Thursday, April 29, 2010

Will he call???

I must have gotten brazen in my old age because I'm meeting people everywhere. Online sites, through friends, book stores, the park, the beach, bars, and as of yesterday, the supermarket.

There's an urban myth that you meet the best men in the produce section. Feign helplessness over choosing bananas or pretend not to know if a melon is ripe and poof, your dream dude will just show up! Right there amongst the fruits and vegetables. Just be careful, ladies. If a guy has a basket full of Hungry Man dinners in the frozen foods section, ask him out. He's in dire need of a home-cooked meal anyway. But if he's got a cart and a list, chances are his wife sent him out to to the food shopping while she takes the kids to soccer practice. He's off limits. Trust me.

Still, this was the most unconventional meeting to date. I was in my favorite organic grocery store, the cool kind with odd foods of every sort. It's where the staff wears Hawaiian print shirts and the entire place feels like a tropical island or a pirate ship. Who wouldn't want to shop there? I get up to the checkout counter where a pleasant older man is making polite conversation to the middle-aged lady ahead of me. He asks if she's making dinner tonight. She replies that she is doing the shopping, her husband is doing the cooking. He jokes that all the pretty girls are married. I chime in that not all of us are married, some of us know better!

We make small talk and he inquires what I do (while ringing up my Rice Pudding and free-range eggs). I tell him I'm a writer. He asks where my writing has been featured. I mention the blog, the radio show, and that a television producer is interested in making this project into a series when it's complete. Like a PG version of Sex & the City. He tells me his son is in television on a show I know you've all heard of. The kind where where he makes $100,000 a year (something I can only DREAM of.) I ask how old his son is. He replies 28. Me too!!! (Ok, I've been 29 for about a week, but it hasn't sunk in yet!!!) I ask if his son is single. He says yes. He asks where I live. I tell him the town and he says his family lives there too. This is too weird. Neither of us went to the public school in town, we attended separate private schools in the area. Turns out I was in theatre with his best friend circa 1998... the evidence is mounting. I must meet this mystery son of his.

So I do the only thing I can think of. With my brightest smile, I pull out a calling card and hand it to the man asking him to please have his son call me.

So who thinks he actually will???

Spidey Watch, Part 2

So I've heard from many of you that I was too harsh on Spidey Watch. That we had an otherwise pleasant date and the poor kid was nervous as hell from being in the mere presence of a worldly woman. That he most likely spent his entire week practicing what he'd say and when the time came, all those long rehearsed lines flew right out of his head, thus leading him to bring up Spidey Watch and the Darth Vader piggy bank.

In an effort to prove that I am not a cruel, heartless, black widow bitch, I decided you were right and gave him a chance at redemption. I think he felt like he'd just won a trip to DisneyLand, he was so excited when I called. I was equally excited when he suggested our second date take place 9 rows back from the first base line at the new Mets stadium. You want to take me to a major league baseball game I couldn't possibly afford on my own? Field level seating? Alright, I think I can survive this.

I'm a huge baseball fan. Grew up in a house surrounded by the sport. My dad, my brother, my grandfather, my uncles, my cousins... it's kind of a family obsession. On top of which 90% of us are born and bred Mets fans (sorry Mom.) It's not easy being a Met fan. "You gotta believe" for a reason. Yankees fans are a dime a dozen. Who doesn't like winning World Series and pennants year after year? It's easy loving a winning team. But holding out the hope that one day, it will be our turn. One day, we'll hit the big time. One day, we'll be victorious in pursuit of that coveted title. That's the spirit of the blue & orange.

This die-hard hopefulness is how I think of dating in the modern world. It's so simple to get discouraged when you see people coupling off left and right, hitting home runs when all you're looking for is a base hit. A little taste of their boastful glory. Yet here we are, single girls turning 29, 30, 35, 42...not knowing when it will be our turn to walk up the aisle. To be relationship champions.

But I digress.

This is my first second date since Train Guy / Phonophobic / Big Head (however you like to refer to the December dating scene.) Still, Spidey Watch does have some redeeming qualities, I remind myself and it won't be complete torture seeing him again. He's sweet, he's polite, (he thinks) he's funny, he's very generous and thoughtful. And while 4 hours seems like an excessive amount of time for a second date, if nothing else, we can talk sports the whole time and cheer for our favorite New York team. Hey, you wouldn't have turned down free field level seats either!!!

