Nate was one of those guys that I wasn't attracted to in a classical sense. In fact, he looked kind of scary....a cross between a biker bad boy and one of those hairy guys you'd see in Provincetown during Bear week.
The conversation started out nicely enough....we had already exchanged a few pleasant emails and had spoken on the phone a number of times. He offered to "friend" me on facebook, which I politely declined. "I have enough virtual friends and really don't believe in the concept. My facebook account is reserved for "real friends. I'll let you know when you reach that status Nate."
Nate was involved in a life threatening motorcycle accident and had shattered his hip in the process. I was going through a really rough patch having quit smoking and was falling into a very deep, dark depression where I couldn't stop crying and was unable to focus on my work.
Nate was very sweet, supportive and understanding. The only thing that initially bugged me was that he told me he was on medication (anti-depressants) and that he regularly goes to a shrink. Putting that aside and realizing that I had already put him in a "friend" category as opposed to a "romantic interest" category, I continued the dialogue against my better judgment.
Nate had made two tentative dates with me, both of which were broken without a follow up phone call. The obligatory, "I'm sorry, but the dog ate my homework" excuse was never proffered - which really annoyed me. It annoyed me so that the next time Nate called me, I crawled him over the carpet regarding that small issue. I thought he had learned his lesson.
I decided that I did not want to speak to Nate anymore -- either on the phone or correspond via email. And a week later, that's when I got the text: "Hi...I'm having a yummy cheeseburger and I'm thinking of you". My thought was "Who is this and how do you come to associate me with a cheeseburger? Perhaps this is a wrong phone number...I text back, "Who is this?"
He texts me back, "Your buddy Nate". I text him back, "Oh, my virtual friend... I appreciate the sentiment, but real friends call and actually make plans that they keep." Nate texts me back and says, "Suit yourself...Oh by the way, I was in the psych ward at Belview through Thanksgiving. How was your holiday?"
After recounting this story to a friend, she mentioned to me that he mis-spelled Bellvue, a local mental hospital. What I found to be a bit more curious was that his text appeared to have an open ended question associated with it (even though I knew it was a guilt trip!
Monday, December 14, 2009
If I were a "Yes girl"....
Internet dating certainly has its moments. Mostly there are moments where you think, "What was that guy thinking! He's out of his league...he's grossly overweight, his profile picture is 30 years old, he can only type in CAPITAL LETTERS!"
On some rare occasions, there's someone that gets your attention and interest - for good reasons and bad. Steven captured my attention for all of the wrong reasons!
There's nothing like someone who writes to you who insults your place of residence straight out of the gate. Steven's opening letter was for the record books...an interesting mix of arrogance, condescension and charm all rolled into one -- complete with attractive pictures.
Steven chose to begin his dialogue just prior to Thanksgiving with an assumption about me and the note was mostly about him: "You're a bit demanding....here's my plan....i don't do Brooklyn...but I'll bring you into Manhattan in my company car....I'm rich...live on Sutton Place...a bit arrogant..a great guy with a great heart....and looking for someone like you.....S"
I told my friends about this one and they said, why did you even bother responding? It's always a red flag when they say they won't come into your part of town or, mention that they are rich right off the bat. But this is a Jewish dating site! I said to myself, "Give the guy a chance...he's cute and rich can't hurt!" What ensued was a three week give and take that was more give on my part (the thinking) and more take on his.
My grandmother once told me why her 50 year marriage was successful: "Make the man think that whatever you suggest is his idea." I'm 46 years old and I still haven't figured out how to do that. Case in point, case study Steven. Grandma, where are you when I need you!
I have a rule when it comes to internet dating: You must speak to the person on the phone prior to a date. That way you get to screen out the crazies, the nerds, the men with whom you have no rapport and those that have the voice of Pee Wee Herman. Well, this guy Steven would have nothing of it -- it was "his way or the highway", a behavior that is painfully reminiscent of my father and our relationship that once was.
The email banter went back and forth with notable ups and downs. First, I wished him a Happy Thanksgiving and he mentioned that it's always good, especially when he has his daughter. I said, "She must be daddy's little girl". Steven said, "We can discuss her and other things in person when we meet in my town".
