When it comes to dating in Cleveland, one week can make a big difference. It rarely does, but anything can happen, right?
I was at a dating low point last Saturday night. It was a dark, dark place in my less than fulfilling online dating saga.
First, my ex-boyfriend walked right past my car downtown while I was en route to meet a guy from Match.com. (THE ex-boyfriend. You know, the one ex boyfriend that pops up in your head whenever you hear a sappy Phil Collins break-up song. Thankfully, I don’t think he noticed me. I wish I didn’t notice him.
Reeling from my ex-boyfriend sighting, I set out to meet my Saturday night date. The moment I laid eyes on him, I wanted to run like hell out of the bar. Why I didn’t make a break for it, I’ll never know. The guy clearly had a knack for snapping deceptive photos. And he talked funny.
Not only did he look NOTHING like his photos, he was just so weird. He wouldn’t stop talking about the fact that he was ADHD. By being blessed with the inability to focus, this guy acted like he won the “I’m so awesome” jackpot. His pants didn’t fit. They were much too short – like horrifyingly too short.
You can blame the fact that you locked your keys in the car for the second time this week on ADHD. You can’t use it to justify that you are a socially awkward mess. Sorry buddy, it’s not ADHD, you are just really, really strange. Accept it.
Then he rambled on and on about weird history shit – I zoned out for the bulk of it, but he kept talking about some dude named Constantine and Christianity wars. (What the fuck??????) For a man who supposedly can’t focus, he could sure focus on some Christianity wars.
Oh, and apparently there was this former girlfriend who lied about him being the father of his child for a full year. Bitter? You better believe it. I heard about it for another 20 minutes or so before calling it a night.
After two glasses of wine and some water, I retreated back to my car and headed home. (Mind you, two glasses of wine is the equivalent of drinking two glasses of water for my alcohol-loving self).
Note: I’m not proud of the following passage you’re about to read. An ex-boyfriend sighting and subsequent nightmare date is a recipe for an epic “Why Me?” meltdown. Sometimes you just need one.
So, I’m making my way home down I-90 after this hell date and “Baker Street” by Gerry Rafferty comes on my iPod. You heard me right – “Baker Street” by Gerry Rafferty. The tune must have hit a chord (no pun intended.. ha) and I start sobbing. I’m talking heaving, awful, choking sobs. Endless sobbing. Once “Baker Street” finished, “I Can’t Tell You Why” by the Eagles started playing which only made it worse. (My reaction to these songs further stresses the gravity of my sad, sad dating life). By the time I arrived home, my face was bright pink and caked in a mixture of black mascara and snot. I wasn’t even drunk. I was still crying and I wasn’t entirely sure why. Other than the fact that I was angry at my shitty dating luck.
Bawling my eyes out to “Baker Street” after a bad Saturday night date AND ex boyfriend encounter was not a high point (salt meet wound). Don’t judge – we all have our “Why Me?” moments. Right? I do wish my bad dating meltdown occurred during a “cooler” song. Where is Bon Iver when you need him?
Flash forward to my recent Saturday night date
I’m on a second date with a man I met two nights before. Ever meet someone that you totally feel like you can be 100% yourself with right off the bat? Yeah, it was like that. I can totally say whatever and not feel like I’m freaking him out. Plus, he’s adorable, smart and ridiculously witty. I like this one. And I’m not forcing myself to like this one because he’s good on paper or convenient. I just do.
I know better than to jump the gun and get my hopes up. Still, I didn’t drive home crying to “Magnet and Steel” by Walter Egan or anything….. so I think I’m on the right path.