So I promised you some dates. One week in, and I got a lot of material!: four dates..was it four? three? thirty-three? It’s kind of a blur but let me see if I can unpack this.
I’ll start with the two dates at The Alley. The Alley is a dive bar where you can not be seen if you don’t want to be seen but where you KNOW you’re gonna post a selfie to Facebook because the place is just so cool and you’re um..there..because you’re..uh..cool?
Date one is a guy I call “Ask me no questions and I’ll talk forever about me and never ask you a question about you and people tell me I talk too much what do you think?” I think….that people…are right. But hey, I’m a good listener.
So Mr. Talk Too Much walked in and I just didn’t like the way he pronounced his words. I also didn’t like what he was saying but the lilt and tone and snickers kind of obscured the content. I knew within a nanosecond that I wasn’t interested. Not as a friend. Not as a back-up. Not if I were on a desert island. Just, NOT. EVER. NO!
I took one for the team and stayed for one drink as just as I was about to bolt he ordered another round…for HIMSELF. The place only takes cash which I was out of and he made a face at the thought of buying me a six buck house red, so I said never mind and he was okay with that. I know, EW..right?
Alley cat number two was a free spirit. His profile pic showed him in the jungle, hair flowing, with a bunch of bananas in his teeth. (Yes, I do need better filters but leave me a lone, it’s MY story)
IRL Banana dude was easily a decade older than his jungle boy profile pic. His teeth were a little brown. He reeked of weed. He intermittently looked at me with a crazy stare and said crazy shit that kind of made sense. He might have uttered a profound word or two.
How can I say this? The man was NICE. If I ever wanted to follow the Dead I’d shower him off and hit the road. And If I ever had an emergency, I just know he’d hold my hair back and dry my tears. But, no.
Moving on from The Alley….I met cheekysassybrit Friday night at a bar (seems to be a running theme. Liver, don’t fail me now! The biggest happy surprise was that meeting him – he’s a little guy like my ex. Maybe 5’2″. His girlfriend of nine years was six feet. Kind of a Dudley Moore thing. We didn’t click and there was no real chemistry – we were both exhausted (from dating other people?) and we agreed to meet again later. A few texts followed that night…and next day I received the kiss off: “I think I want kids after all”. Next….
Last night I met an ER Doc with a hundred irons in the fire. I wish I could tell you more but some of it may not be entirely legal yet. But legalization is on the horizon and he is a horticulturist who’s going to make a killing. With me? Of course you are!! He was an easy fit..so much in common…so many easy jokes…nice looking, only I tend to date skinnier guys. Only one of us gets to have a middle and that’s me. I don’t mean to be crass or judgy. I’m not. It’s more of a fit issue. Ebony and Ivory. Yin and Yang. But if I think I can handle Yin Yin then he has some real promise. If not, I made a new hilarious chubby friend (my favorite kind).
It’s Sunday, a day of rest. I never thought I’d say this but I’m so glad I don’t have another date tonight. Time for a little me time..
Datergurl, getting out of bed..for real this time and LMAO.