Well, the "my town" really pissed me off. So naturally, I responded...
Hi Steven,
I'm in the city all of the time. It's not like I live on Mars, though sometimes I feel that way! :) Last time I checked, it's my town too!
I'd prefer to speak to you so we can make plans and get a better sense of one another. So if it pleases you, I'd really appreciate you giving me call so we can figure things out and get to know one another just a little better.
You can reach me on my landline in the Hamptons. I own a home there and the cell phone reception is awful at my house. I'll be leaving tomorrow am for the city for a client appointment.
Steven's response:
So you actually live in the Hamptons....Doesn't work for me....
My response:
I don't live in the Hamptons. I own two homes...A 2BR coop in downtown Brooklyn and a beach house in Bridgehampton.
His response:
Does it have room for me? I hate motels and have a nice car!
My response:
Only if you're nice to me and pick up the phone! :) It's a cozy 3BR/2BA house South of the highway. :)
His response:
Just like my home in the Hamptons pre-divorce. I have a 2 br 2.5 bath duplex...and your room has a lock on the door...speak to you over the weekend...
My response (I didn't hear from him over the weekend):
I'm back in "our" town now...so if you'd like to reach me this week you can call me on my landline or cell. TTYL mystery man!
His response: "Got it!"
A week goes by and still no word. In the meantime, I go for a mammogram and go back to my computer after the appointment. I have this strange feeling that Steven is calling when I pick up the phone and fail to look at my caller id. I answer the phone not knowing if it's my business line or personal line as winter darkness has set in and I'm sitting in a dark room by my computer. "Hello, this is Janet" I say. Caller: "Hi, Is this the Brooklyn Navy Yard?" Me: (Absolutely convinced this is Steven) "Yes, of course it's the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Caller: "I'm trying to reach the towing compound in your town, Brooklyn!" Me: "If you knew anything about my town, you'd know that the Brooklyn Navy Yard is now a major motion picture film studio. In fact, Brad Pitt is now on the sound stage. (I scream away from the phone, "Hey Angelina, someone is on the phone for Brad...can you get him over here?" Caller: "I'm looking for the towing yard...I think I have the wrong phone number." Me: You can't bullshit a bullshitter. Nice to finally hear from you. Caller: "No, really I think I have the wrong phone number!" Me: "Don't worry about it...sometimes people call my business line and recite their entire chinese food order, you know, "Beef with Broccoli, Pork Lo Mein, 2 Coca Colas before they even give me a chance to let them know they've reached an interior decorating firm". Caller, "Click". Well, at least I never cease to entertain myself!
The week is done and still no word from Steven. I head out to the Hamptons and on the way I get a call from the mammography place that proceeds to tell me that I have firm breasts, i.e., dense breast tissue. As a result, I needed to go back for a sonogram which I thought was on the following Tuesday. I show up at the Sonogram place after the weekend and realize that I got Tuesday right, but got the week wrong - so I decided to go out for some drunken noodles and martinis at a local Thai place.
The more I thought about this guy, the more he pissed me off. So I decided to have a little fun with him and send him a sarcastic email in a tipsy state:
"Dear Steven, I'm so sorry to hear that your fingers are broken. Wishing you a very speedy recovery! All my best, Janet"
Steven responds: "Actually, due to necrosis in both hips...a condition that came on suddenly last December. I had both hips replaced last September....so i am getting back to normal....sorry for not touching base frequently....Steven"
Naturally, I felt really bad and responded in kind, "Hi Steven,
I'm really sorry to hear that!!! I hope you're feeling better soon!
I must apologize.. I was a little tipsy last night after 2 martinis at a local Thai restaurant and thought I'd have a little fun as I truly thought you were a "phone number collector". Out of all the guys who write to me on JDate, I was actually looking forward to hearing from you and was disappointed that I hadn't. You know, there are a ton of really insincere people on this site and I'm not one of them. I'm about to reach my limit with these people and the process.
Feel free to call me when you're feeling up to it. There, I said it...I stand corrected!
