Mr. Careful

January 11th, 2010

I agreed to meet Mr. Careful despite the fact that all of his profile pictures included his dog.  I'm sorry animal-lovers, but seriously?  That dog can and would eat me.  Not to mention the shedding which is pretty much a lifestyle choice.

Since everyone is doing it, he suggests taking me to a whiskey bar.  Not quite learning my lesson from previous close calls (and feeling sort of lazy), I decide to let him pick me up.  Now, this is always a stressful moment.  Chances are, his car is going to suck.  And I say that only because he's on a free dating site, has good taste in music, and is a student of some sort.  That all points to not-so-great-car.  And I don't even really care, except for the fact that a guy's embarrassment over his own car (and the fact that I have no business driving the nice car that I do) really makes me uncomfortable.  I want the guy to be in control, at least give the impression that he can take care of me.  Sounds ridiculous, but I'm sure there is a scientific study somewhere backing up my ramblings.

FIRST IMPRESSION:  He pulls up in some red 80s car that sucks.  Whatevs.  I knew it was coming.  He has longish early 90s sort of high school hair and I can tell he is pretty short even while he's sitting.  Not excited.

We head to the bar and I can't help but notice his overly careful driving style.  It's sort of annoying.  He sits completely upright with his head pinned to the headrest and barely turns his head.  He stops cold at EVERY yellow light and apologizes for it.

We arrive and the only drink that looks good is a $13 cocktail.  I feel bad ordering it, but he suggests it.  I decide not to reach for my wallet, because, darn it, he suggested the place and has already established the "datiness" of this by picking me up.  Follow through, holmes!  I realize that this date is going nowhere when I can't stop looking at the bartender who is extremely attractive.

We sit and chat over drinks and I learn that he's training to be a vet.  I don't really know how I feel about this.  Actually, I'm spending most of this time staring at him, trying to find him attractive.  I do this often on dates.  Should probably clue me in to the fact that I actually DON'T find the guy attractive in the first place.  But I like to give them the opportunity to change my mind.  Mr. Careful couldn't change it.

I listen to him talk about dogs and then tell him I'm getting tired.  As we leave, Ray Romano walks into the bar.  Not that cool, but definitely the most exciting part of the date.  As he approaches my place I get super chatty about the music he's playing and don't leave a moment of silence (which could be confused for the want of a kiss).  Of course, he was too busy pinning his head against the seat to bother with such a thing.  I hug him and shiver thinking about the dog hair I must have accumulated on my wool coat.

Date #19:  I literally don't care enough to think of an adjective.