A Short Date

I have not even started typing and I am already laughing.  When I was around 6 or 7 I had the grand notion that I was God’s favorite.  I mean I was everyone else’s favorite so why wouldn’t I make God’s #1 spot?  Sometimes I still think this is true.  However when you are someone’s favorite they sometimes give you a hard time to show you just how much they love you.  God must have been having a slow day because he decided to play a very fun joke on me.

I have spoken to a few people on this dating website and I finally decided to meet one of the guys.  He set up a date at a wine bar that I like so that was great.  The problem is that I forgot what he looked like from the photos.  After talking with about 20+ guys and trying to keep their online names, email addresses, and phone number separate let alone various conversations it got a bit complicated.  I showed up 5min late and he was not there.  Surprising but not too bad I took a seat at the bar next to a gay couple and sort of close to a good looking guy.  After 15min passed I decided I might as well order a glass of wine.  The gay couple told me all about the wine that they had selected and even let me try a sip.  Very nice.  I honestly think that I might have a magnet located somewhere in my body that attracts gay men to me.   That’s another story, but anyway I ended up ordering their wine and the guy sitting 2 seats away from me tells me I’m making a mistake and I need a “spicy red.”  After he says this I immediately like him.  We end up talking about things as if we were on our own first date.  Then it dawns on me oh my gosh what if this is my date?!

So I ask him if his name is Rocco.  He says "No" in his very Australian accent and I curse myself for thinking that someone named Rocco would be Australian.  We then get into why I am at a wine bar alone.  I tell him that I’m waiting for my date who at this point is now 30min late.  I start having flashbacks of getting stood up in high school.  It is a complete white out outside, maybe he got stuck somewhere.  Then he sends me a text “Hope you haven’t been waiting too long.  Be there in 5min.”  I decide that I am not going to be too judgmental and give this poor guy a break.  I keep chatting Simon up and we are getting along, I almost feel guilty about giving him my phone number but he explains to me that it’s necessary since I have been waiting for 40minutes at this point.  He has long finished his 1/2 bottle of wine but is hanging out to make sure that someone gives this guy a hard time.  Five minutes pass and the door opens.  Before I tell you who walked in I want to describe what my date listed in his profile.  He was 5’9 thin build, and had a head of hair that would get him into any Pantene pro-v commercial.  He also had thick rimmed glasses that made him look a bit like a hipster. 

The guy who walked in was 5’2 and had the build of an 8^th grader who probably couldn't reach the combination to the top locker.  I kept talking to Simon and the couple sitting on my right and then felt a tap on my shoulder.  “Hello there little lady….you must be Clara.”  I turned around with a huge smile on my face only to have it fade away.  Mister 5’2 was tapping me on the shoulder.  I wore ballet flats to the dinner and was still staring straight at his forehead.  This could not be happening.  Simon stands up stares at me completely aghast and then tries desperately to hide his snickering.  He then gives me the international hand gesture sign for "Call Me" before walking behind Rocco and towering over him telling him he should be on time to dates because women are impatient "especially that one" and he points at me.  Nice. 

Not only is my date short but he seems to look nothing like his photos.  Rocco my date also happens to be bald, and is accompanied by the breath of an 80yr old corpse.  I’m not very good at hiding facial expressions so he feels the need to say “Not what you were expecting, huh?”  I was completely in shock and felt absolutely angry that I had left my cozy apartment in a snow storm to meet up with a guy who frankly creeped me out.  

He then proceeded to tell me that he was glad I didn’t run out.  Apparently this happens to him often which rightfully so should happen since he is an outright trickster.  He tells me that he uses old photos and fakes his height because he doesn’t want girls to judge him beforehand.  As opposed to then doing it in person?  I say “So you would rather they ran away from you in person?!”  He takes this in stride and tells me that he hopes I will give him at least 20min before I judge him.  I’m really thinking it’s too late, but I'm tipsy and he was really funny when we spoke over the phone.  He actually has an interesting job and is pretty funny. 

It almost makes me forget he is 5’2 until he folds his legs Indian style in his bar stool chair and tells me that he was tired of his legs dangling from the tall bar stool.  After near chugging of a glass of wine he puts his hands on my shoulder and tells me that I am “smokin’ hot.”  Instead of fielding the compliment it sends a shiver down my spine and my shoulders tremble a little.  I can’t even think of putting my arm on him let alone letting him anywhere near my face.  Luckily he senses my discomfort and throws a couple of jokes out which make me laugh.  However I cannot get over Rocco sitting Indian Style and not being able to reach the first rung on the bar stool.   Next he proceeds to ask for my birth date because he is big into astrology and numerology.  When I tell him my birthday he tells me that he has to call his mother.  I’m baffled but I let him place the call.  The gay couple next to me is nudging me to make my exit telling me they won't judge me.  After he gets on the phone with my mom he proceeds to bash his mom and tell me she is a psycho and her birthday is 2 days after mine.  I am not at all sure how to take this.  He tells me “My mom is a crazy cat lady.  Your odds are pretty likely that you’ll be a cat lady.  Or at least crazy.” 

