- The funny thing about dating is that there are so many different types of men and situations out there so you really are placed in a position of picking your poison.
My last date from a few months ago really had it together.
He owned a couple of properties, had a stable career with no debt and only one child and was just as eager as myself to find someone special and settle down.
That same man was also a self-centered, controlling, condescending asshole who believed he was the crème de la crème and couldn’t understand why or how any woman could reject him. But like the others he’d complained to me about who found a man with his life in order, I just wasn’t interested in him.
Two weeks ago I met up “47” who is the polar opposite.
He’s newly single, rooming in a small apartment with a relative, has two different baby mamas who are still giving him grief almost ten years later, is transitioning into a new career as a financial advisor, trying to get himself out of a boatload of debt and sheepishly volunteered that he “only made $47,000 last year and it’s been really hard”. By no means am I judging the man based on his income, but these were his words about struggling, not mine.
“You just don’t make enough money to be able to date me”.
When I asked 47 about some of the women he’d dated recently and why things didn’t work out, he replied that most of them had catfished him and were all grossly obese, but it was that comment above that really stood out.
Initially I thought to myself “what a rude bitch and no wonder she’s still single”, until he provided more details about her. She was a successful attorney who enjoyed weekend trips to wineries up north, traveling abroad and the opera and as single as she was, that woman was looking for someone who could at least come up with his portion and travel with her.
In the end, this woman and the two before her found 47 useful for nothing more than a quick lay and as he openly admitted, none of them were cool with his current financial and living situation. He wanted a relationship, not just being looked at as a piece of meat and the fact that they’ve not come back for seconds? Well, I guess that’s another story because if the sex is that good…
So how did our first meet-up go?
For the sake of brevity (something I really know nothing about), I’ll try to be brief about our Barnes & Nobles meet up and try to avoid two different posts but let me just say this – first impressions are a motherfucker.
Whenever I’m going to meet someone whether it be from online dating or after our initial encounter, I make sure everything is on point. Clothing, hair, scent, nails, shoes, teeth and my personal favorite – lotion. They’re either going to like me or not but I most certainly am not offering any ammunition to be accused of looking a hot mess.
47 didn’t think things through too carefully or maybe was thrown off because he was rushing to meet me from the Inland Empire, because I was not impressed.
Even if I was to have “worked with a brother” and try setting aside my disdain for his roommate and overall situation, he pretty much set the stage for a not-so-positive evening by showing up: late, shirt screaming for an iron, about two weeks past that last barber edge up, long dirty fingernails and breathe that was two clicks from being vile.
This is the first meeting, the impression meeting, the let me decide if I would even consider seeing you again meeting yet this is how he arrived.
I just don’t get these men, I really don’t BUT… I think I just may give him a chance to redeem himself. Maybe.
Until there’s a cure…