2005-05-11 - 3:05 p.m.
Square One Squared
Last week I had two blind dates that sucked. Would you like to hear about them?Both of them were set up via Match.com…or as I like to call it…the “bitch-hiker’s guide to the dating universe.”
Date #1 – Let’s call him G. (all “chick-lit” style.) 6’6”, attorney, divorced, three kids. My daughter thought his picture was cute. So, even though he lives and works in New Jersey, I agreed to meet him b/c, let’s face it, I’m a desperate NYC woman and b/c Elizabeth thought he was cute.
I suggested the Blue Mill Tavern b/c it’s walking distance from my apartment and, in the (inevitable) event that things don’t work out, I can be back home and in my pajamas in ten minutes tops.
So, I arrived first and was immediately adopted by this garrulous group of people led by "Jim," who was sort of a cross between a used car salesman and the annoying uncle you see once every ten years at a wedding. But they were fun people, and I told them I was waiting for a blind date. They were all goofing on me when G. walked into this party-in-progress. He was pretty cool about it and joined in the banter, but he kept telling everyone he was “half-English” (huh?)…even though he was born and raised in Illinois. Well, he lived in London for 12 years with his English wife, and his three kids go to English boarding schools; however, I’m pretty sure this doesn’t make him “English.” And I’m betting he’s not the secret illegitimate son of Queen Elizabeth, although with that family who knows.
Anyway the “Jim Group” moved to a table for dinner and left G. and I to get on with our date. The problem is G. is a bit of low-talker, so I could barely hear most of what he was saying. Blah, blah, blah….his wife left him for a well-known English billionaire ("quelle scandale") whose name G. refused to reveal. Damn. Yadda, yadda…he just got dumped by a woman with whom he shared a house in NJ, blah, blah; she has two adopted children from Cameroon.
Well, we moved on to dinner at a table in the back near the Jim Group, and we continued our “Excuse me?-what?-huh?” convo. He rents a summer cottage in Point ‘O Woods, I’m sure he’s a Republican, I think he talked about a fund-raiser at his house (not sure of the beneificiary or even if he mentioned "fund-raiser). Oh yeah...he described one of his daughters as “a tall, thin, red-haired, pre-pubescent beauty,” which I thought was kind of ICKY. And he kept saying, “So, your daughter thinks I’m cute, eh?” (More ICK)
In between , Jim kept sidling over to our booth to see how the date was going and to invite G. to play golf with him. By now, I was totally tuning out b/c I couldn’t hear the soft-spoken G. across the table, what with all the plate clattering, people chattering, Jim sidling and the sound of my own salad crunching in my own ears. I just nodded and smiled and hoped G. wasn’t asking/telling me anything important.
After dinner, I walked him to the PATH train back to NJ and headed home in time to catch the last half of Larry King Live.
A few days later I received this e-mail from G:
---Linda:
Hi. I enjoyed meeting you very much and you are quite easy to talk with. I have since decided that I need a bit more time to get over the ex-girlfriend and be "ready" for whatever. So I am going off Match and just chilling a bit. I am at (his e-mail address). Hope you and your daughter are both adjusting! It is good that you are so close.---
G.ALRIGHTY, THEN..!! ON TO…
DATE #2 – His name is M., and he’s a sorta-semi-famous writer. 50 years old, 5’9”, silver-maned, small hands (never a good sign). When my daughter saw HIS picture she said, “He looks like a total DICK, and he has that kind of skin that will probably develop melanoma within two or three years.” M. lives most of the time on the East End of Long Island, but maintains a small place in the Village (a “doight-a-terre,” as he calls it, which I thought was pretty funny.) I knew in advance that this guy had just gotten dumped by his 30-YEAR-OLD!! girlfriend who’s a writer for a low-rent NYC daily. But I agreed to the date b/c I figured surely he’d come to his senses and realize he should be dating someone closer to his own age (like me), our e-mail exchanges were engaging, and because he lived in the Village, and fit my “no travel” policy.
So, it was back to the Blue Mill for me. M. was already there when I walked in, and, literally, I did not even have my jacket off when he told me he had to leave in 25 minutes to meet some friends uptown for dinner. I learned nothing new during this 25-minute date, except that he hates cucumbers. Oh yeah, and that his 30 y.o. gf left him just one hour after he suggested that they meet each other’s friends. M. figures that she was probably embarrassed to introduce such an old geezer to her young pals. I thought maybe it was b/c he wears pleated khakis and gold-buttoned blazers… but my friend Kevin feels it’s probably just "‘cause he’s an “asshole.” Anyway, there were clearly no sparks between the two of us…and he paid the check so fast that I didn’t have time to finish even one glass of wine. He headed for the subway…and I headed to Gourmet Garage wondering if I’d even had a date at all. I was back in my apartment like 75 minutes after I had left it, and that included a stop to buy arugula. What the fuck?
The next day I received the following e-mail from M:
---Dear Linda,
You were a sport to come meet me for a drink last night, and thanks for that. I had fun meeting you, but to be honest, as I think you sensed, the mystical "chemistry" didn't appear. I think in part that's because I'm still in a funk about (30 y.o. child-woman journalist)., and I'm not sure that dating my way out of depression is going to be the fun and easy exercise I thought it might. In part, too, though, I realize I can't just go from a 30 year old girlfriend to one who's a bit older than I am. It's just too much, or at least too much too soon. Honestly, Linda, you may be setting yourself up for disappointment by looking to date men who are even a bit younger than you. I know the older ones have their propensity for ED problems, as you groused, but surely not all do, and it really may make more sense for you to look for a man a decade older than I am who's somehow still retained his sense of fun. Men in their late forties, or even early fifties, are just likely to be looking for women a decade younger than THEY are. As, I suppose, you know.
Anyway, I'm sorry I can't offer a better report, but there we are.
Take care,
M.---OH YEAH….THIS IS FUCKING GREAT..!! YOU CAN’T MAKE THIS SHIT UP.
So now I’m back to square one…AGAIN. I guess I’ll have to change my Match.com dating range to “from 68-85” and I guess I’ll just start cruisin’ the Village Nursing Home for men who are more my speed…you know, somewhere between feeble and DEAD.
I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be tootin’ my own horn (though I’ll admit I could use a good tootin’), but girlfriend is not all that decrepit. I still have all my marbles, I can dance like Ellen DeGeneres, my hair is cool (not all 40-something butch-cut), and I can still come up with some pretty funny one-liners.
See for yourself. Check me out.
Would you date me…I mean if you were an 80-year-old man?
Listen, connect a sista up. If you know any attractive, tall, sane, funny, sexy, successful men…give them my stats. I’m battin’ zero here (and you know it’s not good when I start using baseball phrases).
HELP…!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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