Mr. Twilight has been Eclipsed

The final nail in the coffin so to speak was when he forwarded me a list of upcoming entertainment events in the area and it included an ad for a Twilight convention in D.C.  

I met Mr. Twilight (aka Franklin*) back before New Year’s Eve on our very first date.  To recap briefly, he was charming and funny and had about a billion hobbies, including a disconcerting love of vampires and the Twilight saga (see Curse of the Toxic Wine Bar for more info).  What he didn’t have was that certain j’ne sais quois or chemistry-ish spark.  I liked hanging out with him but I wasn’t excited to see him again.  That being said, I recognized that first impressions can be tinged with nervousness and he was pretty fun so I decided in favor of a second date.

Unfortunately, he became the second guy to stand me up that weekend in mid-January.  We hadn’t set a specific time or location to meet but had generally agreed on a Sunday evening which I dutifully set aside and then heard nothing from him as the date approached.  A week or two later he emailed to say that he was sorry that his flights back from snowboarding out west that weekend had been delayed and he should have texted or called but he forgot. 

Since he did seem pretty swell and my expectations had been tempered by my recent encounter with the potential satanic worshiping poop-lover (see Deal with the Devil for more info), I decided to give Franklin* another go but unfortunately due to the insanity in both of our schedules we couldn’t meet up again until a few weeks ago.  At that point all I could really remember about him was that he liked very odd board games, volleyball, and vampires.  That third point was reinforced when he asked to make our second date a little later in the evening so he could go home and watch an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  To the uninformed, I must relay that Buffy (a truly exceptional program) has been off the air for oh, about 10 years.  And that if he was a real fan, as I suspected he was, he probably had the whole series on DVD anyway.  So it is highly odd that he would need to delay our date that had been delayed for two months to watch an episode of a t.v. show that has been in syndication for 10 years.  But I digress.

As work had continued to suck the very life from my veins and rendered me incapable of making decisions, I left the event planning up to him.  He chose sushi for the event and a local restaurant near the both of us as the location.  This makes it even stranger to me that he then spent a significant portion of the evening commenting on the expensiveness of the menu items.  I mean if the costs is that much of a concern, why not choose a less expensive type of food?  Not even the jumbo pitcher of sake mitigated his unhappiness with the prices.  A little aghast I offered repeatedly to contribute to the bill, particularly as I had begun to see our ‘relationship’ as heading solidly in the friend direction, but he would have none of that.  The conversation, other than mentions of the price of the meal, was fairly pleasant but not as enchanting as I remembered from our first date.  Rather than seeming as a renaissance man with many different interests, he came across as someone who had no time for anyone or anything that didn’t conform to his schedule and interests. 

This could, of course, have something to do with my rapidly increasing and hopeless-feeling crush on the Dog Whisperer.  There’s not a lot of potential matches on my horizon right now, but the best any of them can hope for at this point is a distant second to DW (see “Stalking the Dog Whisperer” and “Dorks Anonymous” for more info).  And yes, I am still too superstitious about it to say anything so there will be no further updates on that situation for the time being.

I will, however, provide an update to the melodramatic relationships I have with a string of personal trainers (see “It’s Not Me, It's You” for more info).  That’s right folks, I was stood up by yet another personal trainer.  I was supposed to meet the tatted up trainer number two this past Friday but he “got mixed up” and then was surprised that I didn’t want to hang out the gym waiting for him for an additional 90 minutes as he attempted to come from Germantown across the always-daunting Capitol Beltway to my gym.  During rush hour.  On a Friday.  I have now been given yet another new trainer and yet another free session.  We’re scheduled to meet tomorrow for our first of three sessions.  At this point I’ll be more surprised if he actually shows at all, let alone shows up remotely on time.  

*Name has been changed.

It’s Not Me, It’s You

I’ve been trying to break up with my trainer for almost a week.  Actually to be honest, I’ve been trying to break up with him for a couple of months.  We just don’t have the same spark that we used to.  I see the way he looks at his other clients, with hope that they will obey his insane eating regimen and that sadistic smile that he used to have just for me.  The end started when he double-booked during my appointment and then tried to speed my session up to get to the next one too quickly.  That was annoying enough but then came the time for our last session in December when he stood me up.  No call, no explanation.  Nothing. 