Steven responds: "almost 95% i will call...i don't collect #'s not enough space ....2 martini's? my kind of girl...although since the surgery,,,,i get ripped on 3 sips?? whats that from...?"
My response: "Glad to hear that you're at 95% recovery. Ripped on 3 sips? Perhaps it's the pain med's you're still taking(?) or your resistance is lower because you haven't been drinking since the surgery.
Personally, I'm more of a red wine/champagne girl...but sometimes a martini or two hits the spot especially after a rough day!"
Steven: "I don't have any more rough days...I'm rich." He proceeds to go into how he made his money, what stocks he purchased and when with basis prices.
Another day goes by and I receive an email from Steven entitled, "I know me"
im not going to do brooklyn,,,call me what you want...but im honest
Me: I wasn't expecting you to "do Brooklyn". Disappointing because I thought there was a strong possibility with you. I don't expect to find love at my doorstep. Perhaps it's different for you. All I can say is that you're missing out on a great girl with a great head on her shoulders.
Steven: "When you move back to the city."
Me: "Excuse me, I live next door to the Brooklyn Bridge. This has never been an issue with someone who is truly interested in finding a mate. I have a car...a nice one as a matter of fact. We can meet in the city for a drink and see whether there's a connection. What's the big deal? I'm truly perplexed!"
Steven: "That works for me,,,i said im not into going to brooklyn,,,,,nothing against the area but i have all i need here,,i would love to meet the feisty you here for a drink...
Me: "A simple drink was all that was ever on the table! No expectations and perhaps some upside meeting a lovely, handsome Jewish man! And yes you are correct, I am rather feisty in oh so many ways! :)
Steven, I'm getting the impression that you have a tendency to over think things. Sometimes, I do too -- but I always give someone a chance that has potential.
Feel free to call me when you're up to it so we can make plans and introduce ourselves to one another. I'm not big on protracted emails."
By now, it's Friday and I still haven't heard from this guy. I'm annoyed having invested 3 weeks of back and forth banter with no phone call. I decide that this is going nowhere. I need to retract my offer (for my own personal sanity) and send him the following email:
RE: Offer Retracted
Dear Steven,
I'm sorry but I'm going to have to retract my offer to meet you in Manhattan. If you were truly serious about meeting someone, it wouldn't matter if they lived in Downtown Brooklyn or around the corner from you for that matter. Obviously, you don't have all you need in Manhattan - you haven't found the girl!
After a year if things worked out, wouldn't we be moving in together - somewhere in Manhattan?
Wishing you all the best and a very speedy recovery Steven.
His response (which clearly indicates he thinks I'm nuts): "Move in together? LOL! Have you had your coffee yet?"
My final response: "Yes I have had my coffee...evidently, you haven't. I said, if it worked out after a year or two of dating."
And that was the end of that!
What's even more ironic about this interaction is as follows: if I had simply agreed to meet him without speaking to him on the phone, I probably would have met him face to face. It was my insistence that he call me that drove him away before we ever had the chance to meet. I'm sure it would have never worked out anyway. I'm far to outspoken, "demanding" and opinionated for someone like Steven. He simply wants a "Yes girl".
On some rare occasions, there's someone that gets your attention and interest - for good reasons and bad. Steven captured my attention for all of the wrong reasons!
There's nothing like someone who writes to you who insults your place of residence straight out of the gate. Steven's opening letter was for the record books...an interesting mix of arrogance, condescension and charm all rolled into one -- complete with attractive pictures.
Steven chose to begin his dialogue just prior to Thanksgiving with an assumption about me and the note was mostly about him: "You're a bit demanding....here's my plan....i don't do Brooklyn...but I'll bring you into Manhattan in my company car....I'm rich...live on Sutton Place...a bit arrogant..a great guy with a great heart....and looking for someone like you.....S"
I told my friends about this one and they said, why did you even bother responding? It's always a red flag when they say they won't come into your part of town or, mention that they are rich right off the bat. But this is a Jewish dating site! I said to myself, "Give the guy a chance...he's cute and rich can't hurt!" What ensued was a three week give and take that was more give on my part (the thinking) and more take on his.
