THE DAILY BLONDE

Archive for the ‘Dating’ Category

Nice Ride, Cowboy!

In Dating, Guest Post on 05/18/2009 at 3:06 am

I have so many dating stories that I probably will not run out in the near future. However…my west coast friend Barb, who writes Nice Shoes…and More Life Observations, has shared a few of her dating stories with me so I thought I’d have her over to my blog to share one with my readers. She never fails to make me laugh and I feel so much better knowing I’m not the only one who has been on some odd-ball dates!

I have so many dating stories that I probably will not run out in the near future. However…my west coast friend Barb, who writes Nice Shoes…and More Life Observations, has shared a few of her dating stories with me so I thought I’d have her over to my blog to share one with my readers. She never fails to make me laugh and I feel so much better knowing I’m not the only one who has been on some odd-ball dates!
 
Thank you for the fresh cup of coffee, Daily Blonde.  Before you bring the raspberry scones that are freshly baked from your oven, sit down for a moment.  I have a dating story to tell you!  Your Kissing Frogs dating stories are so unbelievable!  I laugh and laugh and laugh, as I read your adventures.   This time, I’ve got a story for you!  Let me share with you the worst date that I have ever been on. 
 
It was several years ago….and one of the dates that led me to step away from online dating for a while! I connected with a man through match.com. His photo presented him as being a good looking man with a nice looking cowboy hat on (yes, I love me a cowboy).   His bio told me that he was widowed, had a daughter, and really loved his job. 
 
One Saturday morning I get a message from him.  He would like to take me to breakfast.   Sure, sounds like a great first day, easy, casual, low pressure.   I messaged him back to find out where we would be meeting. 
Plans were set and I arrived at the appointed restaurant on time. As I was walking towards the front door, I noticed a beat up old pick-up truck in the parking lot. Now I know a heavy use ranch truck when I see one.  There was no mistaking it.  I knew that this would be his vehicle.  Note to self:  working cowboy. 
 
My date greets me at the door.  The fine ‘gentleman’ was actually 15 – 20 years older than his picture…was 50 lbs heavier… and wore the same cowboy hat (now beaten into submission). I took a deep breathe as the hostess escorted us to our table. As we were seated, my instinct told me that I would let him do all the talking.  I was curious to know about him.  My brain was screaming out “Don’t share anything about yourself with him!”
It turned out that this was the perfect strategy. Through my fact finding mission I discovered…he had been married four times. He shook his head as he explained to me that he couldn’t understand why one of his wives had packed up and left him one day while he was at work…and moved to Tennessee without a single word to him. He still didn’t understand what happened, as he has never spoken with her again. And that job that his bio told that he loved…he was actually unemployed. I’m thinking, “Yep, I’d love that too!”  
He then shared with me that his last marriage ended in his wife’s death.  He was a widower. My gut was telling me that there was really no need to express sympathy.  He continued on to tell me how proud of his daughter he was.  She is a pre-teen and he was just so proud of her for not missing a single day of school from grief.  Hmm…really?  Is that a good thing?   
“When did your wife pass away”, I asked.   “About six weeks ago”, was the answer that seemed to float weightlessly through the air and across the table. settling deeply into my brain. 
Needless to say this was the fastest I had ever eaten a breakfast.  Somehow I choked out the statement that I needed to go, as I had some very important errands that needed attending to. I tried not to break out into a full run as I high tailed it to the closest exit….after letting him pay the tab, of course!
As I reached my car he shouts out to me “I’d love to get together with you again”. As I unlocked my car, I waved back over my shoulder, saying “Sure, sounds good”, and quickly hopped in my car slamming the door firmly shut.   As I pulled out of the parking lot I took a quick peek into my rear view mirror.  Just as I suspected, he hopped into the authentic ranch pickup truck.    
 
