Sigh.
O, gather 'round, ye children, and listen to my tale of "whoa!" This is a cautionary story about The Perils of Online Dating.
So I went on my date last night, and in a completely unexpected turn of events, he was more into me than I was into him. I mean, huh? That was really the one eventuality I hadn't planned on. Like, at all. The fact of the matter is, I knew there was going to be problemage right off the bat.
But let me begin at the very beginning.
Well, sort of the very beginning. I'll start yesterday at six o'clock when I was running around my apartment, throwing clothes on and off like a burlesque dancer with early onset of dementia, while May Day tried to assure me that I didn't look as bad as I thought I did. I was wearing my new sweater, which was very nice, but my hair just wouldn't play the game.
"Your hair looks fine," May Day promised. I accused her of just trying to make me feel better, to which she replied, "I know how important this is; I would tell you to your face if you looked like shit."
And she would, too, bless her. Anyway, I hurried out the door and hustled off to Beverly Hills, where I was to meet my date. Of course, I arrived first, which immediately put me in a certain frame of mind. It's a well-known fact that the first person to arrive automatically has the advantage, and I wasn't sure I wanted the advantage, given how much I was spazzing out. After about five or ten minutes, he arrived.
Now I should mention here that we met online. No, not through Hot or Not (he wasn't a sk8er boi), but a separate entity all together.
So here's the thing: remember how I said he was all hot and Vartan-ly? Well, er...I kind of lied (Sigh. Sorry, Jessica). See, it turns out the picture he sent me was taken at a very...forgiving angle. I'm not saying he was fugly, because he wasn't -- and from that angle, he was actually quite attractive -- but he didn't look as mind-bendingly hot in person as his picture had appeared.
Actually, I was fine with that. I felt like we were on more equal footing, what with him being a mortal and all. However, he also had some very...peculiar tendencies. I mean, his voice was a little weird, and he did this odd thing with his mouth (not like that, you pervs) that was sort of off-putting. And I'm really big on lips -- kissing is the shit, yo -- and his were just not doing it for me.
I hope that doesn't sound terribly shallow, because I certainly have enough quirks to confound an army of neuroanalysts and would never hold such things against a person, but the upshot of it was that the pistons were not firing when first we met.
At least, not for me. I became aware, however, that he was into me rather quickly. Part of it was that he watched me the whole night long, never once looking away, and...well, I can read body language all right. Plus which, he asked me everything about myself a person could possibly ask. I mean, I would be just finishing up answering one question and he'd already be asking me another. This didn't do much to help my Try Not To Monopolize The Evening strategy.
But, and this factor was particularly irksome, he kind of deferred to me. A lot. I mean, like I said, by arriving first I already had the advantage, but he didn't seem to want to call any shots at all. And it's not like I'm looking for someone to be in charge of me -- I would lose my mind in about four seconds, flat -- but I'd like to meet someone who will go toe-to-toe with me. You know, someone I can banter with and who, when I push, will push back.
Also, it felt not unlike those relationships you have in high school where you hang out with someone because you kind of know each other from a class, and then you run into each other while waiting outside the nurse's office and decide to talk, but you just don't have that much in common. So that was another strike.
Man, I feel like a low-down shit for saying all this stuff, because he was really a nice guy. It's just that I really felt no sparks at all. I mean, I would look at him and I couldn't conceive of ever kissing him, which is really very telling, I think.
Anyway, even after he stopped asking me questions, I found myself babbling on and on about me me me, just like I was afraid I would. I mean, it's such an odious thing to do! It's arrogant, rude, and extremely unattractive, like, dude, if you're so great, why don't you just date yourself? And maybe that's why I did it. I'd already decided that there just wasn't anything there romantically, and maybe I was just trying to make him lose interest in me. It may have worked, too, since before we said goodbye I got the feeling he was getting a little impatient about it.
Of course, when we actually did say goodbye, I wasn't sure what to tell him. I mean, "Hey, it was fun! Let's not do it again!" probably isn't the way to make friends and influence people. So I told him to go ahead and call me when he got back. Don't give me that look, though, because I didn't lead him on or anything. I didn't kiss him or otherwise indicate that kissing was in the offing. Plus, the point had already been made in our prior communications that what was being sought was friendship, first and foremost. So, we can be friends, and that's fine.
The good news is that he didn't turn tail and run when I detailed my television addiction, and he seemed pretty understanding regarding my occasional need for hermitage. Also, he didn't raise a(n admittedly attractive) brow at the number of times I mentioned May Day in regards to my leisure time. I'm loaded with May Day stories, and after hearing me mention her sixteen or seventeen times in one conversation, lots of people begin to fear that we're linked psychically, or something, but not so he.
Also to his credit, he didn't even blink when I accidentally locked myself in the bathroom of the Cafe, which was truly an embarrassing moment for me, given that my blood sugar was bottoming out, my caffeine levels were spiking, and I was actually trying to let myself out of the bathroom through the storage closet rather than the door I'd just walked in through moments earlier. Did I mention how I'm a big spazz?
Anyway, the point is that I didn't feel any sparks, but I'm afraid that he may have, which puts me in the awkward position of trying to figure out how to get my message of non-romantic intentions across without being rude or presumptuous about it.
Why don't they make fucking field guides for this shit?