I meet him at the Home Run Apple in the plaza by the stadium. He turns up half an hour late and we miss part of the first inning, but it's ok. Dork that I am, I brought a book to read on the train, so no harm done. But standing in front of the iconic symbol, he springs on me that he's also invited a friend along tonight since he had some more spare tickets. Sure, no problem. I didn't think we were up to the meeting of the friends yet, but how bad can it be?

Bad. The friend is CUTE. Way cuter than Spidey Watch.

It gets worse when I somehow sit down between them for the whole game and can't seem to stop flirting in the wrong direction. Control yourself! Ugh, must go talk to someone who can smack some sense into me.

I excuse myself to get a hot pretzel and text my mother, ever the voice of reason.

Me: The friend is cuter.
Mom: Get his number AFTER the game.

Me: I didn't realize in the dark bar on date #1 that Spidey has gray hair!
Mom: At least he HAS hair.

Me: Our seats are on the first base line. They're kind of amazing.
Mom: Yes, but are they AWESOME???

Me: No, seriously, he's already said "awesome" 37 times and it's only the 4th inning. I might smack him soon.
Mom: You might wanna hold off if he has tickets behind home plate for next week!

Me: He can't stop talking about Japanese theatre and how George Lucas stole the idea for Star Wars from some epic film he saw at some artsy fartsy theatre.
Mom: What is it with you and Star Wars geeks???

The final score was Mets win 5-2. Awesome count = 85.

But the best part of the evening happened after the game was over and everyone had left the stadium. Standing there by that very same Home Run Apple was a man dressed head to toe as SpiderMan...playing the saxophone.

And yes, I made them take a picture together. I know you wouldn't believe me otherwise!!!

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Living situation

Who doesn't adore a man with a guitar? You have to be halfway heartless not to fall for a musician, especially a cute one with long, floppy hair and sexy jeans up on stage... The very thought makes me melt. I've got a track record of falling for any guy who could sing me to sleep. So when his profile pictures are all him playing at different venues, I practically drool on the screen. And then the weirdest thing happens. He messages me first!!!

Now, depending how much you want to believe what people say when they're hiding behind the safety of their computers, you can take this with a grain (or a whole kilo) of salt. But he tells me it's his birthday and he just got home from a night out with the guys. We start chatting and chatting and chatting... it lasts 3 hours!!! We only live a few towns apart, we're both divorced, we're the same age, love the same music, quote the same movies, enjoy the same restaurants and have so much in common that I must meet this one. Must.

On his official birthday, we get together for a casual lunch and it's as though we're old friends. The talking carries on with no pauses, no dead spaces, we make each other laugh...everything is going so well. He jokes that it feels like we've been going out forever instead of just meeting online last night. Says he hasn't been this comfortable with a woman in a long time and if it wouldn't be awkward, he'd invite me back to his place tonight.

A) Yes, that would be awkward and
B) I wouldn't go

Then he apologizes that even if we were to date for a while, I couldn't come over because his wife is still living there. I mean, his ex-wife. I mean, his wife. Wait, what just happened here?

So yeah, they're not actually, technically, legally divorced yet. And I guess that you could say that they aren't really even separated because they're still living together. In the same house. In the same room. So I ask if she was there last night when we were chatting. He says "Yes, but don't worry, she was already asleep by then."

So what you're telling me is that you're still together???

"No, no, we both know it's ending. I mean, it's over. We're just kinda roommates at this point."

Alright, I get that. I'm divorced too. But when we decided to split, he moved out. Stayed with friends for a few weeks before finding his own place, then I packed up his shit and he was gone. GONE. Haven't seem him since. You're telling me that in the past several months that you've been "split," neither one of you considered moving out? "Nah, not really, got nowhere to go. We're both comfortable where we are. We both really like our house."

Please tell me that I did the right thing by walking out and telling him to lose my number...


Women love shoes. Pocketbooks, purses, make-up, clothes...all good. But most women I know really, really love shoes. Except me.

See, I have very few shoes and they all fit into one of these categories: flip flops, boots, sneakers and dress up shoes. That's it. Maybe 1 or 2 of each kind and I'm good to go. If it wasn't for watching shows like Sex & the City or talking to my own girlfriends, I can guarantee you that I wouldn't have heard of a single shoe designer. In fact, I didn't even know you could be a shoe designer. I cannot tell the difference between Jimmy Choo and Manolo Blahnik and Christian Leboutin. Don't even ask me what styles are in this season. I cannot understand the fascination with "peep-toe" and haven't got a clue what a slingback is (some sort of drink???)

