Doubleheader Part 2: Mr. Too Cool - Date 1 of 4

February 19th, 2010

This was one of those magical dates that appeared out of nowhere.  By that I mean I had zero expectation and only a hint of interest during my ritual hair-curling/makeup applying preparatory stage and was more than pleasantly surprised by the date's end.  Earlier in the week I had a little back and forth with Mr. Too Cool and we set a date for Friday night.  Typically, I never allow men to pick me up at my apartment (save for Mr. Careful & Mr. Average), but something about his attitude made me gung-ho for it.  With a ribbon in my hair and my mustard yellow coat on, I descend my stairs at his beckoning text.

FIRST IMPRESSION:  Wow.  All I see is a loud, black, '65 Mustang.  Did I mention I LOVE old cars?  I get in and see he's wearing a grey pullover sweater and slacks, has a mass of thick, wavy black hair and big, dreamy eyes.  Let's do this.

Thus begins what I would say is my favorite date this far and since then.  Major cool points for the car, I'm sure he knows that.  We make some small talk and he tells me that he was thinking we should get a drink first.  First?  There's a plan?  Yay!  I do not mind one bit that he completely takes control of the situation, doesn't ask my opinion, and drives straight to a cozy dive bar I've only been to once.  We walk in and before taking seats at the bar, he picks a few songs on the jukebox.  He asks what I want to drink and then orders it for me (I don't know why more men don't do this) in Spanish.  I know, this has caused quite a ruckus with friends when I tell them I'm impressed that he orders in another language.  Yes, we're in Southern California and most people speak Spanish, but I don't (and really don't have a desire to learn it).  He could have been speaking Russian, the language isn't the point, it's that he's exuding such a cosmopolitan streak.  You can stop laughing, I'm serious!

Over drinks he tells me he was a child rap star (I know), he's close with his mother and 14 year old sister, and he makes a living as an artist/sculptor (like for Disney and other huge clients).  He pays for our drinks and drives us to a new restaurant downtown.  Again, he speaks Spanish to the valet guy, impressing me enough to ignore a couple of distorted Barbie heads in his car (leftovers from some art project).  Whatever, I'm into him and little eccentricities at this point are more fuel for the fire.  Before walking into the restaurant, he pauses in the entryway to point out a chandelier made of tequila bottles.  That he made.  This guy really knows how to lay it on thick and I'm the perfect victim for this crap.  We order, excuse me, HE orders us fancy cocktails and a few appetizers.  I giggle too much. 

He pays the bill and my suggestion of pie brings us to my favorite neighborhood diner.  He orders coffee and watches me eat a gourmet pop tart.  I speak of girlish nonsense and he watches me, amused.  I brush aside the thought that perhaps he has had this exact date many, many times before.  I chalk the smoothness up to fate and personality.  He pays for the third time and I'm hooked.  He plays a particularly pretty song on his IPod as he drives me home.  No kiss, but I'm not bothered since I have the faint notion that I will see him again. 

Date # 34:  He's arrogant, assuming, and dominant.  I really like him.

Doubleheader Part 1: Mr. Paranoid

February 19th, 2010

I was pulled into a date with Mr. Paranoid by his rather noir profile photo and my inner insistence that he wears ties and sports coats on a regular basis.  It's true, I have yet to learn the lesson of only one photo.  I really can't blame myself, I'm certainly not going to squash the unfounded feelings of hope and possibility that I still harbor, however stupid.  And dangerous.  Dude suggests tea, I sigh (mostly from boredom), and agree.  We settle on a sidewalk cafe in my neighborhood, one that I have yet to bring a date to. 

FIRST IMPRESSION:  He has a smush face.  He's tall, but disappoints me with a casual polo and jeans.  He looks older and less handsome than his (one) photo let on, but that's nothing a charming personality can't turn around.  Turns out he doesn't have that either.

No stranger to misleading photos, I shake it off and have a seat with him outside.  We order tea and he eats more than one pastry.  It doesn't take me long to discover he's a slow talker.  I HATE slow talkers.  Seriously, just spit it out already, I honestly don't even care what you're saying anyway.  Is the small talk of a first date ever really that great?  Turns out he's talking about me.  He's very interested in my style.  And not in a flattering way, but more of a curious whydoyoudresslikethat way.  I really don't know how to answer his questions, so I end up talking about Elvis and how I thought I sounded just like him for a good portion of my youth.  I don't think he's impressed.

He shifts often and gives the impression of being very uncomfortable at this point.  He keeps looking away and I finally follow his gaze to find out what the hell is so interesting.  He's completely pre-occupied with a woman across the street (not attractive by any means) who is busy taking pictures of the cafe we're sitting at.  He proceeds to make a really big deal about this.  He starts cussing and telling me how she should have a permit if she's taking pictures of strangers and how what she's doing is illegal. 

I decide he's weird and ignore his paranoia by steering the conversation in another direction.  Does he have pets?  No, he doesn't.  I don't either and I tell him that I'm hesitant to have a dog because I know it's going to die before me and why would I nurture and love something that I know I will have to witness die?  I know!  I realize what a bummersville I sound like before finishing my sentence.  However, he not only heartily agrees with this (the first thing we've bonded over), but claims that is the very reason he's never been in a serious relationship.  According to him, all relationships are going to end, so why be in a serious one.  Um.  Yeah.  That's when I decide that along with religion and politics, dogs are never again to be mentioned as first date banter.

Date #33: Friendly reminder to screen better.