I swore I wouldn’t take him back but then he came crawling back with apologies and promises of a free session to make it up to me.  And God help me, but I believed him.  We had one session and it was ok I guess.  The thrill was definitely gone.  Then I got the flu and canceled our last session (although I will note that I called him the day before to cancel even though I had to make time between my feverish viewing of bizarre History channel specials and intense vomiting schedule to call him).   As my health improved nominally, my work life spiraled rapidly out of control and I was lucky to have time to sleep and walk my faithful canine let alone to have a personal fitness session (this also has had a toll on my ability to date potential matches and probable psychotics). 

Anyway, I saw the trainer at the gym the week before last and he was singing my praises again, saying how much he missed me and how anxious he was to start working with me again.  I fell for it again and booked the seemingly never-ending last session for this past Tuesday.  Guess what happened next?  That’s right, he didn’t show.  Again.

I was beyond fed up and told the gym I just wanted to cancel that last session and call it a day.  Instead, the gym who has become like a persistent and incompetent matchmaker decided to give me a new trainer and two free sessions.  They introduced me to my new trainer.  While I highly enjoyed his tats, I have to admit the workout was kind of meh.  It was more him talking about his fitness and diet philosophies (he saw lots of protein shakes in my future but since I don’t think they are supposed to include vodka or real chocolate, I don’t think that’s going to happen) and then showing me random stretches.  Then he gave me his digits and told me to text him with the days I wanted to meet next. 

But even then he was into making things difficult.  He lives like 40 miles away and said he only wanted to come train me if he was already training someone else.  Not the most seductive of proposals, I have to tell you. 

The following evening, I get a message from Old Trainer saying that we were supposed to have an appointment that evening and that he guessed I couldn’t make it and wanted to reschedule.  Highly confused, I left him another message saying that our appointment had been for the day before, and then awkwardly hemmed and hawed about how the gym gave me New Trainer and that I hadn’t asked for him and was really sorry, but I guessed I was working with New Trainer and that I wished him the best and would see him around.

I thought that would kinda be the end of it because although this has become like a very awkward relationship it is a financial one with clearly defined roles and responsibilities.  I pay him to make me work out and he does so and I complain but try not to complain too loudly as it tends to make him become more sadistic.  All of that is contingent on him showing up and making me work out. 

But I apparently am irresistible to trainers sensing my overwhelming guilt at my physical appearance and lack of general tone-y-ness and my inability to break off a relationship that has passed its prime long ago.  I say this because last night, Old Trainer left a seven minute message on my voicemail apologizing for the mix-up, saying that he was pretty sure our appointment was for Wednesday but that if he was in any way responsible for the confusion he felt horrible, yadda, yadda, and to make up for it would like to give me another free session.

So now I have to decide between two trainers, neither of who I am interested in, both of whom are vying for my attention and throwing free sessions at me.  And much like I feel when posed with similar dating situations, I really just want to run away from both of them and quit the gym so I don’t have to see them and deal with any more awkwardness.

Anyway, that’s all I got for now.  I will have to tell you later about my most recent date with Mr. Twilight (see Curse of the Toxic Wine Bar for more info).

Dorks Anonymous

If you haven’t met me in real life you’ll have to take my word for this, but I am truly a dork.  My dorkiness has been confirmed of late by my completely pre-teen like behavior with regards to the Dog Whisperer (see Stalking the Dog Whisperer post and comments for back story).  I don’t want to even talk about it too much as I don’t want to jinx it.  GAH! I’m one step away from leaving a note on his door saying “Do You Like ME? Circle Yes or No.” 