With the firm recognition that my picker was still massively broken, I abandoned online dating. What possesses me to step back into that arena now…..perhaps I need to reevaluate my motivation!  My brother tells me that this is all just PRACTICE.  I think it is just great story material for my blog!   
I’ll take those scones now, and a refill for my coffee.  Thanks!   I have so many dating stories that I probably will not run out in the near future. However…my west coast friend Barb, who writes Nice Shoes…and More Life Observations, has shared a few of her dating stories with me so I thought I’d have her over to my blog to share one with my readers. She never fails to make me laugh and I feel so much better knowing I’m not the only one who has been on some odd-ball dates!

car

Thank you for the fresh cup of coffee, Daily Blonde.  Before you bring the raspberry scones that are freshly baked from your oven, sit down for a moment.  I have a dating story to tell you!  Your Kissing Frogs dating stories are so unbelievable!  I laugh and laugh and laugh, as I read your adventures.   This time, I’ve got a story for you!  Let me share with you the worst date that I have ever been on. 

It was several years ago….and one of the dates that led me to step away from on-line dating for a while! I connected with a man through match.com. His photo presented him as being a good looking man with a nice looking cowboy hat on (yes, I love me a cowboy).   His bio told me that he was widowed, had a daughter, and really loved his job. 

One Saturday morning I get a message from him.  He would like to take me to breakfast.   Sure, sounds like a great first day, easy, casual, low pressure.   I messaged him back to find out where we would be meeting. 

Plans were set and I arrived at the appointed restaurant on time. As I was walking towards the front door, I noticed a beat up old pick-up truck in the parking lot. Now I know a heavy use ranch truck when I see one.  There was no mistaking it.  I knew that this would be his vehicle.  Note to self:  working cowboy. 

My date greets me at the door.  The fine ‘gentleman’ was actually 15 – 20 years older than his picture…was 50 lbs heavier… and wore the same cowboy hat (now beaten into submission). I took a deep breathe as the hostess escorted us to our table. As we were seated, my instinct told me that I would let him do all the talking.  I was curious to know about him.  My brain was screaming out “Don’t share anything about yourself with him!”

It turned out that this was the perfect strategy. Through my fact finding mission I discovered…he had been married four times. He shook his head as he explained to me that he couldn’t understand why one of his wives had packed up and left him one day while he was at work…and moved to Tennessee without a single word to him. He still didn’t understand what happened, as he has never spoken with her again. And that job that his bio told that he loved…he was actually unemployed. I’m thinking, “Yep, I’d love that too!”  

He then shared with me that his last marriage ended in his wife’s death.  He was a widower. My gut was telling me that there was really no need to express sympathy.  He continued on to tell me how proud of his daughter he was.  She is a pre-teen and he was just so proud of her for not missing a single day of school from grief.  Hmm…really?  Is that a good thing?   

“When did your wife pass away”, I asked.   “About six weeks ago”, was the answer that seemed to float weightlessly through the air and across the table. settling deeply into my brain. 

Needless to say this was the fastest I had ever eaten a breakfast.  Somehow I choked out the statement that I needed to go, as I had some very important errands that needed attending to. I tried not to break out into a full run as I high tailed it to the closest exit….after letting him pay the tab, of course!

As I reached my car he shouts out to me “I’d love to get together with you again”. As I unlocked my car, I waved back over my shoulder, saying “Sure, sounds good”, and quickly hopped in my car slamming the door firmly shut.   As I pulled out of the parking lot I took a quick peek into my rear view mirror.  Just as I suspected, he hopped into the authentic ranch pickup truck.    

With the firm recognition that my picker was still massively broken, I abandoned on-line dating. What possesses me to step back into that arena now…..perhaps I need to reevaluate my motivation!  My brother tells me that this is all just PRACTICE.  I think it is just great story material for my blog!   

I’ll take those scones now, and a refill for my coffee.  Thanks!

The One With The Huge Ears

In Dating on 04/25/2009 at 7:13 pm

By his pictures and description “Rob” looked to be a normal, conservative guy with appealing looks and a reasonable amount of intelligence. OK, I’m a bit shallow. I need the looks with the smarts. When I showed up for our “meeting” (do I have to call it a date??)I was expecting to have a drink and good conversation with a well dressed man. I walked into the bar area of the restaurant and he shouted at me.