Yes if I keep going on horrible dates I might become a cat lady.  

I have no clue how to respond.  After a wine flight and a full glass of wine my normally speedy wit has hit a detour and is going through a construction zone.

“Oh really.  Hmmm I wonder how many people were born in the entire month of June that own cats.  I’m sure the probability is pretty high considering there are only 365 days out of the year.”    He does not sense my sarcasm and tells me that I’m good at math.  Now I know he is not a sane man.  I can’t tell at this point if he’s joking or if he really does think his mom is insane or if that is his defense mechanism move to try and make me feel uncomfortable.  

We start wrapping the date up but I am just wondering why he fakes his photos, his height and well just about everything.  I can't keep it in any longer and I say “why did you lie if you are actually funny?  There are also girls who will want to date you.”  He says that he has to lie because that’s the only way girls give him a chance.  That's so upsetting, but hello one of my most irritating friends found her soul mate why can't this smart and funny shorter guy find someone.  He then asks me what I think and I tell him that I find it really irritating that he lied and people probably have different expectations of him.  I also told him that I would not go on a second date.  He stares at me with puppy dog eyes and doesn’t say a word.  I hate empty silences so I’m thinking of what to say.  Right before I spill out that I’m sorry he says “Suit yourself.  I was even going to give you a ride home.”  I almost want to thank him for making me feel less awful about being honesty but I say “Well Thanks for thinking about it!  Goodnight.”  I immediately rush into the first cab that passes by and head straight home.  On the way home I start thinking.
 

Why are his friends not advising him?  Then I start wondering who his friends are?  He was at minimum 3inches taller than all of them in his photos?  And why would they let him go around telling lies to get girls to meet him places?  And if this happened to him frequently why wouldn’t he pick a cheaper place?  And more importantly if you're setting a false expectation then why wouldn't you be on time?  So weird. 

Lesson Learned:  If there is a hot guy at the bar give that man your number even if you are going on another date.  And more importantly...You may get in the front door but you’ll soon be thrown out when people found out how you got there.  Don’t lie.  Ever.  Period. 

Tiny Bottle of Joy

I went on a blind date and the person who set us up will get to remain anonymous although if you would like them to set you up with any other of their family members after this story let me know.  We will call this guy Arnold, he is related to my blind date coordinator, how I'm not quite sure as they don't seem to share any of the same genes.  This guy was a towering 6'6, bright green eyes, and dirty blond almost brown hair.  He looked like Michael Douglas' character on Wall street with his slicked back hair and he kind of has thin lips like him too.  He was also very well dressed and took me to Capital Grille, so he got an A++ for appearance and restaurant choice. 

I arrived 5min past 8pm and he was there waiting for me.  One more point for him.  I had no idea what he looked like and I forgot to ask him but apparently my friend sent him my photo so he walked right up to me and gave me a bone crushing bear hug.  I was not expecting that and glad it wasn't just a complete stranger running to greet me.  Maybe I'm too formal, I'm more of a handshake or a "hey!"  with a head tilt type of gal.  Anyway he did smell very good.  No Aqua Di Gio, 5 points for that.  OK so I have a confession to make, I sometimes forget to put deodorant on.  But thankfully I have non-smelly armpits, probably because the years of swimming in heavily chlorinated waters did something to my sweat glands.  Now that you know that.  After I smelled him I immediately became panicked that after my post run shower I might have neglected to apply that oh so effective clear gel.  Mental note to self: double check as soon as he's not looking.  

The hostess greeted us and asked if we would like to check our coats.  I personally love when they take-off and put on your jacket and when guys take the time to do that it just seems very gentlemanly.  And shows that they care about you being warm first or they are showing off, either way it's a good thing.  Arnold declined to have her take his jacket which seemed a bit off considering it wasn't like she was going to wear it around while he left it in her care. Who knows maybe it's an expensive jacket. She reminded him it was complimentary and he finally conceded.  Great time for me to do a pit check.  However as I was running my fingers through my hair and turning my head towards my arm at the same time I noticed him reach into his pocket and pull out a dark bottle.  He casually put it in his suit coat pocket and put his hand on the small of my back to guide me to our table.  Was that a flask? What else would he be carrying around in his pocket?  Tall people forget that they cannot be sneaky or coy because short people have direct eye contact with all their pockets.  Ok, I'm not that short but it felt like his hips started at my shoulders.  So now my mind has left the deo problem and is wondering if I have an alcoholic on my hands.  Is he going to take sips at the table?  I wonder if he will offer me some.  I hope we don't get kicked out, I still have not brought any of my family here.

