On Friday I risked my neck walking on the ice to the train to meet this woman near a university in the Boston area. She was an English prof. It was at 4:30. I'm sure she worked at the nearby university. (It was very convenient for her.) I don't mind, I really don't. I always ask the woman to set the time and location of the date so that they feel safe.
When I met her she tells me she's off because her grandmother died. She said she almost called off the date because of her grandmother's death. Okay, I completely relate and understand. But what I cannot understand is why she tells me later, in the course of the convo that she is going ice skating later on. This just doesn't jive. If she didn't want to be on the date, why didn't she fucking call it off so I did not have to risk breaking my neck and piss away my whole evening? What little date there was, was typical what-do-you-do-for-work, do-you-have-any-siblings, do-you-rent-or-own, blah, blah nauseating bullshit. And it was in Starbucks. I fucking hate Starbucks! While her specialty was not American Literature, I was very unimpressed by her grasp of Melville.
After that date I needed to drink. It was the only way to get through the dread and loathing of the dates on Saturday and Sunday. This is the first time I've been driven to drink in years. I decided I will need to cut down to no more than one date a week or I will need to either drink on a regular basis or seek psychiatric treatment.
Saturday's date was wonderful. I'll call her J. For the first time in so long I felt like I was having a normal conversation with a normal human being. There was not one ounce of bullshit in our conversation. She asked me almost right away what I was looking for -- and I told her, "A life partner." She was so much like me. For starters, she also hated Starbucks. She said she missed the 70s. She truly understood the 70's and how mad the world has become since. I rarely date women my own age, but I felt a miracle had happened and I had found my hippie-youth soul-mate. And she had nice, prominent, femme cheekbones. I told her I liked her cheekbones. Big breasts are all well and good, but I'll take big cheekbones over big breasts any day of the week. I kept thinking about kissing her cheek, real, real slow, and then kissing her lips for approximately forever. J even broke the cardinal unwritten rule of dating by expressing an interest in seeing me again. She didn't have to do this. I was so going to contact her and did so the next day. Left a message on her cell, and what the fuhh ... never called me back. This drove me to drink again, but I'm over it now. I've regrouped, grit my teeth and prepared once again to face the horror of existential crisis. I'll send her an e-mail just to confirm that she got my voice-mail, but well, this doesn't look good...
Sunday's date was just, well, really weird. I'm pretty sure she double-booked me. It was originally tentatively set for what she said "afternoonish." But then was upgraded to my choice of four or four-thirty. I chose four. She didn't confirm until Saturday evening. Sort of hate that, but have seen way worse. She never volunteered a cell number. I fucking hate that because it gives you a sense that you're going to be stood up. She was 20 minutes late. She apologized several times, but never gave me an excuse. I guess I should respect her for not giving me a load of bullshit. She never took her coat off or even her scarf off. Her movements were jerky like a bird. She seemed horribly uncomfortable, almost as though she were shaking -- perhaps she was. She was terribly secretive, got the sense that she was involved in something illicit. All that I got out of her was that she was a "consultant." I was smart enough not to push it beyond that. We actually talked for hours, and went an hour into her super bowl, which I knew she wanted to watch as she was a sports nut. I think I had finally penetrated her defenses. She was actually a very good-looking woman, late 30's but looked much younger. If she didn't seem so damn skiddish and defensive I would have told her this. She was smart too and obviously very mysterious. I had the feeling that there was something substantial about her. She might have liked me. Who knows... I thought about contacting her again, but was awoken the next day with the horrible nightmare of contacting her again. (I am not making this up.) I think it really put me off that she gave me a slight pain in the ass to meet her and never gave me a cell phone number. I cannot deal with people who need absolute control.
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