Dating Blogger Emily: POP
Do you ever wish you had a playbook for your life? You could be on a date or in the fetal stages of a relationship and take just a peak ahead. You'd find out if the guy was a total … Read More
Do you ever wish you had a playbook for your life? You could be on a date or in the fetal stages of a relationship and take just a peak ahead. You'd find out if the guy was a total perve, a hidden asshole or had some type of quirk like collecting stuffed animals (i.e. my last date) but I guess that would take the fun, if you can call it that, out of the journey.
I went out with Perfect on Paper (POP) and I knew I should feel something, anything for him. We met through the dating hellscape of J-Date. I have a love hate relationship with this online monster. While it generates lots of dating potential, the majority of these men are such duds that it's making me debate an alternative lifestyle choice. With my luck I would find the one lesbian who also collected stuffed animals, itemized a bill, or even listened to Jesus music at full blast. But I digress.
POP and I chatted for a week before the actual date. While I am a total sucker for deep conversation or even decent conversation from a guy in the early stages, I should have sensed something was maybe a wee bit awry. He shared all the stories that a woman in her early thirties (so early that I am clinging to 30 with a death grip) would want to hear. POP has a great family, wants to get married, likes to travel, is a lawyer; all those things that make your brain and heart do a little waltz. But as much as I wanted to feel head over heels over heart…I just didn't.
He picked me up and I had the sense that I was dating my father, not because he was so old, but just because he was so not young. He was trying desperately to be hip and fabulous which made the whole experience a bit sad. He was only 37 but he made Regis Philbin look like a regular hipster
He took me to one of favorite haunts, The Hungry Cat and we sat at the bar ate and shared stories. At the bar, this is when his alter ego, Octopus Man emerged and like Houdini I had hands appearing everywhere touching my back, my arm, my thigh. I hadn't been touched this much since my last OB/GYN appointment. That said, the conversation wasn't bad and I have no idea why I felt the need, the desire to give him another chance. I was faking it. I faked the first date.
In the car he pulled out his Blackberry and said "I know this sounds a bit rushed but I would love to take you to out to dinner next week with my very best friends. As if I had Tourettes I blurted out "Okay." WHY DID I DO THAT?
The week that followed involved me competing in the Olympic sport of call screening. I had to gear myself up for chatting with him. His conversations displayed his many, many, years of therapy and his desire to show how grounded he was. This man had so much baggage I could shop him instead of the Samsonsite store. Yet I couldn't cancel the dinner. On every call he enthused about me, and about how excited he was to share me with his best friends and I just wasn't sure what to do. As much as I do love being the center of attention, he was gushing like a fountain. I wanted to throw a coin at him and make a wish. I was drowning in complement…it was too much too soon.
Do I cancel on him after the buildup or do I go and give him a chance over a lovely expensive meal?