I'm telling you all of this because when a man with a shoe fetish falls for a girl, I'm the furthest thing away from the one he should choose. Yet that's what happened.

They should come with warning labels, these fetish-prone men. Like, right on the profile, it should say "26 y/o, single, caucasian, 5'7, loves feet & shoes." Put it right up front where we can see it clearly, like the calorie count at a fast food restaurant. This way, I know what I'm getting into from the start.

It started innocently enough. He texted me to ask what I was doing that day and I said "getting a pedicure." Bad idea. Unless you know for CERTAIN that you are not dating one of these men, do not, under any circumstances, mention feet. (Or anything else that could be perceived as freaky early on in a relationship.) He hoped I was having fun and why didn't I send a picture when my toes were all cute? Um, sure, ok, no problem. I did have sparkly flip flops on and looked particularly adorable, so why not, right?

And that's how Pandora's box got opened.

A few days later, I was going to a fancy luncheon and trying to get dressed. He texted me again to say "have fun at the party." I wrote back I'd have more fun if I could figure out which shoes would go with my dress. Honestly, I want to get married on the beach someday just to attend my own wedding barefoot! My happiness ratio is directly proportionate to how mandatory shoe-wearing is. But this brunch was a dress and heels occasion so he suggested I try on all my shoes, send him pictures and he'd help me decide which ones worked best. Fine, if someone else can make this decision for me, even better. I'm absolute crap at picking things out for myself. Which is why when this blog goes on tour eventually, I'm taking a stylist with me to pick out all my outfits. The best decision my parents ever made for me was to send me to a Catholic school complete with uniforms! The relief of never having to pick out my own outfit...sigh...I miss those days.

But I digress.

I try on a pair of black leather Mary Janes with a little silver buckle. A slip-on pair of black patent heels with a tiny bow in the front. A shiny red pair which kill my big toes. A soft suede pair of knee-high boots with tiny silver tassels hanging down. And finally, my sparkly sandals. I message him photos of each one and he can't get over how sexy they all are.

Sexy? Feet? Seriously?

I feel it necessary to tell you, dear reader, that I am not a normal girl shopper. I would rather buy books than shoes any day of the week. When I do have to shop for shoes, it's at Payless and I usually have a coupon. I have never spent more than $20 on any pair and can't begin to fathom how a person can justify blowing what I make in a week on any accessory that comes in contact with a Manhattan sidewalk. And I know that many of you are in fact, just that type of woman and I admire you for it. I wish I could bring myself to lust after these designer brands of footwear. It's just not in me. From the ripe old age of toddlerhood, my mother swore that if she ever felt the need to kill me, it would be in a shoe store. I seem to be missing the shoe gene.

So when this guy started sending messages of how beautiful / sexy / gorgeous my feet were in all those shoes, I realized he was more than I could handle. But for all you girls that want a man who'd love nothing more than to buy pretty things for your feet and give you foot massages, I'll send you his number! Just be sure you've had a pedicure recently...

Monday, April 26, 2010

Slow Talker

He might be the world's slowest talker. That's all I can think the whole time we're on the phone. I have a bright, bubbly, energetic personality and he's sooooo slow I literally want to start pulling my own hair out. The emails were fine. Not incredibly exciting, but fine. Yet this phone call feels like it's lasted an eternity and it's only been 20 minutes!!!!! I promised myself that I'd devote a half hour to our conversation, same as I would a regular date. But only 2/3 in and I want to scream and run away! He's ridiculously boring. No matter what I say, he barely responds. And when he does respond, it's off on some tangent that has nothing to do with my original statement. It got to the point (and please forgive me for this) that I put him on speaker and made my poor mother listen. About 30 seconds later, she was saying "hang up, end call, buh-bye." My mom has the patience of a saint and she wanted to shoot herself rather than listen to this moron start every single sentence with "Um," "I don't know," and "Crazy, right?"

Oh you're crazy alright.

I survived 29 minutes (my phone was counting) before telling him I had to go clean up the kitchen before bed. He asked if he could call me again tomorrow. I pretended I didn't hear it and said good night. The next day, I sent a simple email thanking him for being interested but I didn't feel we had chemistry over the phone and wishing him best of luck in the future.

He wrote back "Thank you for not leading me on. I dont really understand how women work or how you can decide on chemistry with a quick phone call. We live too far away anyways, your doing me a favor in the end."