We sit down and he orders a really great Malbec, my personal favorite at the moment.  More points!  I wonder what the point of him ordering this wine is if he has some scotch in his pocket.  I try to get my mind off the weird bottle.  We start sharing customary stories about our family, job (he is a consultant), and what we do on weekends.  Before I know it I have already accepted 2 invitations to events that he's planning.  I will not be here for the next two weekends but I cannot bring myself to tell him because I cannot say no to people who make plans.  I love plans!  You make 'em and I will re-arrange my schedule to be there.  Unfortunately not very many of my friends are big on plan making.  They are fly by the seat of your pants type of gals and I think they would rather I make the plans.

Well our 1st course gets here and I got the chopped salad and he got the wedge salad.  As our waitress walks away he starts rifling through his coat.  At this point I'm really curious as to what is going on because he's making quite the production out of it and looks like he's frantic.  Plus I was waiting on him to begin eating.  As he's searching all his pockets he finally finds what he's looking for and he produces a small bottle that looks like a clear travel shampoo bottle filled with brown liquid.  What the heck is in there?  It is way to thick to be scotch or bourbon.  What the hell is going on here?!
 

I'm obviously not very good at hiding my facial expressions because my raised eyebrows and open mouth caused him to confess "Oh um, this is just A-1."  He said it so matter of fact that I considered it odd that I didn't carry around my own condiments.  I mean I do have a purse.  So after I snapped out of the green eyed trance I said "So what are you going to do with that A-1."  As I asked the question it was answered by his actions.  He was pouring it on top of his salad!  Our waitress walked back to see how everything was going and I realized I had not yet touched my salad because I was staring, and now so was she. 

He had to explain a second time that it was A-1 and he "love[d] the stuff" she also did not seem phased by it and said "That's neat I have never tried it on salad."  Green eyes?  Or is this just not that weird?  Apparently I was staring a bit too hard because he then felt he had to justify how great A1 is.  He also gave me a list of items that it can be paired with, some of his favorites:  eggs, spaghetti, waffles, mac & cheese, tomatoes, fried chicken, grilled pineapple and lemons.

Our next course arrives along with all of our sides.  I'm wondering if he is really going to put A-1 on his perfectly cut dry aged sirloin (or maybe it was a porterhouse) either way it was cooked perfectly.  My fillet oscar looked delicious but I couldn't help but staring.  He did indeed defile his steak by pouring the remaining contents of his little brown bottle of joy all over the steak as well as his asparagus and Parmesan truffle fries.  I couldn't help but want to shout NO! NOT THE TRUFFLE FRIES!  And I did. I spoke up probably a bit too loud "Hold up!"   I scooped up some fries and dropped them on my plate as if I had just saved them.  "Don't douse them with A-1 yet!"  Apparently A1 is a very dear friend of his and he did not take kindly to my insulting of his friend.  I'm sure I would be best friends with someone I spent every meal with too.

After I scooped up as many fries as I could before he started to pour he said "Why are you so bothered by the A1?"

"I'm not, I just really wanted to taste the Parmesan and truffle flavors...and I ummmm already know what A1 tastes like."

"Well you seem to really hate A1.  I didn't douse it on everything," he responded.

I sat there staring at the empty 5oz bottle thinking Yes you did you reh-tard.  But I was busted...I do not have love for A-1.  Whats the point if you have a well cooked piece of meat in front of you?!  So I try to tell a white lie.  What I say and what my face is saying are not quite in sync.

"I don't hate it at all in fact I tried the A1 Whataburger and I used to put it on meat in the 7th and 8th grade," as this came out of my mouth I realized what it sounded like and I ended up mumbling the last portion of the sentence. 

"So...I have the taste buds of a middle schooler...very nice Miss Garza," he snipped.   

What I wanted to say and what I should have said were at opposing ends of my mouth pulling my tongue in different directions so I chose to bite my lip and concentrate on savoring my perfectly cooked fillet.  He looked a bit offended and pensive each time I glanced up.  And thus we spent the remainder of the entree in silence.  I don't know why I didn't break the silence, maybe I was just a bit weirded out that he got so testy about a condiment or maybe the overwhelming smell of A1 broke the green eyed spell.  