We’ve now progressed to having talked together for over 10 minutes at a time, he’s crossed the street to come talk to me (a MAJOR improvement from previously when he would cross the street to avoid me and my dog who was violently opposed to his dog), and now actually walking together.  Yes, that’s right, after months of me intermittently mooning over him, we’ve now walked around the block together.  And I was so excited that I did a happy booty dance in my kitchen following said walk and am afraid that several passers-by might have observed the happy booty dance.  Right on cue, my friend and co-conspirator who has been trying for months to get more info on DW and throw me into his path, called to discuss the walk as she and her husband both had observed said walk.  But that’s all I’m going to say for now as again, I’m a dork, and I don’t want to jinx this.  And still have not confirmed that he is in fact single.  Or remotely interested in me.

In other news, Mr. Twilight may be making a return appearance as he sufficiently explained semi-standing me up on our last date (see Curse of the Toxic Wine Bar for more info).  He continues to be delightfully witty in his emails and we are trying to meet up again soon.

And finally, I’m about ready to kick my one remaining dating site to the curb.  Barrel of Monkeys* has been sketchy at best since I joined it a few months ago (see Weird Science for info on my dual dating site debacle).  This definitely may have been a case of getting what you pay for since that joint was free.  Recent matches who have wanted to meet include a guy who had a picture of himself dressed as a pirate (and it seemed to be more of an everyday wardrobe choice rather than costume) and Dick.*  Dick* approached me last week but it was almost too much for me to comprehend.  First, the profile pics included one of him posed in front of a waterfall whilst looking pensive and another picture of him pretending to sleep.  The email he sent me simply said “Can you handle a guy like me?”  When I checked out his profile, it prompted me to answer “No.”   His profile looked something like the following:

I am just an ambitious outdoorsy professional athlete trying to change the world the best way I know.  Ask whatever you wish of me and it shall be granted.  The real problem is, I am also a die hard romantic! Alas! it seems women have lost a taste for that. Why is that? Granted I see lots of lovely ladies on here, and I am a sucker for your beautiful eyes. But if you really want all the stuff you claim you do, look no further for..Here I am!  You are the only thing stopping you here.  Not me.  You. Turn up the speakers from your heart and decrease the ones from your brain. I will see you somewhere in the middle!?!  Women have no idea how to seduce and be seduced.  You are more girls than women.  Why?

Not-so-Great Expectations

To refresh your memories, I have been communicating for what I now realize has been over seven weeks with someone who I feared may have been a satanic worshipper and who really seemed to have some sort of obsession with poop (see Deal with the Devil for the full back story).  That was the worst case scenario as far as I could tell.  The best case scenario was just that he was an extremely nervous individual who made a really poor decision in choosing his email address and who wasn’t too good at communicating on email.  Or the phone.   And was prone to using the word ‘poop’ a lot when he was nervous.  Which was most of the time.

Fast forward to this past weekend: I’m incredibly stressed at work and have no time to sleep or think or take reasonable care of myself so this of course made it the most perfect time ever to meet my match, Erik*, in real life.  Yep, there is virtually no situation that I can’t take and make it more difficult or prone to disaster.  But I had decided enough was enough, I had to meet him and see once and for all what the deal was; plus his requests to meet to meet in real life had reached a fevered pitch and this seemed the best way to end that.

We decided to meet on Sunday for lunch.  At high noon.  (cue the Western high noon shootout music).  He chose a slightly upscale-ish fast food joint.  Yep, fast food.  As in wicked cheap.  And no booze.  Wincing silently, I agree to meet him there. 

When I arrive, there were no visible signs of satanic worship on his person.  I don’t know what I was expecting but there were no pentagrams or triple 6’s.  He was wearing a black sweatshirt but that was as dark as he got.  He also was beyond highly nervous, the kind with the clammy handshake and faint sheen on his forehead.  In what was a further indicator that this was not going to be the best date ever, he didn’t pay for my lunch or even offer to in spite of the fact that the total came to about $5.00. 

What followed was a fairly reasonable conversation, in terms of not talking about the devil or poop, but all in all was kind of …well, bland and slightly depressing.  He was really nervous and a pretty negative person, but not evil.  He didn’t really have any interests or hobbies other than work and working out.  He said all his friends had abandoned him by getting married and having kids and not having any time to spend with him.  I tried to pick up the conversation by appearing interested and asking him questions that I thought would engender more positive conversation, but it fell flat.  Even when I tried to commend him for being such a good guy and helping his mom the day before, he sighed and said he didn’t want to help her but she made him. 