I'm doing myself the favor. Trust me.

Air of Mystery

He's a pilot. Small, acrobatic planes. Stunts in the air. Very dangerous. We all love men with a daredevil side, right? Until we want to marry them, of course. Then it's time to settle down and stop doing stupid things like flying upside down. But while dating? Perfectly acceptable.

Besides, every girl I know loves a man in uniform. Pilots...have absurdly hot uniforms!

After chatting for what feels like months online, we finally get the chance to meet up and talk in person. Figuring small talk is a good way to start out, I ask how his weekend was. "Good, I got to spend time with my little girl."

And by little girl, do you mean a very small dog???

"No, that'd be weird! Who calls their dog a little girl?!?!"

Um, I don't know. Who waits several months to mention he's got a kid?

"My daughter. She's 18 months old. We spent Saturday together. Saw Elmo Live. I thought it was torture but she loved it. We got her all dressed up like Abbey Cadabby with the pigtails and magic wand and everything. Here, I have her picture."

So that's what we did for the next half an hour. Looked at pictures of his daughter. Her at the show. Her in the shopping cart at the grocery store. Her trying on big girl shoes. Her sleeping. Her with books. Her watching cartoons. His entire phone memory was full of pictures of his daughter. And why shouldn't it be? Proud father, I get that.

As for the situation is with her mother? Married for a year, her family didn't like him, she has custody but he's got every weekend with the kid, hence having to meet me on a weekday. Hmmm, this is sounding all too familiar.

See, I just broke up with someone who had a beautiful little girl. She & I got very close over the years I was dating her daddy. So perhaps I'm a bit wary of phrases like "her mother and I are still very close," "we're in the process of getting a divorce," and "she'll always be a part of my life." Let's face it, we all have ex'es in our past. I, myself, am a divorced woman. But I no longer see or speak to my former husband. He's an ancient part of my existence. When you're divorced with a kid, you HAVE to see / speak to that person every day or at least every week. I will never be #1 in his life. There's just no room.

On top of which, "in the process of getting divorced" is not the same as actually BEING divorced. There's an ongoing mud fight there through which innocent bystanders need not be dragged.

And might I point out that he failed to mention said child for quite some time leading up to our encounter? Which leads me to think: if he's hiding this, than what other secrets are there? What mysteries still have yet to unfold? In the interest of full disclosure, perhaps certain facts such as "I'm missing a gall bladder" can wait. But "I spawned a real, live person who resides with me 48 hours out of each week?!?!" That really oughtta be up there on Top 10 Things You Don't Forget to Mention Before a First Date.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

On the Radio

Hey Blogspot fans!

Tune in tonight from 6 - 8 pm on WIFI 1460 AM to hear 100 Cups of Coffee on the radio.

You can listen live here:

Or join the chat room here:
Soul Joel Productions:

Thanks sooooo much for your support.

~ Kimberly Spice

Monday, April 19, 2010

Star Wars

We have already discovered men with SpiderMan watches, Darth Vader piggy banks, secret Trekkie handshakes, penchants for comic book conventions, and SuperMan underoos. But this one takes the cake.

Let me start off by saying that I have never seen original Star Wars. I wanted to watch them in order, so I've seen 1, 2, and 3 but I kinda stopped there. So to me, Anakin is just some cute little blonde boy who misses his mommy. Poor kid was mangled in a tragic fire and I really hope he comes out ok. I don't have a clue who Luke and Leia are other than there was a brother / sister lovey dovey thing happening there, but that's pretty much the plot line of most families in Alabama, so I don't see what all the fuss is about. They could have easily called it "Rednecks in Space" and it woulda made sense.

But I digress.

I once had a Trekkie tell me he wasn't so hard core that he ordered lunch in Klingon. But these Star Wars geeks make Trek fans look like candidates for "Most Popular" kid in school. If you ever come across a die hard Star Wars fan, you'll know because they have a different lingo than the rest of us. For example, I made the mistake of referring to his room full of action figures as "toys." Apparently, they are not "toys," they are "collectibles." (Anyone else having 40-Year-Old-Virgin flashbacks??? I am.)

So he's got every original Star Wars "collectible" from the 70's in its original packaging and hanging on the walls in his room. He always asked for 2 of each, one to play with and one to save for the future. The guy pretty much never had to invest in the stock market because should he need liquid assets, he could simply sell off all of his "action figures" and buy a house, or at least a car.