“HEY! I’m over here! I’m your date!”

That was enough to make me spin and head out the door but the whole roomful of people smiled at me with that “Glad it’s you not me look”. I had to hold my head up high.

I looked at him and thought he must be mistaken. He had on a grey hooded sweatshirt that stood out like dirty laundry against the well groomed patrons. I don’t even want to get started talking about his ears. Obviously they were pinned back in his online photograph because they were a whole lot larger than I recalled. I was about to meet Dumbo.
DUMBO

I immediately downed a glass of wine at the bar after saying hello is my most pleasant “I’d rather be sleeping” voice. I’m not much of a drinker but I felt a good liver soaking coming on. My eyes were focused on the larger, flapping ears that brushed the hood of his ever so attractive sweatshirt. He motioned that we had a table waiting for dinner. Dinner? Ohhhhh…..dinner. Great.

I politely sat down and tried to think of a way to bail out. He was pleasant enough but immediately tore off half a loaf of bread and began eating with his mouth open. I’ve seen 3 year olds with better manners. The waitress came to take our order and I ordered a salad. A salad. This is the woman who will order a caveman cut of beef with four side dishes….but I ordered a salad. I think it sounded faster to eat than soup and I wanted to get out of the restaurant as soon as possible. It was Bewitched marathon night on TV and I found that to have more potential.

His order was much more extravagant than mine. He ordered two appetizers, a bottle of expensive wine, a salad and an entree. Of course, he asked for another loaf of bread. That was already gone and crumbs were sticking to his face.

When the food came, my salad was overshadowed by the buffet “Rob” had ordered for himself. By the time he was done with his appetizers, he was already ordering the second bottle of wine. As much as I wish I could have been numbed by a few glasses of wine, I needed my wits about me. I slowly sipped my second glass of wine and chased it with a few shots of water.

I finished my salad and watched this guy eat like he hadn’t had a speck of food in months. He talked while he ate, ate while he talked and talked some more. I have no idea what he was saying. I was more focused with my escape route. I excused myself to the bathroom so I could have a few moments away from his open mouth chewing. When I returned to the table he was enjoying dessert. A large piece of chocolate cake with a hot cup of something with more liquor in it.

I thought I had no shame when it came to food. This was truly a site to behold….but not to behold too long. When the check came to the table I felt a sense of relief. This evening was almost done. I could race to the comfort of my couch and try to forget my encounter with Dumbo the Pig.

“Well, I’m having a GREAT time”, he shouted at me with cake crumbs surrounding his lips. “What should we do next??”

Next?? A great time? How could I be so fortunate? I told him that I was a bit tired and probably should be going.

He paused and then slowly slid the check over to my side of the table and said, “Well, why don’t you get the check and I’ll get us a hotel room?” All said with a straight face.

I stood up and pulled a $20 bill out of my wallet. I placed it on top of the check and slid it back onto his side of the table.

“Here’s $20 for my salad and wine. I hope you enjoy your hotel room.” I said with a smirk. Oh, if I only had the energy to say a few more words….

I walked out so fast I probably left smoke behind me. I raced down the street, jumped in my car and drove home in time to catch the Bewitched marathon. Exactly where I should have been to begin with.

The Lap Dance

In Dating on 04/24/2009 at 3:13 pm

I have been out of the dating scene for awhile. By choice. However, I often think about getting back out there just so I have more material to write about. I’m a flake magnet. I seem to attract men who are worthy of stories. One day, I will find someone I won’t want to write about. That  means he’s a keeper.

When I look back, I think the only reason I seemed to meet oddballs through Internet dating was because it was always good for a story or conversation somewhere down the road. God forbid I meet a normal man — that would not be entertaining for anyone. It would be GREAT for me, though.48632medium

The lap dance guy. It has been years so I can’t even remember his name. That’s how memorable he was. Well, memorable enough to share this story anyway.