But I just kept thinking “well, at least he doesn’t seem satanic.  And he hasn’t mentioned poop either, so that’s gotta count for something….right?”  That’s the problem with going on these dates.  They make me question what I had thought were reasonable expectations to the point where it feels like I need to just lower my standards to: single, not evil, can carry on a conversation that doesn’t make me wince/vomit/cry.  When my goal is just to rate my dates above “licking my hair upon first meeting me” OR “doesn’t hate food and people” OR “doesn’t make me afraid for my personal safety” OR “doesn’t pee in plain sight of the customers of the nice restaurant where we just dined,” maybe that’s when its time to call it a day and give up the whole dating scene (see “The Eternal Truth of Seinfeld and Parisian Greetings” OR “Eating Before Dinner and Worst Date EVER” OR “At Least I Got To Hit Some Balls” OR “What Eventually Drove Me to the Internet” for more on those respective dates).

*Name has been changed.

Stalking the Dog Whisperer

I’m not the most observant woman when it comes to noticing a cute, available guy when I see one in real life.  Therefore, it should not come as a surprise that it took me a while to notice the cutie with the golden retriever living just a few hundred feet away from me.  Even so I did not realize that he had been living in the neighborhood almost three years before I met him.  I am also quite possibly the world’s worst flirt –not as in, wow that woman is outrageously flirtatious! More like, when I don’t think I’m being flirty I’m apparently all “come hither” and when I actually attempt to flirt, it’s hideous and grotesque.  These things have conspired to ruin my relationship with the dog whisperer before it even got started.

“Dog Whisperer” is the code name my friend and neighbor gave the cutie.  I think she actually noticed him first and staked him out for me months and months ago.  This is the kind of friend she is: when she saw the hot runner in our neighborhood, she attempted to chase him down for me despite the fact that she was approximately 8 months pregnant and walking her fairly sizable Labrador.  When I asked her what she was going to do if she actually caught him, she replied matter-of-factly that she was going to “bring him to me.”  These are the actions of a true, and at the time hormonally charged, friend.  The image of him turning around all wide-eyed to see a pregnant stranger and her big black dog charging after him still makes me smile.

So at some point, I think in the late summer, we both noticed “DW” walking his beautiful golden retriever.  They looked like an L.L. Bean ad come to life.  My friend and I started plotting ways I could throw myself into his path.  This became hugely complicated by the fact that when they first met, my dog HATED his dog.  Ok, so maybe Charlie (my dog) didn’t hate the golden, but he really didn’t like him.  He’d bark and pull at his leash and even growled once.  It was really a hindrance to my not-so-burgeoning romance. 

My friend was undeterred though and took it as her mission to introduce herself and her dog to DW and find ways to “naturally” bring me up in their conversations.  She was a force to be reckoned with and would insert my name and presence into conversation even if it seemed to be a stretch.  When he was talking to her about his commute, she said “Oh you know who has a bad commute too?  Adrienne! You know Adrienne, right?” and then would sing my praises.  When he talked about his dog, she would bring up me and Charlie.  I really think at one point he said he had to go to the store and she might have said something like “Oh, you know who just went to the store, Adrienne! You know Adrienne, right?”  In fact, once when she was walking toward him determined to bring me up again, a bug flew into her eye and she kept talking about me even though tears were streaming out her eye as she attempted to dislodge the insect. 

That time she invited him to a cookout at her house in the early fall which thankfully he did not attend.  I say thankfully as it ended up being me and like 4 married couples and several toddlers and infants.  Not exactly the best scene to casually strike up a conversation and win him over with my feminine wiles.  Hi! I’m the only single woman in the room!  Come! Talk to me!  Why are you running away?!?!