This doesn't worry me nearly as much as what he confesses next. Please don't ask how the topic came up because I've been playing the conversation over and over in my head and I cannot figure it out. Yet somehow we got to talking about Star Wars fantasies and I was prepared for him to tell me about Princess Leia in the gold bikini. I saw that episode of "FRIENDS" so I was ready for that one. Oh no. This is sooooo much worse.

He tells me that his biggest dream (I'll say that again, his BIGGEST dream) is to find a girl who'll let him climax to the theme song from Star Wars.

Now, I don't know how familiar you are with the Imperial March. But it is not the sexiest song I've ever heard. Usher? Sure. John Mayer? No problem. But you want to have sex while thinking about wookies and pretending to be a Jedi?

Sorry, dude. I'm out.

Marcy, Marcy, Marcy

I don't mention names on this blog. You can check back through the past months and see for yourself that I haven't written a single name. But this one, I have to put in here. Because he said it 11 times. In one hour.

In one hour, we'd walked from Penn Station towards downtown and the water. He brought me to a riverside park where we watched the boats go up and down. Saw the sunset over the bridge. Talked about politics, the economy, intelligent people, modern technology. Sat on a bench with ice cream cones, people watching and making up stories about their lives (one of my favorite games). Yet somewhere intermingled with all that stimulating conversation he managed to drop his ex's name 11 times.

I now know everything there is to know about Marcy. Marcy worked on an early Obama campaign before he was even a well-known candidate for presidency. Marcy likes Barenaked Ladies and introduced him to their music. Marcy is 5'1-5'2 and wears a size 7 shoe. Marcy likes chocolate ice cream, but only soft serve. Marcy loves going to Great Adventure but hates going on the rides. And Marcy is now dating someone whom she recently brought to a party and introduced to all their friends.

Just when I couldn't take anymore, Marcy called.

I walked away while he was still on the phone. I'm not going to spend another hour playing second fiddle to Marcy or anyone else.


How big a role does religion play in the dating game? Are there rules anymore about Catholics being allowed to date Protestants? Jews marrying Christians? Orthodox dating the Reformed? I don't think so. My feeling is that as long as we can all respect each other's faith and somehow interweave our beliefs into one cohesive future, anything goes. So I, the Evangelical Lutheran girl, joined a Jewish dating website at the urging of my aunt. She claims that Jewish men make the best husbands and what girl wouldn't want that? A better husband...sign me up!

Now I have to tell you that I put right on my profile that I was not raised in the Jewish faith. It's out there, not even hidden in the fine print, easily accessible to anyone who views me on the site. And should they contact me, I make sure to say I was raised a Christian but have always been interested in and had the utmost respect for Judaism. I was "broadening my horizons" if you will, by expanding the age range, height range, and while I was at it, why not the religious perspectives? I understand that there are those who seek to share their faith with a partner and these men would clearly not be my target audience. Still, I'm trying to be more open minded and intentionally curious in my dating life. I'm looking for someone who feels the same.

Not having a clue what to expect, I'm pleasantly surprised by the first few emails I get from what look like promising leads. One man sticks out, a math teacher who lives in my area. Tall, decent looking, red hair, bright blue eyes. We chat a couple of times before agreeing to meet up at the bookstore cafe which is always non-threatening. Built in conversation pieces around every turn. You can discover each other's tastes for books, movies, and music all through natural, organic conversation inspired by the environment. Great!

As most of you know by now through reading these posts, I'm big into food. I love cooking, baking, eating at new restaurants, watching food tv shows ... you name it, it fascinates me. Obviously, this had come up between us. Still, it wasn't until we got to the cooking section of the book store and I noticed that he was looking at the Kosher cooking section and the alarm bells started ringing in my head.

"Do you keep kosher?" I asked him, out of one part curiosity, one part concern. "Yes," he said, a bit hesitantly. He launched into a full blown admission of his Jewish mother, her guilt on him for dating outside of his "chosen race," and how he keeps a kosher kitchen just to make her happy and appear to be the good son she wants him to be. "What that means is that you wouldn't be allowed to cook at my house. Or make anything at your house and bring it over. I'd have to do all the cooking. Trouble is, I'm not a very good cook. I mostly just heat up my mother's leftovers."