My grandmother once told me why her 50 year marriage was successful: "Make the man think that whatever you suggest is his idea." I'm 46 years old and I still haven't figured out how to do that. Case in point, case study Steven. Grandma, where are you when I need you!
I have a rule when it comes to internet dating: You must speak to the person on the phone prior to a date. That way you get to screen out the crazies, the nerds, the men with whom you have no rapport and those that have the voice of Pee Wee Herman. Well, this guy Steven would have nothing of it -- it was "his way or the highway", a behavior that is painfully reminiscent of my father and our relationship that once was.
The email banter went back and forth with notable ups and downs. First, I wished him a Happy Thanksgiving and he mentioned that it's always good, especially when he has his daughter. I said, "She must be daddy's little girl". Steven said, "We can discuss her and other things in person when we meet in my town".
Well, the "my town" really pissed me off. So naturally, I responded...
Hi Steven,
I'm in the city all of the time. It's not like I live on Mars, though sometimes I feel that way! :) Last time I checked, it's my town too!
I'd prefer to speak to you so we can make plans and get a better sense of one another. So if it pleases you, I'd really appreciate you giving me call so we can figure things out and get to know one another just a little better.
You can reach me on my landline in the Hamptons. I own a home there and the cell phone reception is awful at my house. I'll be leaving tomorrow am for the city for a client appointment.
Steven's response:
So you actually live in the Hamptons....Doesn't work for me....
My response:
I don't live in the Hamptons. I own two homes...A 2BR coop in downtown Brooklyn and a beach house in Bridgehampton.
His response:
Does it have room for me? I hate motels and have a nice car!
My response:
Only if you're nice to me and pick up the phone! :) It's a cozy 3BR/2BA house South of the highway. :)
His response:
Just like my home in the Hamptons pre-divorce. I have a 2 br 2.5 bath duplex...and your room has a lock on the door...speak to you over the weekend...
My response (I didn't hear from him over the weekend):
I'm back in "our" town now...so if you'd like to reach me this week you can call me on my landline or cell. TTYL mystery man!
His response: "Got it!"
A week goes by and still no word. In the meantime, I go for a mammogram and go back to my computer after the appointment. I have this strange feeling that Steven is calling when I pick up the phone and fail to look at my caller id. I answer the phone not knowing if it's my business line or personal line as winter darkness has set in and I'm sitting in a dark room by my computer. "Hello, this is Janet" I say. Caller: "Hi, Is this the Brooklyn Navy Yard?" Me: (Absolutely convinced this is Steven) "Yes, of course it's the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Caller: "I'm trying to reach the towing compound in your town, Brooklyn!" Me: "If you knew anything about my town, you'd know that the Brooklyn Navy Yard is now a major motion picture film studio. In fact, Brad Pitt is now on the sound stage. (I scream away from the phone, "Hey Angelina, someone is on the phone for Brad...can you get him over here?" Caller: "I'm looking for the towing yard...I think I have the wrong phone number." Me: You can't bullshit a bullshitter. Nice to finally hear from you. Caller: "No, really I think I have the wrong phone number!" Me: "Don't worry about it...sometimes people call my business line and recite their entire chinese food order, you know, "Beef with Broccoli, Pork Lo Mein, 2 Coca Colas before they even give me a chance to let them know they've reached an interior decorating firm". Caller, "Click". Well, at least I never cease to entertain myself!
The week is done and still no word from Steven. I head out to the Hamptons and on the way I get a call from the mammography place that proceeds to tell me that I have firm breasts, i.e., dense breast tissue. As a result, I needed to go back for a sonogram which I thought was on the following Tuesday. I show up at the Sonogram place after the weekend and realize that I got Tuesday right, but got the week wrong - so I decided to go out for some drunken noodles and martinis at a local Thai place.
The more I thought about this guy, the more he pissed me off. So I decided to have a little fun with him and send him a sarcastic email in a tipsy state:
"Dear Steven, I'm so sorry to hear that your fingers are broken. Wishing you a very speedy recovery! All my best, Janet"
Steven responds: "Actually, due to necrosis in both hips...a condition that came on suddenly last December. I had both hips replaced last September....so i am getting back to normal....sorry for not touching base frequently....Steven"
Naturally, I felt really bad and responded in kind, "Hi Steven,
I'm really sorry to hear that!!! I hope you're feeling better soon!