In the meantime, I was working my butt off at trying to get Charlie to be friendlier to DW’s dog.  I worked with Charlie on every walk, giving him treats when we saw other dogs, praising him when he didn’t bark or growl, and trying to reinforce positive thoughts about golden retrievers by comparing DW’s dog to one of Charlie’s favorite girl dogs, the golden retriever of one of my best friends.  It was more than a little insane, but it actually worked.  Charlie started to like DW’s dog and DW and I had several conversations when we met up walking in the neighborhood. 

I’m not that great at stalking though.  This is probably not a bad thing, but it has made it tougher to find casual ways to throw myself into DW’s path.  I still haven’t even established if he has a girlfriend.  I’m pretty sure he was dating this total skank in the fall.  Ok, I don’t know she was a total skank.  But she was all flippy with her blond hair and had this annoying “I’m so fun-loving” loud laugh that she would laugh when she flipped her hair.  Or at least she did the one day I saw her hanging all over him. 

I hadn’t seen her since that one time and haven’t seen any other women hanging around so I hadn’t given up hope.  I just couldn’t figure out how to get him to think of me in a way other than neighbor woman whose dog used to despise his dog. 

Our last series of interactions was at first highly positive and then deeply disappointing.  When it snowed like an absurd amount a few weeks ago, I was trying to dig out in the morning and head off to work.  DW came over and offered to help me finish my car.  Since it was like half a foot of snow, it took quite a while and we had a pretty great conversation.  I found out some more about him, he asked questions about me, and it turns out we had a lot in common and a lot to talk about.  He even helped me when I wanted to dig out one of my neighbor’s cars as her husband had the flu and she was at her wit’s ends as the kids were sick too. 

Here was my in!  I finally figured out how to woo him in a way where I wouldn’t end up freaking him out by my horrible attempts at flirting.  I don’t like to brag, but I am a pretty mean baker.  I can definitely hold my own when it comes to delicious baked goodness, much to the detriment of my own hips.  Anyway, I decided I would bake DW something to thank him for helping me dig. 

I seriously contemplated what I should bake him.  It had to be homemade but not too fussy –plus what if he had bizarre allergies or food aversions?  I decided to go with a classic: chocolate chip cookies.   This way, I could give some to him and some to a couple friends.  They turned out pretty good, although I burned quite a few.  I kept the burnt ones for myself and then took the rest out to deliver.   I went to my friends’ first and then made my way to DW’s casa. 

I was more than a little nervous as I knocked on his door a few Sunday nights ago.  His dog was definitely excited to see me, but DW seemed a little nonplussed.  I’m pretty sure my face was the color of a fire engine and I stammered something about wanting to thank him for helping me dig out the cars and that I had made some chocolate chip cookies and I hoped that he liked them.  And then….he invited me in, told me I was the woman he’d been searching his entire life for, and swept me up in his arms, and we laughed about how we’d tell the drawn out story of how we met to our future grandkids.

Well, that’s what would have happened had my life been one of the numerous Hallmark or Lifetime Valentine’s Day movies that have been advertised for the past week or so.  The camera would pan to DW and I walking off into the sunset with our dogs.  What actually happened was that he thanked me for the cookies, I stood there with what I fear was a ridiculously hopeful expression on my face, there was a slightly awkward pause, and then he closed the door.

And that’s been that.  I haven’t really seen him since then.  Then again, I’ve been working pretty much nonstop and have been struck with yet another cold, but I still haven’t talked to or even really seen DW or his overly perfect golden.  And to be truthful, I have to admit that what really ticked me off was that I wasted all my good cookies on him and was left with only the burnt ones.  I’m sure there’s a metaphor or life lesson in there somewhere.

In the meantime, I did manage to have at least one phone conversation with Erik* (see Deal with the Devil) where he did not mention poop or satan, so that’s good news I guess.  We still haven’t met in real life, but hopefully if works calms down and I stop sounding like Elmer Fudd with this head cold, we’ll be able to meet up for a drink or coffee or something innocuous like that.  But I’ll probably continue to pathetically sigh whenever I see DW’s house or catch a glimpse of him walking along with his dog.  

*Name has been changed.

Deal with the Devil?