This is troubling on many levels. First of all, your main source of food is mommy's leftovers...and you're 34 years old. Secondly, I can't make you delicious fudge brownies? Or amazing Italian cookies? Or hot soup from scratch on a cool night? Well, there goes 80% of my seduction routine! If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, he just took away my map.

Sunday, April 18, 2010


He catches my attention by saying that he loves country music, one of my "6 things I can't live without" list. This starts the conversation rolling along and about a dozen emails later, we're texting. About 100 texts later, we're on the phone. And a few conversations later, we're meeting up for dinner.

I'm wondering if I should be worried that he chose a pizza place for dinner? And not a very good one. Chain pizza. In New York. Hmmmmmm....

Anywho, I arrive and see him standing in front of the restaurant and he's huge. I mean, huge. I can't stop myself from being polite and giving him a hug hello but lemme put it this way: I couldn't wrap BOTH arms around him and have them even come close to touching in the back. This is not good.

I tell myself that he's still a nice guy and worth getting through dinner with. He tells me I'm even more beautiful than my photos. I say he doesn't exactly look like his photos, when were they taken. He laughs and says "About 50 pounds ago."

Really? Why do people do this? Put up photos of yourself from this decade please!!!

Here's the clincher: He smiles at me and says this has happened before, women have reacted to his weight. One girl met him in person, took one look at him, said "Oh" and walked away! Needless to say they didn't even get to the dinner portion of the date. He's grateful I'm not as rude as she was and have given him a chance. I detect a sarcastic sense of pride though when he says "I'm just over 300 pounds now. But I wear it well, don't you think?"

No. I'm sorry. Unless you're 7 feet tall, there is no way to wear 300 pounds well. Ever.

Friday, April 16, 2010


Actual emails from Yemen guy:

I've got the whole day and night free Monday, so we've got plenty of options for a second date. If the weather's nice, we can take a ride to the beach. Or we can just go out to dinner and have some laughs, and maybe come back and watch some DVDs afterwards. Let me know what you're up for.

Thank you for a fun time last night but I don't think I'm interested in meeting again. Wishing you the best of luck.

Seriously, what's the problem? Am I much uglier in person than in my pictures? How'd you go from being so excited to meeting me, to not even being worth a second date? After 4 hours on the phone on Sunday (and a lot of laughs), you at least owe me some honesty........

Ok, honestly you're not what I'm looking for. I just didn't feel that the chemistry was there.

I can probably help you til you find someone you have great chemistry with...
I give *really* good'd never have to fake with me. I make a great FWB ;)

Alright, I know that beauty is only a light switch away. But seriously, I didn't wanna date you cause you're a troll. Not in 100 years could I possibly picture sleeping with you. Ew. Just ew.

Maybe Yemen wasn't far enough away???


Actual email from an online contact:

So I see on your profile that you're divorced. Does that mean you were married?

Um, yes, that's generally what divorced means.

Thursday, April 15, 2010


6 hours. That's how long we were on the phone over the weekend. 6 hours.

I'm just saying that so you'll know how interested I actually was in this guy. We spent time talking, getting to know each other. Making the other one laugh. He's a riot and why shouldn't he be? As a CPA / Stand up comedian, this man had me literally laughing out loud. (LOL for those of you who speak "text.")

We chatted about him being in stand up which I want to do and me being in improv which he wants to do. I told him some horror stories about first dates and why I never get my hopes up anymore. He told me that out of the 22 weddings he's attended, only 2 of those couples are still married. 19 ended in divorce. 1 ended in death. Not the natural or accidental kind either. He swears he's a black curse of death on any marriage. Which is why I'm guessing he's still single at 38.

I invite him to a sample improv class at my theatre Tuesday night. We'll meet at the bar for an hour before, then head up and have some fun. He tells me that this is the most unique first date ever and he's really looking forward to it. Me too. Until I see him.

You know that rule about how many people you've slept with? Men always double their number whereas women cut theirs in half. Well I have a new theory about online dating rules. Men add two inches to their height and take off at least 20 pounds. So if a guy tells you he's 5'7 and 180, he's 5'5 and 200. Trust me.

Long story short, he's not nearly as entertaining in person. He halfway freezes onstage at the theatre. He's awkward and nervous and not nearly as charming as he was on the phone. Even at the bar with $5 happy hour drinks, he is practically shaking over his Miller Light. (Miller Light??? Really???) I decide to be polite and walk him to the train station at the end of the evening, but he winds up kissing my cheek cause I turned my face mid hug sensing the attempt was coming.

