worse.

I tried to work with the “I’m not a good conversationalist” comment; I teased him and said I was sure he was just kidding.  He soberly shook his head and assured me that he wasn’t but informed me that it was all his brother’s fault.  The next few minutes involved him blaming his brother for his own social ineptitude.  Apparently his younger (and apparently more attractive) brother was always the outgoing one with lots of friends who had a ton of fun and outshone his older, less appealing brother.  He whined on and on until I couldn’t take it anymore.  I was pretty sure I wanted to date his brother instead of him (sadly his brother had a girlfriend already).  So I asked him if it was only difficult for him to make conversation or extend himself socially when he was around his brother or when he was on his own.  He answered that it was only difficult around his brother, so I looked around and remarked that his brother wasn’t at the bar right then, so what was his excuse?

I thought my blatantly rude remark would have gotten his attention but nope, he was impervious.  He kept complaining about how it had always been this way –his brother had always been the center of attention ever since they were little kids—and how could he possibly change decades of history.  That’s when I told him that “at some point, you’ve got to take responsibility for your own actions and not blame people from your past and incidents from years and years ago for your behavior today.”  It’s like I was channeling Dr Phil or Dr Joyce Brothers or someone.  I thought this would get his attention, give him pause, something; but no, he remained untouched. 

At this point, he at least stopped talking about his brother and started making inane conversation about the weather, sports, etc.  I just stared at him in disbelief.  He was on autopilot.  It didn’t matter that I responded or listened or even that I was there.  I started making my move for the door, saying that I had to get going.  This put him in hyperdrive.  I should have known better as the same thing happens whenever I’m having a prolonged phone conversation with my mother and say that I have to get going.  She finds about 15 other things that she has to tell me right then and an additional 20-30 minutes are added to the conversation for every time I say I have to get going.  It was the same with Chip* but I didn’t feel the need to stick around.  I told him twice that I had to get going and as he kept talking about his upcoming trip to California and baseball spring training and the chances for rain later in the week, I signaled the bartender for the bill for my drink.  All the while, Chip* kept going. It was like a floodgate of autowitter had opened and there was no stopping it.  I paid for my drink, got my purse, stood up and pushed my bar stool in reaching over to shake his hand and tell him to take care. 

As I was fleeing, I heard him continue jabbering, finally realizing that I was leaving, and he yelled after me that he would call me when he got back from his trip.  I wondered then if we had been on the same date.  How could he possibly think that we had more to talk about? I must have misheard him. 

But no, when he got back from his trip he sent me a couple of emails telling me about his trip, asking how I was, and saying he wanted to take me to dinner.  I thanked him for the invite but said I didn’t think we had made a connection and I wouldn’t be meeting up with him again.  He responded that while it was my choice, he liked to give people more than one chance and that he didn’t believe in instant chemistry but that maybe he was a bad judge of character.  Of course with my predisposition to feeling guilty I wondered if I should reply back to him that he was right and meet up with him again but thankfully I contacted the matchmaker friend that had set us up in the first place and she told me to run.  She apologized left and right that Chip* wasn’t anything like his awesome silver fox of a father. 

I wasn’t upset with her – I knew what I was getting into.  She said up front that she hadn’t met this guy, just that if he were anything like his dad he would be a good catch.  And it wasn’t the end of the world – I have had far worse dates with far worse guys.  In the end, I’m glad that I gave him a shot and am grateful that she was thinking of me when she met the awesome client.  Next time, I’ll just have to make sure that she meets and verifies that my actual date is the catch and not his dad.  Or I’ll have to make sure he at least pays for my drink. 

*Name has been changed