I'm seven minutes away from the pub, and he sounds pretty awesome. He's switching careers, but going into a field that sounds like you must be compassionate, at the least, to do so. He's 46, sure a little bit old for me, but my best friend's husband is 42, and he acts and looks just like we do, despite the 10 year difference, so hey, why not. I'm game. I'll give it a shot. His pics are decent. He lists his body type as being "jacked." He sounds like he is a good dad. He lives nearby. He sounds like he can take charge in the bedroom and toss me around for some good romps. He sounds like a dream. I sound delusional.
So, we've been emailing on the website, and he did start
flirting hard and almost immediately turned it super sexual, but I laugh
it off, and you know, I know this is a bad sign, but he sounds sooo
nice. And in my heart, I want him to be nice and not a creepy old dude. You know me, I give them a chance. Even when I shouldn't. So, I
scrutinize the pics again, and meh, not that great, but hey attraction
can grow, right? right?
And he sounded like a reasonable guy who wasn't a douchebag (which is,
by the way, totally on my "must haves" list). You may not know it, but
the area below my belt is a douchebag free zone.
I parked the car, and then totally saw a spot closer. And not because I'm lazy, but because this is NYC and I'd like my car to not get stolen, I walked all the way back to my car, flipped a bitch, and moved it. Ok, ok, and I wanted a quicker escape route outta there for when the shit hits the fan. Come on, it is one of MY dates, afterall. What do you expect? Roses and happily ever after? Yeah, ok. Can you really blame me???? It's a wonder I didn't have the date while still in my car with the keys in the ignition and shaft in drive!
So, I adjust my skirt, the damm waistband of which is always halfway to my neck, and fix that underthing I wear to keep the girls (and maybe some bits of gigglyfat) wrestled down and in place, and start walking up the hill to the pub where we are meeting. It is about 11:15pm, and in the glow the of the streetlight, I see a man standing outside, all in black, with a bowed gait, a belly that looks like he is carrying triplets to term, a mushed up tiny face, and frog lips.
And immediately, I know.
This is him.
Who else would this guy be there for????? OF COURSE this is MY date. Who else wants to date my ass. Spectacular.
And then, as usual, I woke the fuck up from that dream of happiness. Rudely. He looks like one of my dad's friends. Like if my dad said, hey this is my buddy so and so, it would be totally normal. Except that he isn't. He's my porn talking naughty email writing date.
As I see him, those nasty naughty emails he sent me where he talked about throwing me on the couch, ripping off my panties, and forcing himself into my pussy (yep, he said that) ---the ones that an hour ago seemed overly dirty but yet somewhat provocative in a naughty way, slap me right in the face as the memory floods back and crashes into the image before me--and totally made my gag reflex start kicking. Cause really, who wants to bone your dad's buddies? Oh, therapy, please. Lots of therapy.
What the fuck. Seriously, when he said "jacked," oohh I get it, he meant "jacked UP," b/c there was nothing jacked about him. Unless you mean jacked, like "I got jacked," or "someone jacked my car"--then I could see it. TRIPLETS. TRIPPPPPPLLLLETS. Seriously, I'm a woman and I don't think I'd ever look THAT pregnant. The best part was where the shirt drops off and hangs like a blanket over a cliff, off the huge stomach and flaps in the wind below. Soooo sexy yo.
Now, I don't care that he isn't "jacked"--jacked isn't even on my list of what I'd love to find in a guy. Sure, if you happen to have some muscles I'm not gonna kick you face first out of my bed, but it isn't a pre-requisite. Just be honest. I appreciate honesty. Although, "old and creepy" probably doesn't sell as well as "jacked."
His face was nothing like his photos. Well, I mean, back in 1989 his face obviously did look like his photos, but not recently. And his shirtless photo with the muscles, um, photoshop maybe? Because maybe he does have muscles, but they must have been in hiding under his HUGE ASS BEER BELLY. Also, his arms were soft, so I'm calling bullshit on the jacked description. Again, it never fails, men describe themselves soooo inaccurately on those dating sites. I wonder, in all seriousness, is it that they truly see themselves that way or just a ploy to lure you in? He had these froggy lips, you know the kind where you can't see the person's teeth and they are all flat and thin and wide, and it's just creepy. And his face was kind of small (although maybe it was just when juxtaposed to his huge belly that it looked so tiny), and he had a wandering eye, and I don't mean that he was checking out ladies nearby.
The bartender looked (which I'm going to take as a compliment), thoroughly confused at our being together at this bar. He told me he doesn't drink, so of course, he proceeded to have two beers. I had a seltzer, and let me tell you, that lime was the highlight of my evening.
I tried to be average, to be not super friendly and engaging. I don't mean to be a bitch, but if I'm myself, I can chit chat with just about anyone; I see value in people and their experiences. But if I did that here, he would take it as me being interested in him in a romantic/sexual way, and I didn't want to lead him on. And then there was the part that he kept trying to touch my leg--and that coupled with the dirty emails he had started to send me--I knew I was in treacherous waters there. Back away slooowwwllly.
Then he mentions that he has 2 kids and a crazy ex-wife who likes to violate their visitation and he has to call the cops weekly. (Sounds like dating would be sooo fun with this guy, no?) Then he asks if I know so and so, who turns out to be kind of someone above me at work. Awesome. It's a small world after allllll, it's a small world after all, it's a small small world. Small seems to be the theme of the evening.
I waited 45 minutes and ran out of there like my pants were on fire. Thank goodness I parked close!!!!
The icing on the cake? That person above me at work is about 10 years older than me, and she is dating this guy's YOUNGER brother. That's right. I'm on a date with the OLDER brother. OLDER. Me. OLDER brother. ME. OLDER BROTHER!
Someone kill me.