I love this post from my friend, ‘Melissa’, because it perfectly illustrates how overwhelming and insane things can get with online dating. Enjoy! – Kate
Have you seen that movie ‘Death Becomes Her’? I love that scene where Goldie Hawn’s character (in a fat suit), living in her apartment, depressed and overrun with cats, eats cake frosting straight from the can. After a whirlwind of a sh** ton of dates, I feel AND need a fat stretchy-pant weekend. A weekend of me, my fat stretchy pants, wine, something good to eat and my cat. And some frosting. Chocolate please.
Here’s a recap:
Friday was my date with Mr. Houseboat. We decided to meet at his place, drinks then off to dinner. Now, I felt pretty safe on the location. Again, my friend Sara knows Ninja skills (so she says) and I’m sure my friend Andy could whack you with a saucepan (he’s an excellent cook by the way). I agreed. I received an email from him a few days before the date. At the houseboat, Seattle dock, gonna have to use a password code to get in, found the boat with the red smaller boat. I had to park at another location, walk to a gate, used a secret pass code, then had to walk 500 miles on a moving dock in high heels. Ok, not really 500, but it sure did feel like it.
There was the dock, a huge expanse of WATER, the boat, then me in high heels. Um, how I’m I going to jump this sh**? There’s a funny scene in ‘Romancing the Stone’ when Michael Douglas’ character meets Kathleen Turner’s character and agrees to take her to a phone booth … further by chopping the heels off her shoes so she can actually walk in them. Nooooo! I don’t want that to happen. I texted him that I was there but how do I get on this boat?
He came down from below. He looked like his photos, dressed nicely, very pleasant, and I heard some Billie Holiday playing in the background. This is all good. Then, I saw them. The hands. Now, before I go further with this story, I’m not here to be MEAN. Really, I’m not. I really do have a thing about people’s hands. I find them quite fixating and would love to photograph them.
Moving on, as his tiny hands reached out, he helped me on board. The boat had two levels. One down to the kitchen, the top to the awesome deck of the VIEW. The view. Water, boats, downtown, Gas Works Park. WOW!
The level of the home was… tiny. Yes, tiny. So I decided to take the shoes off. Small stairs, low ceiling and drinks? Gurl, you’re in danger!
He made us some cocktails and then we went to the deck to make conversation. It went something like this:
“Do you like living in Seattle, Melissa?”, “Where have you been in Europe, Melissa?”, “Do you like red wine, Melissa?” Every sentence had my name after it. At first it was cute then became rather, err, umm, annoying. I slowly got used to it and played along. “How do you like living on a houseboat, Steve?” Two can play this game! After a couple of cocktails I had to pee. Aren’t I just lady like? I asked about where the location of the bathroom was. Out to sea? He said he had to explain to me how to “use it.”
The tiny area of the bathroom had everything normal looking but the toilet. It had a hand pump next to it. ALSO the door had open wooden vents. So, no real door. Ok, with my luck I would flood the toilet, break the handle and then fart. Which could be easily be heard in the kitchen where my date was. I managed not to do either. You pee, pump and then wait. Success!
Ok, no more bathroom talk.
The surprised dinner location was a place called, Tilth. The food was absolutely f***** DELICIOUS! Yummy risotto, tuna steak, pork belly, wine, more wine, then more…He had a vodka tonic, desert wine then we both had the limoncello. OMG, I soon realized my date was loaded!! I was ok but only ok… I made the arrangement to get us back to the boat.
After nice conversation, a wonderful view, and an amazing dinner we called it a night. He was nice guy. But not the fit for me. I would however, like to keep in contact with him again. I think he would be a wonderful new friend.
That same night, I received a text message from a fella who asked if we could meet for a drink. Knowing my liver… sure. Why not.? We met at a local bar near my house- Loretta’s. I really do love that bar. Plus, Amy the bartender was working for safety. They have a killer back patio complete with an Airstream trailer.
My date showed up and right away I texted my friend Sean. “Send help… get over here nooooooooooooooow.”
He looked way older then his photos, had way, WAY too much cologne on and was a Republican from the Middle East. Who knew? He even told me he named his son, Reagan. After, yes, that Ronald Reagan. He then explained to me he was going on the road for a few months to campaign for Mitt Romney. And he was a lawyer. A divorce lawyer. Acck! Fire exit!!
Sean showed up (thankfully) and my date made light conversation and then left. *Whew!*
Saturday I had a second date planned with Mr. New Yorker to the Sounders game. Knowing him, I had a feeling he would be late. And he was. Now in all fairness he does work a lot. So, I killed time at Elysian’s until he arrived. I mixed conversation with the woman next to me – her date was late as well. Ha!
He finally did show up and we adventured inside. I forgot how cute he was. Tall, cute, accent, cute. tall. *sigh* We made our way to our seats and watched the match turn into a tie. He made sure the people behind us could see. One was a little boy with his mother. …I thought that was very kind of him. I let go of his lateness. That truly made up for it.
After the match, he asked if I would like to have dinner some time soon AND gave me his real email address. The next step in 2013 dating – an email address with a full name in it! So, we’ll see what happens next. I would like to see him again… Maybe he will be on time for the third date? Maybe? Here’s hoping…
Sunday, I had a date with a handsome guy. He had a name… that I was not sure how to pronounce. He was originally from Libya, a nuclear engineer and played soccer. This had hit the jackpot on the Melissa hotness scale on so many levels, I can’t even tell you. OMG.
He arrived and was way cuter then his profile photos. He arrived with a single red rose and a mixed music CD he had made for me. Remember getting a mixed tape back in high school from your boyfriend? Impressed! We had drinks, snacks and lots of conversation. Very good conversation. We planned our next date for Black Bottle, a place with actual, real bathrooms. Success!
This weekend: Making NO date arrangments. Just a date with my stretchy-elastic-waist fat pants, red wine, and my cat. And, of course, some frosting.