It was only a matter of time before I ended up dating a potential satanic worshipper.  I mean, if you look at the negatively spiraling trends evidenced in my dating history, it was bound to happen.  Actually I thought I was headed toward a sadist who collected those Precious Moments dolls with the big scary eyes or even a cross-dressing Nazi taxidermist.  But apparently I was destined for another type of extreme weirdness and awfulness.

To be fair, I don’t know that he is actually a satanic worshipper.  Obviously, if I knew that for certain, I would have ceased all conversation with this latest match.  However, right now I’m just suspicious and attempting not to rule out a guy without even having met him. 

Here are the facts as far as I know them: he has the number “666” in his email address.  This was something I didn’t realize until after we had been communicating through Physics* dating site for a few weeks.  On that site, I simply new him as Erik.*  When I was getting ready to cancel my membership on Physics* I gave him my real life email address only to discover his bizarrely named email account.  I decided to be up front about it and ask him.  He said that he just picked it because it was an easy number to remember and didn’t select it for any satanic purposes.  That seemed like a long shot but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for now and continue chatting with him on email and phone. 

So yes, in what may have been a tragically misguided decision, I called him when he gave me his digits and he now has my digits as well.  To date, he has proved to be a persistent correspondent, texting and calling with great regularity.  About our phone conversations, I must say this: we have had two lengthy phone calls and during both of those conversations he used the word “poop” a little too much for my liking (as in any uses of the word would have been strange for a 1^st or 2^nd phone conversation).  

Here was the context: in the first conversation, after saying how he had been reluctant to get a pet since he lived alone and it didn’t seem fair to the dog (yes, at this point I did remind him that I also live alone and have a dog and didn’t feel that it was unfair to my dog), he asked if I always came home to a house full of poop.  I assured him that this was not the case and tried to change the subject, but he really couldn’t let it go.  At some point he did realize that he was talking about feces an awful lot for a first phone call with a woman that he might potentially want to date, but it took a while to get there. 

In the second conversation, which just happened this evening, when we were talking about our weekends and I mentioned what a pain it was that the sidewalks were still so heavily snow and ice covered as it made it difficult to borderline dangerous to walk my dog, he asked if I always had to carry poop bags and pick up my dog’s poop.  Again at some point he realized he was saying the word “poop” a lot, but it was as if he couldn’t help himself. 

And yet I still haven’t thrown in the towel with this one.  I’m not sure why exactly.  Its like I really have to at least meet him in real life to see if he’s just been extremely nervous and made very poor decisions in both his phone conversation and selection of email address. 

In other news, Twilight guy may be making a reappearance.  I need to determine if he had a sufficient reason for standing me up (see “Curse of the Toxic Wine Bar: Vampires and Manscaping” for more info on him)…or if Eric* makes me reevaluate what I’m willing to forgive and forget.

*Name has been changed.

Curse of the Toxic Wine Bar: Vampires and Manscaping

Riddle: What is worse than being stood up by a guy that you had at best lukewarm feelings about? 

Answer: Being stood up by TWO guys that you had at best lukewarm feelings about.

In my previous post where I compared the various dating services I’ve tried (“Clash of the Titans: A Comparative Analysis of Dating Services”), I mentioned that I recently had been stood up by a guy who admitted his love of the Twilight saga.  What I didn’t know when I wrote that post was that the following day, I would be trapped in the “Groundhog’s Day” of dating and would be stood up the following day by a different guy.  I fear I may be getting ahead of myself as usual, so let’s go back to the beginning of the story.

I hadn’t been too successful with my matches on Physics.* First there was the chinchilla neuterer (see “Two Things I Never Thought I’d Hear”).  Then I had one good date with a guy I wasn’t so sure about who we ended up playing phone and email tag, we never were able to arrange our second date.  I had what I thought was a fantastic date with another guy who said he wanted to meet up again, asked me when I was free, and then never contacted me again (see “I Kinda Liked It Better When My Dates Were Insane” for more details on both these Princes of Mediocrity).