We were finished with our meal and our waitress was back asking us if we wanted dessert.  I know from first hand experience that the flourless chocolate cake is amazing but I was ready to go home.  Not a good sign.  He asks me what I want and I decline stating that I was full.  He then proceeds to order the chocolate cake.  I then start wondering...Will he put A-1 on the cake?  I decide to ask.  
"Are you going to put A-1 on dessert?"

Arnold:  "Are you kidding?"

Me:  "Well you did say waffles and pineapple and well I just was curious"

Arnold:  "At least you think you are funny."

We are stuck in silence again.  Silence to me is like being tortured, I hate empty pauses and I love to chat.

The dessert arrives.  And he did not answer my question so I am still genuinely curious.  He hands me the second fork and I watch as he glances at the bottle (which he has propped up against the sugar in between the salt and pepper so he could get every last drop out).  There is no more A1 left.

Me:  Well it looks like you are all out.  Unless of course you have a second bottle in the other coat pocket.  

In my head I am having a blast.  At least I think this is funny.  I am apparently grinning and luckily he thinks I have a nice smile because he says "If you didn't have such a contagious smile I probably would be really annoyed."  We end up laughing but I'm still very baffled by the whole A1 addiction.  

THE VERDICT & LESSON LEARNED

Although we could have fun together I don't think I could allow his closest friend to tag along at every meal.  I do want to eat at Moto sometime, and I'm sure they would kick us out for A-1 usage on molecular gastronomy's finest cuisine.  Lesson Learned: Just because he looks like a dream guy, doesn't make him a dream guy.

Spaz Out

Well one of the main reasons I wrote this blog is because of a certain someone who broke my heart.  I thought writing would be cathartic and help me sort out what I want in a partner.  Lately it has been great to go on dates and have a good time with other people.  It's kind of tricky though going on these dates and having to omit the last 3.5yrs of my life, or cautiously use the phrase "my friend" when talking about Chicago experiences or travels. 

I had not seen the guy in almost 6 months so I thought the odds of running into him or crossing paths would be very rare. My girlfriends have run into "my friend" a couple of times, others have spotted him as if they had spotted a celebrity in front of The Peninsula hotel which I might or might not have done when the Jolie-Pitt family was in town.  Either way I thought that in our vast population here in Chicago's loop there was the most minuscule chance I would ever run into him.  Those who are familiar with my luck know the deck was stacked against me.  In fact I ran into "my friend" just the other day on the bus. 

So it was Tuesday Night, which means $0.25 Wing Night with the Ladies!  Beth wanted to get their earlier so I had to be there by 6:30pm, which happens to be the time I usually leave the office.  I had left my phone at home which would prove to be a huge handicap later, so I thought I would leave early grab the phone and hop on the 22 bus.  I ran out of the office at 5:10 hoping to catch the 5:15 which sometimes comes at 5:14 or 5:17.  Gotta love the CTA.  I see the bus and the light is about to change and I decide to make the run for it, which is never a good idea with Chicago drivers.  I have been hit by a car twice since I moved here.  (I can just hear the WHAT?! from Texas as my parents read this.)  And since I was loaded down with my laptop bag and my purse this made the sprint a bit of a challenge.  I decided to take the chance.  In my graceful run across La Salle (same one from the Junk Punch story) I was hoping that I could make eye contact with the driver so he wouldn't start to drive away.  

I did such an amazing job of locking eyes that I missed the patch of ice on the curb and skidded right in front of the bus doors.  I managed to grab the door handle that elderly people use to help themselves step up and not fall to my knees.  After doing what probably looked like the Scooby shuffle I found solid ground and stopped sliding around.  I looked up with a huge smile to see the bus driver staring at me jaw dropped and completely aghast.  He said "You know I woulda waited for ya girl."  I hopped on the bus and tried to track down my CTA Card which was hiding in one of the two large bags.  I finally found my card after what felt like 20 minutes and then let out a sigh that sounded a bit like a low "whooo".  This bus was a long accordion bus and the first two rows of 10 or so seats are facing each other to allow more people to stand in the middle of the aisle.  Then the next segment of seats are set up a little higher and facing each other.  I'm assuming the engineer included a step up on those seats so that you don't get people's butts and crotches in your face. 

I start to look around and cannot find a seat on the bus.  One of the joys of being in Chicago is that men do NOT give up their seats for women.  I guess the price the women of Chicago had to pay for equality was chivalry.