The only thing we really had in common to laugh over was our mutual affection for the show "Friends" and our ability to quote every single episode. So when he called me the next day to ask for another date, I simply told him I was very sorry but got an emergency job transfer to Yemen. In case you need it, my new address is 15 Yemen Road, Yemen. I'll be there til he stops calling for more dates!!!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010


I am never on time. My schedule is perpetually 15 minutes behind anywhere I need to be. Everyone who knows and loves me has already figured out that no matter where they invite me, I will be 15 minutes late. So imagine my surprise when I show up to the bar at 6:59. A minute EARLY to my 7:00 cup!!!

I call his phone to see if he's there yet, but no answer. I perch myself on a stone bench outside and happily call back the girlfriend I was chatting to earlier, trying to pass the time. The whole conversation, I'm eyeing up a man who could be my date. He looks like a much cuter version of the man in the pictures. Taller than I imagined. Definitely better dressed. Nice smile. And I find myself hoping that it's him. So I hang up with my girlfriend and try his number one more time. The man I'm oogling over reaches into his pocket but does not take out a phone. That's when I see a shorter, more balding version of the cute guy coming up 31st pulling out his cell, then spotting me. Dammit, I coulda made a break for it!!!

Ah well, we're here now and at least he picked a nice place. A chocolate bar in midtown known for their martinis served with a Jacques Torres truffle on the side. Definitely promising. I don't know enough places in the city to have suggested anything nearly this nice. All the bars I know are fairly commercial. The maitre'd asks if we're having dinner or drinks. My date says "just drinks." We are seated at the bar. My date asks for a table. He is told "I'm sorry sir but all our tables are reserved for those eating dinner." I start to feel badly for him but insist that sitting at the bar is fine. It's nice ambiance. So we perch in our high backed bar chairs and look at the menu. I have to tell you, it's impressive. There are very few places I have been where I'd eat just about everything on the menu. This is one of them. And it all sounds amazing.

We both order chocolate martinis. He gets raspberry and I get Frangelico with almonds. Exquisite. And there besides each of them is a Jacques Torres truffle on its own little serving dish. I'm in heaven! There's a tiny platter of bar nuts and sesame sticks. Three kinds of bread with olive tapenade. We decide to split two appetizers. Wild mushroom pita with goat cheese and herbs (divine) and artichoke dip with pita chips and hummus (fantastic). The bartender asks if we'd like another round of drinks and as I'm enjoying the place so much, I tell him "I will if you will." I get the peppermint chocolate martini, he orders original and there comes another set of truffles!!!

I realize at this point that I am enjoying the atmosphere more than the conversation. Let me recap that portion for you:

He said the word "awesome" in the range of 30 - 40 times. And I only started counting after I noticed how often he used the word (every single sentence).

He mentioned finding this restaurant, amongst others, based on their close proximity to his favorite comic book stores. Plural.

He showed me his SpiderMan watch.

And he talked about his Darth Vader piggy bank which has a moving light saber that lights up and makes noise every time you put in a quarter. He enjoys it so much, he's started saving quarters just to put in it. He cracked Darth open to pay for tonight's date.

Lesson learned: even the dorkiest of boys are tolerable when you are drinking a delicious chocolate martini!!!


He's not ugly. He's not offensive. He's not stupid. He's not broke. He's just not cute, smart, funny or particularly sensitive. Doesn't have great relationships with friends or family. Is "diametrically opposed" to God whereas faith happens to be a part of my everyday existence. I don't think he's a bad person in any way, I just know within the first 20 minutes that he's not for me.

Standing in the parking lot after our "cup" he asks when I'd like to go out again. Now, I could lie to him and say "Call me, we'll figure something out." But I don't. I am honest and I thank him for the date but I'm not interested in seeing him again. He asks me why. I respond politely, "I'm just not getting butterflies."

"Butterflies? You're breaking up with me over fucking butterflies? Jesus, what does a guy have to do to turn you women on? What do you want from us? You think love is really that important? Like you're gonna fall head over heels for somebody on the first date? Like love even really exists? It's all a bunch of bull shit you know. There is no love just like there is no God. It's all just part of your fucking imagination."

And then, I shit you not, he says "So I guess this means I'm not getting a kiss on the lips?!?!"

Um. No. You're not.

Ready for the clincher???

He gets into his car, sits down, and starts to cry. Sobbing against the steering wheel. Hands over his face, keys not even in the ignition, cries out loud.

