A new series!
This series is devoted to sharing stories in which I’m mostly to blame for a date having gone wrong. Strike that. Partly to blame. I’ll let you decide whether I should shoulder most of the blame. One might be tempted to compare this series to the “Egg on My Face” series. That would be misguided. The “Egg on My Face” series is intended to make fun of myself. This series is intended to play devil’s advocate and suggest, despite my constant datebashing, perhaps Lex should look in the mirror and own up.
No humor intended. Just some cold, hard analysis.
Make sense?
OK.
Maybe it will.
After the jump.
We all know who my favorite target is on this blog.
Yup.
Suzy I.
You remember her. She favorited me on her first day on Match, and when I told her I was already seeing someone, plowed right through that wall, and wore me down, worked me up, and finally, at the height of our emailing and texting frenzy, secured a dinner invitation from me.
I thought the dinner went OK. Steak, wine, fancy restaurant and FIVE HOURS OF CONVERSATION. I mean, how awful could it have been? And yet somehow it was. We never saw each other again. I'll recount her reasons in another post. But for now, let's look at my behavior.
First, a prefatory note. I'm almost 50. The days of me drooling over women has long since passed. Hell, my Ex looked like Meg Ryan and I never drooled over her. So, needless to say, I wasn't breathless or speechless at the sight of Suzy I sitting across from me.
Oh contraire.
I was just as gabby in person as I was in email or text.
The only difference was we were now in person.
In person I'm a slightly different beast, at least at first. I can be a bit aloof. My conversation can be a bit on the intellectual side, and, if you can't keep up, well, I don't know, maybe I start to doze off and lose interest. Even when you are keeping my interest, I try to pay attention and listen, which can be misconstrued as passive. Finally, I've been known to wear some nerdy rectangular shaped glasses (think Michael Douglas in Falling Down).
Doesn't this sound sexy and appealing? I'm almost like that picture of Bill Buckley above, only instead of a desk of books and papers shielding me from you I have my cerebral and educated demeanor doing the job for me.
In my defense, Suzy I was no intellectual lightweight.She had a Masters degree in journalism, and wasn't afraid to share her opinions on a wide range of political, social, or economic issues. She also wore her own pair of nerdy glasses. Neither of us was sending signals that we were hot and bothered.
But I guess the question is whose job is it to be the aggressor? Tradition would say me. Perhaps I was spoiled from my Jim Morrison days when I never pursued anyone, and today I just refuse to be that person, the territorial, possessive, hormonally-driven Neanderthal. In private, sure, I'll push the envelope. Put me on a couch next to my date and I'll make sure the woman knows I'm interested and ready. In public, I'd rather be respectful, especially on a first date.
And in the end you know what her biggest "complaint" about me was?
I made her feel "safe."
Oh no.
What a terrible thing to have happened on a first date.
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