Anyway...I walk passed the two rows of seats that are facing each other and stumble and sway towards the middle of the bus where the seats have a step up and as I do I start to feel really anxious.  I should mention that I look quite glamorous with a huge pimple on my left cheek, static hair that even a sheet of bounce couldn't tame, high-water pants and I'm wearing tacky snow boots.  I start doing a quick mental checklist to make sure I didn't leave anything undone at the office.  As I start to reassure myself and reach for my book I get the feeling someone is staring at me.  Not that I’m surprised I made quite the entrance onto the bus.  

I glanced behind me, nothing strange.  Then I looked towards the front of the bus where I had just wobbly passed by and there he sat.  I can’t really place the feeling that came over me.  It was like a combination of my heart being set on fire and extreme panic taking over my body.  I look down at my chest and I think I might be breaking out into hives.  This is a first.  As I try to act normal I realize that my hands are shaking like Jell-o jigglers.  My inner monologue kicks into high gear.  My inner monologue sounds like a Spanish accented woman who is angry and speaking so rapid you can only catch the gist of the conversation.


Do you think he saw you?
Yes he did definitely.

Act normal.  Act normal!

It’s no big deal you were going to see him eventually. 
Deep breaths!  You're going to pass out if you don't breath
Has that ever really happened to someone?  Wait I think it happened to that blond girl on America's Next Top Model.  No, I think she locked her knees.  Are my knees locked?

I can't believe she didn't win.  She was really pretty, and had nice skin.

Oh my gosh!!!!!!!! I have that huge pimple….hurry put your hair in your face.

I almost drop my book as I try to casually flip my hair and hold on to the pole for balance.  I lose my balance as the bus driver halts to a bus stop and just narrowly miss slamming into a guy standing a few feet behind me.

 

Seriously!! Why the hell don't you wear make-up! You are 27yrs old!
I decide that I will start wearing make up on weekdays and not just weekends.

Ok! Ok! I will buy concealer or maybe I should ask Sara, or Beth what I need to buy.

God I wish they were here.  Or I wish I had waited for Kyle, why am I so impatient?
What good would it be to have any of them here?  Sara and Beth would have visually assaulted him and Kyle probably would have...
What would Kyle have done?  He's not that aggressive.  Well maybe he is...Would he have punched him or said something?  
No doubtful. In all likelihood Kyle would have had to carry me off the bus.  Wow all three of them have 4 letter names.  What are the odds of that happening?
Ohhh good you're getting distracted.  Keep thinking about random things.  You're not even thinking about him being 5ft away from you.

Damn it!

Go back to pretending to read your book.


Then I start thinking that it was just one glance, the guy was looking down, and super fast it probably wasn't even him.  Ok I'm going to double check. 

What if he is looking up at you?
I could put the book over my face and just peek out over the top just so my eyes are out.
That's creepy.  Do NOT look.



I start unzipping my sleeping bag of a jacket. It feels like the guy with the dirty facial hair sitting in the seat I am standing in front of lit a bonfire on the step up. I unravel my scarf since it feels like it's choking me.  Double check to see if I really did break out in hives or if I'm just hot.  I even have boob sweat!   
This cannot be normal.

I hope I am not sweating more than Mr. Phlegm.  I look up flustered that I am sweating more than when I work out. And what do you know he is staring right back at me.
Oh. Shit.



He lifts his hand to acknowledge he saw me and nods ever so slightly.  He looks kind of pensive and sad.  That's odd.  My mind starts racing.  
WHAT DO I DO NOW?!  Sad? Mad? Happy?  Do SOMETHING for goodness sakes you'll start sweating if you don't!



My hand shoots up and stops mid-air, and a huge eager smile comes across my face and I shout way too loud "Hey you!  How are you?!"  
Oh my god...could you be anymore excited?  Put your hand down already.  You might as well have put a woohoo in there.  He probably thinks you're crazy or that you still like him.

His eyes go wide and he instantly looks confused.


During this awkward exchange the bus had taken on a few new passengers.  And a guy in a suit moves his briefcase close to me and says "Can you move down just a bit."  I respond "Gladly!" Wooooh! Saved by a stranger!  
I didn't move down just a bit, I moved to the very back of the bus.  My body instantly relaxes (sort of).  I was still a bit paranoid that he might come back and ask if I was insane or remind me that he did NOT want to be with me anymore.  Thankfully that did not happen.  I got off two stops early and couldn't help but look over at the seat he was sitting in only to see he was gone.  Maybe he got off early because he wanted to stop at the grocery store on Division or he thought I was crazy.  Who knows...What do you think?!