We talked on the phone once and he seemed pleasant enough. His picture looked “OK” but I was trying to lose my shallowness. Little did I know what I was in for. We decided to meet at the bar of a restaurant beacuase I told him that I don’t like “dinner dates” on the first meeting. He agreed. So far so good.

I showed up and looked for him at the crowded bar. It’s not like he had a really distinct face…sort of a non-descriptive Anglo-Saxon mutt. Unfortunately, with my really bright, short blonde hair that makes me resemble a light bulb, I am hard not to spot. He saw me and then….I saw him. Dark suit (I thought we were going casual?) and a very loud polka-dotted tie. I was in trouble already.

I was certain he had a few drinks already. He had a stupid grin on his face that  meant I’d be running off soon. I had no idea how difficult a caper that would be.

Mr. Polka-Dotted Tie had a glass of wine ready for me. I needed it. He was loud and brash, nothing like the conservative Engineer I talked to on his phone. Maybe he sent his evil twin to meet me. After my glass of wine, he told me he had a surprise. I was hoping he’d tell me he had to leave. Hell, no! He had a table waiting for us.

I didn’t know at that time the fine art of saying “I’VE GOT TO GO”. I unwillingly sat down at a quaint table for two and he immediately ordered up a bottle of wine. I wanted to stick a straw in it and suck it down.

“Before we start dinner, I’d like to ask you to do something.” he said in a very serious tone that scared the hell out of me. “Please, button up your blouse as far to the top as you can. I don’t want to be distracted when conversing.”

I nearly spit up my glass of wine. My blouse was unbuttoned two buttons and showed nothing more than a few freckles. This wasn’t a cleavage night…especially not for a guy with an ugly tie.

I didn’t comply to his button-up request and totally ignored him. He did not seem to notice because he was too busy guzzling wine. We ordered food that I wasn’t hungry for and I listened to him babble on about how great he was for forty-five long minutes. I didn’t process any of it and nodded my head when needed.

“So,” he said at the end of dinner. “LET’S GO DANCING!!!!”

Oh that sounded like exactly what I was thinking…dancing. With the idiot in a polka dotted tie. I’d rather eat chocolate covered ants and chase them down with gasoline.

He didn’t seem to notice he was not engaging me with his babble. He proceeded to tell me that he’d recently been to a “rocking” Christmas party and gave all the “ladies” a lap dance. If I were special enough tonite, he give me one, too!! THIS was an ugly vision. A fairly blah looking guy with love-handles giving me a lap dance. My life totally sucked at that moment.

I excused myself to the bathroom. I do my best thinking in the ladies room. It’s sort of like Superman in the phone booth. When I returned I tried to act excited about our plans for dancing….but I had an exit strategy all conjured up.

Polka-Dot Lap Dance guy was thrilled to hear there was a dance club nearby. We walked the three blocks to the club and entered into the world of pounding techno music, 25 year olds and the smell of cheap alcohol.

He immediately grabbed two stools and the bar and said “Lucky you! These stools are the perfect height for a lap dance! Jump up!”

Thank goodness I am a quick thinker. I politely excused myself to the ladies room and told him to order up the drinks. When I walked into the bathroom I focused on two twenty-something bimbos who were going to be my front girls.

“I’ll give you twenty dollars if you’ll please go occupy my annoying date so I can leave,” I said to them with no shame.

They snatched the twenty dollar bill out of my hand and asked where he was sitting. How could they miss him. His tie was exactly what the clowns wear in the circus.

Off they went to flirt with disaster. I made a beeline for the front door, making sure I walked beside a very tall man so I could get out un-noticed. I’m not sure I have ever run that fast before but I made it to my car in record time and sped off to the comforts of my home.

An hour later….an HOUR…..I guess he noticed I was gone. My phone rang and I let it go to voice mail….

“Hey! Did you go out for some fesh air? Things are getting started here Come back so we can party all night!”

I still wonder, years later, if he gave anyone a lap dance.