That brings us to December 2010/January 2011 and my two first dates at a seemingly lovely wine bar.  So the first first date was with Franklin.*  We had exchanged some great emails and I was really looking forward to meeting him.  Our date was a lot of fun but I have to admit, there really weren’t any sparks.  I was undeterred though as nerves often come into play on a first date and Franklin* seemed like a catch.  He was a great conversationalist and had a ton of interesting hobbies.  In addition to his athletic hobbies (volleyball, kayaking, running), he played really obscure board games with his friends.  Some sort of game where you win sheep instead of money…I can’t remember the name but the way he described it, it sounded hysterical. 

The only moment that gave me any pause was at the end of the date.  He asked me about my New Year’s Eve plans and I told him (“South Pacific” at the Kennedy Center with a friend) and I asked about his plans.  He said that friends were coming over to play bizarre board games and make some Korean soup and just hang out.  He then mentioned that they might watch Eclipse (for the uninitiated, Eclipse is the third movie in the “Twilight” saga).  I assumed he had to be kidding but he assured me that he wasn’t but that his friends weren’t too excited by the idea.  Franklin* was really into it though and admitted that he was a Twilight fan and that he “loved vampires.”

Here is where I admit to you yet another of my guilty pleasures/secret shames.  I have read all the Twilight saga books and have seen the three movies that have been released thus far.  I’m severely chagrined to admit this as I made so much fun of a friend who was a self-proclaimed “Twi-hard” and member of “Team Edward.”  I mocked her incessantly for a loooong time for being into books and movies about sullen teenagers, vampires, and werewolves.  And then I made the mistake of reading the books.  They are, as another friend described them, “love crack.”  Unbelievably addictive and you know it’s so bad for you but you can’t stop.  My excuse is that I’m a chic and, although I try to deny it, a hopeless romantic.  I don’t know what Franklin’s* excuse was. 

Anyway, so right after I went out with Franklin* he went on a vacation to go snowboarding with some friends in Colorado.  But before he left, he indicated that he had a great time and wanted to go out again.  After some negotiating we settled on our next date being on Sunday, 16 January, when he returned from his trip.  He assured me that he’d when he got back to town that weekend and we’d sort out the details.

Fast-forward to a week after my first date with Franklin* when I was due to meet Chip* at the very same wine bar where I had met Franklin.*  I’ve already described that date with him in the post To Text or Not to Text.  To briefly recap, prior to our somewhat non-thrilling date Chip* admitted that he had his eyebrows waxed and was a fan of facials and massages, our date itself was just kind of so-so, then he sort of abruptly ended our date, texting me afterward to ask me in the 2011 version of a note that you’d exchange in middle school (you know the type I’m talking about: Do you like me? Circle Yes or No), “Do you want to go out again?” I decided what the hell and he and I chatted once or twice after to arrange our next date for Monday, 17 January.

As the fateful dates approached, I hadn’t talked with either of the guys but decided to keep a brief window on each day free in case they actually did get in touch.  I didn’t not meet up or hang out with friends as a result of these planned dates but I did move some plans around for these two second dates.  And then I never heard from either guy again. 

I wasn’t really all that upset but I have to admit that my pride is a little bruised.  As is often the moral of my dating story, of course it could have been worse.  I could have been waiting at the restaurant/movie theater/club/bar/wherever by myself with them never showing.  I could have really, really liked them and then they didn’t show.  But still, being stood up kinda sucks and as with other failed dates, I have to start to wonder, what is it about me that makes this kind of stuff happen?  Did I jinx it by closely arranging dates with two different guys at the same location?  Is there some bad dating juju at that wine bar?  Were those initial moments of doubt –first with the proclaimed love of vampires and secondly with the tendency for manscaping—really warning signs?  And where do I go from here? 

Of course, I don’t know the answers to those questions.  And maybe they’re not even the right questions to be asking.  For now, I’ll stop my ceaseless Riddler-like brain and call it a night.  Immediately after the dates that never were, I caught some sort of flu/hideous virus and was insanely ill for about the past week or so, therefore, I will consider myself purged of the bad dating germs and ready to start new and fresh whenever I figure out my next move in the extreme sport of dating.

*Name has been changed.