Sunday, December 7, 2014

My First Date

Not every person I’ve met has been a one-and-done. I had rather good luck in the early days of Match (“good luck” in a relative sense, you know, compared to most of the other dates I’ve had). Hockey Mom and I started chatting as both of our divorces were being finalized. It was clear there was mutual interest, but neither one of us wanted to taint the beginning of our relationship with the end of our divorces. So we practiced delayed gratification until both of our divorces were final.
NOTE: I will post a lot of pictures of Susan Sarandon. I never knew I had a thing for her. But apparently I do because I've now dated three women all of whom look like Tim Robbins former partner. I'll try to make sure I use the same picture for the same person I'm dated each time I reference that particular person to avoid confusion. Hockey Mom will be the younger Susan Sarandon.

The first date was nice, but nothing special. Today, I’m kind of surprised we ever got to date number 2. Why? Because rash decisions seem to rule the day. If you don’t get the crack hit you are looking for on date 1, well, it should be clear to everyone, stupid, that you have no chemistry and never will.

Ah, but I digress.

Back to Hockey Mom.

We quickly became intimate on date 2, and it wasn’t long before we were being intimate multiple times per day and multiple times per week. The problem was we lived 45 minutes apart.  The need to see each other coupled with the long distance added stress to the relationship, and eventually her doctor (yes, you read that right) told her that our relationship was ruining Hockey Mom’s health.



Deader than a door nail.

Never saw Hockey Mom again.

I believe there is a Hemingway novel that ends with the main character walking away from the hospital where his wife just died. The imagery is that of a man walking alone on a street with fiery wreckage burning behind him. The man has resigned himself to the fact that this is his new reality.

That’s how I look at online dating.

There is no rhyme or reason.

 There just “is.”

People come and go. Dates come and go. Very few are memorable, and then all that's left afterwards are the crickets chirping... and now these stories retold here.

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