Look, I'm not doing this for you, but for my own dark and twisted reasons. Oh, and because everyone else is doing it.


October 05, 2004

thank god we were fully clothed (but i still feel dirty)

My recent decision to keep things "high school" with the most recent candidate (we've been out four times now) has proven to be exceptionally wise.

So, let's describe the candidate: late 30's, bright, all around nice guy. Not bad looking. Lots of personality. Says he's two inches taller than he really is. Gentleman readers - when you are 5'6" and your date is also 5'6", the gig is up. Why do guys lie about something so easily verifiable? His apartment is still rocking the college student look - the sofa has been ravaged by his cat. He has a sort of doofy walk. He has a really nice voice. He has a thing for women in heeled boots. He is serious tightwad. He is a rather clueless sort of bachelor. Some of these things I can deal with.

I cannot deal with excessive unapologetic gas.

So, he invites me over for dinner - and he has gone on and on about he he can cook well. Oh lordy. So, I bring a loaf of bread and some wine. The best part of the meal? The bread and the wine. First course consists of a bowl of Progresso's minestrone soup. The main course? Penne pasta served with Ragu's meat sauce. He did not appear to have added any spices to the sauce, but did add some vegetable crumbles and fresh broccoli and a little parmesan. I'm thinking, "Poor guy! He has no clue!" At this point, I'm thinking that it's sad, but not a complete turn-off.

Oh wait. Did I mention that he doesn't have any wine glasses? The previous time I had visited him we drank wine out of coffee mugs. So, I picked up a couple wine glasses before I went over and left them there. How cheap do you have to be to not even have a couple juice glasses to serve wine in to your guests?

Anyway, after dinner we take our wine glasses and head over to the shredded couch to chat. I'm focusing on how nice his voice is. And I don't notice the doofy walk when he's seated. Good stuff. Conversation flows well and he leans in for a kiss. The kisses are nice and then, all of a sudden, bbbbrrraaapppppp! He toots. Big time.

The embarrassing moment passes (hee hee) quickly. I recover. He recovers. He leans in again. Kisses me a little longer. And then, BBBBBBBrrrrrrraaaappppp!!!! BBBBBRRRRAaaaaappppp! I cover my face. "Dude, that's a total mood killer," I say. "Eat Tums for candy or something. But when you need to do that, go into another room."

He seems a bit embarrassed. Makes some sort of crack about how that's just something about him that I'd have to deal with. That his cooking does it to him. And then he lights a match.

"So, I gotta go."

He walks me to my car, and he's nervous. I let him kiss me goodnight (I was still in shock).

As I drive home I realize that I need to take a vacation from dating. Go on hiatus. Take a sabbatical.

At least for the next couple weeks.

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