It is one thing to have a bad date, an uneventful evening or a disappointing encounter but it is a bit of a kick to the gut to have two of them within 24 hours. I was able to experience this wonderful rare occurrence one weekend when I met Jason on a Saturday evening and Chris for a Sunday beer. A huge letdown of a night followed by a frightfest of an afternoon. How could a girl get so lucky?
Jason sent me an email, I checked out his profile and I was immediately impressed. He had a Cake song lyric as his headline, he had traveled all over the world and he was a neurologist at a hospital in Seattle. I liked, I liked! We exchanged a few emails back and forth and we then agreed to meet at a local brewery the next weekend for a drink. I started counting the days in anticipation.
I walked into the bar and looked around for my strapping doctor of a date but there was no one that looked really anything like Jason’s photos. A guy at a table near the bar stood up and waved at me and my stomach suddenly sank. He was so not what I thought he was going to look like. He was at least six inches shorter than me and just…tiny. He was a small shadow of a man. Crap. I sat down and Jason and I had what was at best a decent conversation. He was shy, but cool, and we did manage to piece together some semblance of a discussion.
The trouble came when I asked about Jason’s job. He hadn’t said which hospital he worked at and, when he told me, I got my second bad feeling of the night. I have a medical condition that is totally manageable but that I don’t mention on first dates – it can be a bit of a buzzkill in that situation – and, it turned out, Jason worked in the same hospital as my doctor. I tried to be casual and ask if he by chance knew her and, oh, no, he told me that he worked two doors down from her and they were actually great friends. Crap, crap. And, lucky me, I had an appointment with her in two days. What were the odds of this lucky coincidence?
I briefly mulled over lying or not saying anything else but what was the point? The truth was going to come out sooner or later and, as I thought it might, any chance I had with Jason disappeared as soon as I mentioned my appointment. Was it the condition he maybe thought I had? Was it a professional guideline that he couldn’t date me? Or maybe was it that he sensed that I wasn’t attracted to his troll-like appearance? Either way, the air went right out of that balloon of an evening. We finished our drinks, said our goodbyes and that was that. It seemed we both knew the outcome of this adventure. But there was still hope! I had Chris to meet the next day!
I had only exchanged about two emails with Chris when he asked if, by chance, I had time to meet him for a drink that Sunday. From what little I knew about him he seemed fun, relatively harmless and there was a sunny day in the Seattle forecast. How bad could a drink on a patio be?
I realized as I drove to meet Chris that I knew really nothing about him other than his age and his height and that he was reasonably cute from his one picture. He had expressed interest in me, a good sign but, other than that, I was a little clueless. What the hell?
What the hell was right when a guy that seemed to be Chris drove up in the biggest truck I had ever seen pulling a trailer with another obnoxious vehicle behind it. What, what, what? I was still trying to figure out what was going on when Chris jumped about six feet to the ground from the cab of his monster truck. Sweet mother of god – please tell me that was not my date! He had on huge black boots, a silver ring on every finger, a belt buckle that I wouldn’t be able to lift and huge black, spiky gelled hair. It was like some kind of country Motley Crue nightmare. But he was waving! It was him!
What followed was perhaps the shortest and most cringe-inducing 45 minutes of my life. It turned out Chris lived in Canada, an, oh, different country, but he came down to Seattle every weekend to buy cars for his used car lot. There were more girls, eh?, in Seattle so he just chose to list that city as his hometown. I gulped my drink in a bit of a fugue state as Chris talked for half an hour about, of all things, the gloriousness that was Cuba which, maybe I didn’t know, you could fly directly to from that country north of the border. Was he serious??? What exactly was I supposed to find attractive about this international, cigar-smoking car salesman?
Even though it was only 5:00 p.m., I told Chris that I had to go since it was a work night and all. He said something about Sunday nights at the border being a nightmare but I was already halfway out the door. I did get an email three days later asking if I would interested in coming up to Vancouver to catch a hockey game with him but I, surprisingly, politely declined that tempting offer.
What could be worse than that weekend of dating hell? I figured the only place to go from that point was up, right? Foolish, foolish girl.