“So um hypothetically speaking, let’s say you and I keep doing this right here you know and after about three months we’re in a really cool place. Does that mean you’ll eventually close out your dating account or do we have that conversation when you feel like you’re ready?”
“I’m ready, you know what I’m saying because you are the type of woman who is on my level, is over the clubbing, you’re a good parent and think the same way as I do. So um are you ready to take this to the next level?”
Fool, what level and why are you talking like you’re with the homies on the corner?
No exaggeration, this is really how he speaks and all while I kept whispering to myself “Shut the fuck up, please just shut the fuck up”.
This is our first date on Friday night and unfortunately, our last but this poor guy missed each and every signal being sent his way to tell him that he was on Fantasy Island all alone.
Mr. Me (aptly titled) was too busy talking about himself the entire time, trying his best to sell the idea of him being this really great catch. Oh, and this is even though he lied about his age and height on his profile, wanted me to know that I nearly missed out. The nerve of him taking a moment to admonish me for my initial blow off and of course, there’s a back story.
Just a few weeks earlier Mr. Me was rubbing his eyeballs as he stared in disbelief at my standard farewell text message to guys that says “Sorry, we’re not a good fit”. With all of the you knows, and uhs and you know what I’m saying along with a barrage of other faux pas making a conversation with him straight up painful, I knew he was a little too “urban” for me.
Why in the world do I keep forcing these types of situations is a mystery to me, because my profile even tells these prospects that an intellectual AND articulate man is best for me. He was neither but in the interest of not being a snob or too picky, I decided to give him a chance and once again my second guessing and pity-dating ways have turned against me.
Back to the date, knowing that he’s much shorter with a body proportioned completely different than what his dating profile depicted, along with him having understated his age, I immediately transitioned from a mood of being hopeful to one of placation.
Sadly, Mr. Me was so self-absorbed in chatting about everything related to him from his rough upbringing (I likened him to Ricky and his brother was Dough Boy from the movie Boyz n The Hood), to his side hustle as a stylist.
While he’s plotting a plan to convince me to get offline and get to the “next level”, I’m working a mental calculation for my glass of wine and appetizer. Keeping my portion as inexpensive as possible is generous, especially since I already knew this was the first and the last.
He totally missed this and everything else.
There were all types of amber warning lights being sent his way both during and after our date letting him know things weren’t as wonderful as he thought and here are the main three that he missed:
Lack of Eye Contact
This wasn’t too difficult to do because the smart guy chose the awkward seating arrangement. Instead of suggesting that we sit at a different table, we settled into a long lounge style sofa and he decided to sit next to me. Poor thing missed me rolling my eyes to the ceiling, sighing in frustration. He’s planning date #2 and I’m watching the clock.
Even during the moments when he started in on the “next level”, not once did I turn my head turn to acknowledge him. Mr. Me said nothing about this lack of attention because he just didn’t pay attention.
Avoids Physical Contact
The advantage of our particular seating arrangement is that at any moment I could have reached over and touched his arm if I was feeling him. I may have tapped his hand a few times, or willingly moved closer to him.
There was none of this and when he went for the seated side hug (picture it, very awkward), I stiffened up like a dead dog and pulled the opposite direction. Once it was time to go and he tried for a good night kiss on my lips, my neck snapped so quickly he got nothing but a taste of hair. There was nothing from my mouth in the form of words or body language otherwise to tell Mr. Me that I was feeling him, nothing at all.
Slow Response/No Response to Texts
Even if the date wasn’t a smashing success, a quick thank you text was still sent to Mr. Me though some people won’t even do this. It’s either going to be taken for just that and nothing more or provide hope that this will happen again. But even if he was still clueless about what was not about to happen that same night, my vague responses and lack of interest in keeping any dialogue going the next two days should have been a clue. Still, he didn’t get it and up until last evening was still texting me asking how my day was etc…
It’s amazing how many men fail to pay attention to words being said (or in this case, lack thereof) and what maybe going on with a woman’s body language. Once again I found myself being out with someone for the sake of doing it, more out of guilt for rejecting him because I didn’t think we had anything in common.
One wasted outfit and a few gallons of gas later, so what’s a girl to do after all of this? Call up her old faithful fuck buddy to redeem herself and end up with some real fireworks.
I just can’t do any more of these pity dates.
Until there’s a cure…