I must apologize.. I was a little tipsy last night after 2 martinis at a local Thai restaurant and thought I'd have a little fun as I truly thought you were a "phone number collector". Out of all the guys who write to me on JDate, I was actually looking forward to hearing from you and was disappointed that I hadn't. You know, there are a ton of really insincere people on this site and I'm not one of them. I'm about to reach my limit with these people and the process.
Feel free to call me when you're feeling up to it. There, I said it...I stand corrected!
Steven responds: "almost 95% i will call...i don't collect #'s not enough space ....2 martini's? my kind of girl...although since the surgery,,,,i get ripped on 3 sips?? whats that from...?"
My response: "Glad to hear that you're at 95% recovery. Ripped on 3 sips? Perhaps it's the pain med's you're still taking(?) or your resistance is lower because you haven't been drinking since the surgery.
Personally, I'm more of a red wine/champagne girl...but sometimes a martini or two hits the spot especially after a rough day!"
Steven: "I don't have any more rough days...I'm rich." He proceeds to go into how he made his money, what stocks he purchased and when with basis prices.
Another day goes by and I receive an email from Steven entitled, "I know me"
im not going to do brooklyn,,,call me what you want...but im honest
Me: I wasn't expecting you to "do Brooklyn". Disappointing because I thought there was a strong possibility with you. I don't expect to find love at my doorstep. Perhaps it's different for you. All I can say is that you're missing out on a great girl with a great head on her shoulders.
Steven: "When you move back to the city."
Me: "Excuse me, I live next door to the Brooklyn Bridge. This has never been an issue with someone who is truly interested in finding a mate. I have a car...a nice one as a matter of fact. We can meet in the city for a drink and see whether there's a connection. What's the big deal? I'm truly perplexed!"
Steven: "That works for me,,,i said im not into going to brooklyn,,,,,nothing against the area but i have all i need here,,i would love to meet the feisty you here for a drink...
Me: "A simple drink was all that was ever on the table! No expectations and perhaps some upside meeting a lovely, handsome Jewish man! And yes you are correct, I am rather feisty in oh so many ways! :)
Steven, I'm getting the impression that you have a tendency to over think things. Sometimes, I do too -- but I always give someone a chance that has potential.
Feel free to call me when you're up to it so we can make plans and introduce ourselves to one another. I'm not big on protracted emails."
By now, it's Friday and I still haven't heard from this guy. I'm annoyed having invested 3 weeks of back and forth banter with no phone call. I decide that this is going nowhere. I need to retract my offer (for my own personal sanity) and send him the following email:
RE: Offer Retracted
Dear Steven,
I'm sorry but I'm going to have to retract my offer to meet you in Manhattan. If you were truly serious about meeting someone, it wouldn't matter if they lived in Downtown Brooklyn or around the corner from you for that matter. Obviously, you don't have all you need in Manhattan - you haven't found the girl!
After a year if things worked out, wouldn't we be moving in together - somewhere in Manhattan?
Wishing you all the best and a very speedy recovery Steven.
His response (which clearly indicates he thinks I'm nuts): "Move in together? LOL! Have you had your coffee yet?"
My final response: "Yes I have had my coffee...evidently, you haven't. I said, if it worked out after a year or two of dating."
And that was the end of that!
What's even more ironic about this interaction is as follows: if I had simply agreed to meet him without speaking to him on the phone, I probably would have met him face to face. It was my insistence that he call me that drove him away before we ever had the chance to meet. I'm sure it would have never worked out anyway. I'm far to outspoken, "demanding" and opinionated for someone like Steven. He simply wants a "Yes girl".
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Lowered Standards
I had a conversation with a super cool married friend of mine this morning who was laughing about all of the dates from Hell that I've experienced that truly are for the record books. I'm sure there are tons of these stories out there, but to me, it never ceases to amaze me about the stupidity, cluelessness, thoughtlessness and sheer rudeness that's out there in the singles world.
