This was my week of dates. For whatever reason, the stars aligned and I had 2 planned back to back. I seem to have an amazing skill of planning these random influxes of men during my busiest work weeks, but I suppose there are worse things to complain about. So, here is the run down.
First, I met up with Linguini on Wednesday. We met at a typical happy hour spot in the Loop which was lovely. It was easy to get to, and I was already pretty familiar with the specials. He's a tall guy, 6'2", and when I strategically wear flats, I look short-ish. He is bearded (yes, I was excited) and not bad looking by any means. We chatted for about an hour and a half before I had to leave for bowling practice. Of course my bowling league takes precedence over my dating life - and I wonder why I'm single.
We talked for a solid 10 minutes on the merits of Holiday Inn, which is my all-time favorite Christmas movie. So, obviously I was more than a little smitten. I appreciated his confidence...he mentioned a couple times that we should hang out again, and it was the first ever first date where the guy told me I looked pretty. I appreciated the compliment as well.
Overall, I liked him. I haven't heard from him yet, but I get the feeling he's one of those "wait 3-days" guys. Which is fine, I'm not in a rush. And I'm also not obsessed and feeling like I absolutely have to see him again. I don't know if it's the stress from work or the date last night, but I'm not going to be heartbroken if he doesn't call. I am however, keeping my fingers crossed that he does.
Date number two was slightly more eventful. Not that we had a great time, but mainly because it was the worst date I have ever been on. It wasn't bad in the "I am totally going to stick this out because it's hilarious" way either. It was "I feel more awkward than when I got that bowl cut in 6th grade" bad.
Let's back up a minute. I do not like the Beach Boys. Specifically, I kind of hate Brian Wilson for getting out of bed. Here's the deal - can someone explain to me what is so goddamn special about California girls? We Midwestern girl are pretty friggin' awesome. And no, we do NOT want to be California girls. Seriously, Katy Perry. I should have remembered this hatred when I found out that my date was California-bred. Unfortunately, I pictured sexy surfer not loser stoner.
On paper, I thought this guy was perfect. Third year law student, Jewish, and pretty cute. I can't ask for much more than that. He picked a pretty classy bar in Logan Square (Scofflaw - solid gin drinks and cute staff), and despite meeting up after his class at 9:30pm, I was optimistic. To be fair, I had cancelled on him for a slightly earlier scheduled date on Tuesday, so I can't even complain about the time.
When I walked in, the doorman hit on me. This turned out to be the highlight of the night. My date had sat at the bar. No cozy table or booth (of which there were easily 10 available as the bar wraps around the entire corner), we were stuck doing the "where are you from" conversation in front of the bartender. Ooooookay.
Double bonus? Cali is a mumbler. So, the combination of the din of the bar plus the music plus not even having an intimate space means I can't hear anything. I lived next to the L tracks for 2 years, so my hearing is shit anyway. This was not shaping up to be a good experience.
I don't know where it went wrong, really. I think it was just awkward from the beginning. There wasn't a whole lot for us to talk about. I tried asking about his school, work, experience in Chicago...I got nothing back. Or, I couldn't hear what he said and awkwardly giggled or smiled with an ambiguous head nod.
He mentioned that his dad was an accountant, so he asked me a little bit about my job. I try not to talk about work, because I know it's not particularly exciting to my dates. After I did my usual 2 second overview, he started talking about his dad. Who went to prison. For embezzlement. For 5 years. He "just" got out about 10 years ago, and he was stripped of his license. But, yanno...he still practices. Ummmm, well, this certainly took a nasty turn. Not that I particularly judge people for time-served, but I do judge people who think that it's appropriate conversation on a get-to-know-you first date. Dear god, man!
I had already decided to have only one beverage when he decided to order a second and food. It was by far the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. Who orders food alone while on a date? I didn't even know what to do. So, when his sandwich came, I went to the bathroom to avoid sitting there.
The pauses between spurts of conversation were so long, it was deafeningly painful. He actually asked me if I like "different kinds of music". No, I only listen to songs with a steel drum.
I think the worst part was his innate need to tell pointless stories for far too long. He kept going on and on about one of his buddies jumping off some cliff in California and hitting all the rocks on the way down. I was over the story after that one sentence, but he easily spent 5 minutes on it (equivalent to 8% of our date as I didn't stay past 1 hour). I also could not interject my own experience or agree with his story, as he was a watermark talker.
What is a watermark talker? Think about a watermark. You usually have the option for behind the text or over the text. He was an over the text watermark. Meaning, he would keep talking as I was talking. And not back down and fade behind my text.
Like I said at the beginning of this diatribe, I'm not entirely sure why this date felt so terrible. He didn't grope me or verbally assault me. He wasn't outright rude or a dick. But that was far and away the worst date I have ever been on. So bad in fact that I didn't even bother with the check dance and left $10 on the bar for the gin drink. He oddly thanked me for that too. I seriously hope he didn't think I bought him dinner.
Oh, and true to Cali spirit - I'm about 90% sure he was stoned too.
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