Recounting the date was something that in retrospect, proved quite healthy to me in order to provide some insight on the situation. I mean, you don't get feedback after a date. And I was beginning to wonder, should I choose to personalize this or is it them?
Lionel, a relatively handsome man in his late '50's is a novelist and public relations director for a major cable television station who I met on an internet dating site. He's divorced and has a 19 year old child. In a former life, he worked in the film business and still to this day gets free movie passes.
Last time I checked, a man is supposed to attempt to try to impress a woman if he is sincerely interested. Since I made it to second base,i.e., date #2, I assumed that he had a nice evening planned -- a movie screening in midtown and dinner at a charming restaurant.
I tell my married friend that I met him at the movie screening in Midtown. It was the new Tom Ford movie, "A Single Man", that focuses in on the life of a gay English professor living in Southern California in the 1960's. The movie opens with a scene of someone dying in an automobile accident in a snowy setting. As the movie progresses, we come to learn early on that it was the professor's lover/partner that died in the crash and that his lover's family refuses to let the professor attend the funeral. Throughout the movie, the professor attempts to commit suicide and can't bring himself to it. Let me tell you -- the movie was 2.5 hours long or at least it felt that it was 2.5 hours too long. It was so depressing that I wanted to slit my wrists. I wanted to walk out of the movie, which I rarely do. My date Lionel mentioned that he takes these movie screenings seriously so walking out was not a possibility.
After 2.5 hours of sheer depressing torture with nothing redeeming or hopeful in the movie plot, Lionel says that instead of going to the charming Argentine/Italian restaurant he planned on taking me to, we should go for Japanese food around the corner. We walk around the corner and he shows me a hole in the wall restaurant in the middle of Times Square....a restaurant that is lit up with florescent lighting and has a plastic menu of Udon noodle soups in the window -- something that you'd see in a touristy area in Tokyo. The only thing that was missing was the plastic sculptures of the food in the window. I said to him very politely, do you think we can go to a place with a bit more ambiance? I mean, the place has florescent lighting and no sushi! He says, "Sure" and we move on to the other restaurant. I then proceed to ask him "What were you thinking...I mean, florescent lights, plastic menu in window...all that was missing was the plastic food in the window." Lionel tells me blankly, "I guess I wasn't"
We proceed to the original agreed upon restaurant and as soon as we are seated, Lionel proceeds to knock over the bud vase, spilling water all over the table. In the back of my mind I'm thinking this guy is a complete mess. His incisor tooth which juts out of his bite ever so slightly really begins to get on my nerves. I'm thinking, there's something wrong with this guy. Something is not right about this picture, but he's nice...so have a good time. We order dinner, have a pleasant enough conversation and we leave.
I usually don't take subways at night and told this to Lionel during one of the several telephone conversations I've had with him. They are filled with scummy people from 3rd world countries and their various germs. It is a recession though. So when Lionel said we'd take the subway back to our neck of the woods together, I agreed. What I didn't count on what getting stuck for 45 minutes on a crowded train with these people and my date. All Lionel kept doing was complain about the particular train line we took and how much he hates it. I told him that's why I prefer to take cabs in the evening, but we're here so we need to deal. I kept focusing on his teeth.
I don't know about anyone who is reading this blog, but getting stuck on a NYC subway is akin to getting stuck on a crowded elevator with someone who has bad breath. While Lionel didn't have bad breath, he had that incisor tooth that seemed to grow larger by the minute and stick out of his mouth more and more as the night wore on. I couldn't wait to get off the train and leave my snaggle toothed date!!
As the train approached my station, Lionel asked me if I blamed him for the bad movie. I said, "Absolutely not". The train rolled into my station, he gave me a peck on the cheek and said he would call me over the weekend.
I came home and wondered...should I give this guy a chance? What if he calls me...what should I do? I asked my girlfriends the next day. A divorced fashion executive friend of mine said, "Absolutely not!! A girl has to have standards." I pondered that concept and agreed.
Then, I told a married friend about the story and she laughed. She said facetiously, "I lowered my standards and have been happy ever since....that's when I met my husband!"
Recounting the date was something that in retrospect, proved quite healthy to me in order to provide some insight on the situation. I mean, you don't get feedback after a date. And I was beginning to wonder, should I choose to personalize this or is it them?
Lionel, a relatively handsome man in his late '50's is a novelist and public relations director for a major cable television station who I met on an internet dating site. He's divorced and has a 19 year old child. In a former life, he worked in the film business and still to this day gets free movie passes.
Last time I checked, a man is supposed to attempt to try to impress a woman if he is sincerely interested. Since I made it to second base,i.e., date #2, I assumed that he had a nice evening planned -- a movie screening in midtown and dinner at a charming restaurant.
I tell my married friend that I met him at the movie screening in Midtown. It was the new Tom Ford movie, "A Single Man", that focuses in on the life of a gay English professor living in Southern California in the 1960's. The movie opens with a scene of someone dying in an automobile accident in a snowy setting. As the movie progresses, we come to learn early on that it was the professor's lover/partner that died in the crash and that his lover's family refuses to let the professor attend the funeral. Throughout the movie, the professor attempts to commit suicide and can't bring himself to it. Let me tell you -- the movie was 2.5 hours long or at least it felt that it was 2.5 hours too long. It was so depressing that I wanted to slit my wrists. I wanted to walk out of the movie, which I rarely do. My date Lionel mentioned that he takes these movie screenings seriously so walking out was not a possibility.
After 2.5 hours of sheer depressing torture with nothing redeeming or hopeful in the movie plot, Lionel says that instead of going to the charming Argentine/Italian restaurant he planned on taking me to, we should go for Japanese food around the corner. We walk around the corner and he shows me a hole in the wall restaurant in the middle of Times Square....a restaurant that is lit up with florescent lighting and has a plastic menu of Udon noodle soups in the window -- something that you'd see in a touristy area in Tokyo. The only thing that was missing was the plastic sculptures of the food in the window. I said to him very politely, do you think we can go to a place with a bit more ambiance? I mean, the place has florescent lighting and no sushi! He says, "Sure" and we move on to the other restaurant. I then proceed to ask him "What were you thinking...I mean, florescent lights, plastic menu in window...all that was missing was the plastic food in the window." Lionel tells me blankly, "I guess I wasn't"
We proceed to the original agreed upon restaurant and as soon as we are seated, Lionel proceeds to knock over the bud vase, spilling water all over the table. In the back of my mind I'm thinking this guy is a complete mess. His incisor tooth which juts out of his bite ever so slightly really begins to get on my nerves. I'm thinking, there's something wrong with this guy. Something is not right about this picture, but he's nice...so have a good time. We order dinner, have a pleasant enough conversation and we leave.
I usually don't take subways at night and told this to Lionel during one of the several telephone conversations I've had with him. They are filled with scummy people from 3rd world countries and their various germs. It is a recession though. So when Lionel said we'd take the subway back to our neck of the woods together, I agreed. What I didn't count on what getting stuck for 45 minutes on a crowded train with these people and my date. All Lionel kept doing was complain about the particular train line we took and how much he hates it. I told him that's why I prefer to take cabs in the evening, but we're here so we need to deal. I kept focusing on his teeth.
I don't know about anyone who is reading this blog, but getting stuck on a NYC subway is akin to getting stuck on a crowded elevator with someone who has bad breath. While Lionel didn't have bad breath, he had that incisor tooth that seemed to grow larger by the minute and stick out of his mouth more and more as the night wore on. I couldn't wait to get off the train and leave my snaggle toothed date!!
As the train approached my station, Lionel asked me if I blamed him for the bad movie. I said, "Absolutely not". The train rolled into my station, he gave me a peck on the cheek and said he would call me over the weekend.
I came home and wondered...should I give this guy a chance? What if he calls me...what should I do? I asked my girlfriends the next day. A divorced fashion executive friend of mine said, "Absolutely not!! A girl has to have standards." I pondered that concept and agreed.
Then, I told a married friend about the story and she laughed. She said facetiously, "I lowered my standards and have been happy ever since....that's when I met my husband!"
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