I'm parked right next to him. I can see he's in tears. But should I feel bad for a man who just screamed in my face in a parking lot? Should I call somebody? Get help? Dial the suicide hotline on his behalf? Or just drive away?

I leave, grateful to God that I escaped the torture of a second date, knowing full well that someday, a really great man will come along who will give me butterflies!!!


I started talking to this guy online and he seems normal, as they all do, to start out with. He observes that we both went to the same college. We meet for a walk in the park on a cloudless afternoon and he brings up the college again. Laughs and says "not a good time for going to __________ College" referring to an ALLEGED rape case which was later completely disproven and all charges dropped. This chick had issues, let's leave it at that. Still, I must've been looking at him funny, wondering why he was even mentioning this incident when he says, "You wanna know my theory?"

Ok, I'll bite, what's your theory...

"I think that 90% of women bring rape on themselves."

Shall I give you a moment to pick your jaw up off the floor? I know I needed to.

The diatribe continues about short skirts, consuming alcohol and even just going to a co-ed college. It goes on and on the whole time I'm walking back to my car where I silently get in and drive away. He looks at me, dead serious and mutters "What did I say???"


We meet at Eisenhower Park on a warm, sunny afternoon for a picnic and a round of mini golf. I brought good Italian deli meats, cheeses, bread, etc. I was all thoughtful with the basket and cups for soda and utensils...I put a lot of effort in is what I'm saying. I took care of food, he was in charge of entertainment, hence this was the perfect spot for both.

We get to the mini golf course which is $7 and he says "Oh, I only brought a 10. So I can pay for me and half of you."


Thursday, April 8, 2010


Ok, I don't usually do this but I have to say, this little gem was simply too good to pass up.

So there is some form of internet dating etiquette, right? An implied understanding that when you send someone a message online, it'll be short, sweet, personal and to the point. Maybe take into consideration some interest of yours or highlight a feature they noticed from your profile. Throw in a compliment or two. Ask an educated question. But it should not, under any circumstances be a form letter like this one. Happy Reading.

PS: Even if you skip all the sordid (read: boring) details of his ACTUAL email to me, please continue on to the bottom of the page to read my response. What? You're surprised I wrote back? OF COURSE I wrote back!!! Like I said, too good to pass up.

Hi There!

I am responding to your personal ad that you have posted. Your profile caught my attention and it would be great to know you better. A few words about myself. My name is Kevin, born and raised in  NY. My Nationality is Irish, German, Swedish and Russian. I’m a Microsoft Certified Systems Engineer and enjoy what I do for a living. I’m very family oriented and I’m looking for an interesting professional lady that’s also family oriented as well. I’m a very nice person and want a girl that’s interested in meeting a wonderful man to build a future with and have as her boyfriend and husband down the road. I’ve got a good attitude and personality plus a good heart as well. I’m not interested in meeting a person that’s in to playing games or who likes the bad guys or jerks in this world. You don’t have to be a Jerk or a bad guy to get a lady or man in this world. When I’m not working some of the things I love doing includes watching movies on a Saturday night with popcorn or ice cream depending on how I’m feeling. Im a big fan of eating out and exploring different restraunts and eating places in the city. I’m a very big sports fan and some of my Favorite sports teams are the New York Mets, New York Rangers, New York Jets and New York Knicks as well. I’ve grown up with music and some of my favor it kind of music is Hip Hop, House, Raygee, R & B, Trance, Rock and Roll, Pop Rock as well.

Getting back to interests I enjoy dancing and getting it down every now and then and growing up as a child never liked dancing until my sister got married and then started enjoying it. When it’s a nice day there nothing better than biking around the park or exploring different towns and places or taking pictures with my digital camera and enjoy going paddle boating or row boating. In 1994 I was in a bowling league and did very well and enjoy playing pool, bowling and also visiting museums as well. So tell me what do you enjoy doing on your spare time when you’re not working? Do you have any brothers or sisters or any siblings? I’ve got 1 sister and 4 cousins and a brother in law and a niece as well. What is your nationality? Sometimes it’s hard on telling what a person’s nationality actually is. What places are you interested in hanging out at or exploring if any that is? Are you an animal love? Do you have any pets or animals of any kind? What kind of a person are you looking to meet and do you have a certain image of that person you’re interested in? Are you catholic and go to church and believe in god? I believe in god and know everything happens for a single reason in this world. Well for me I’m looking for someone that’s interesting, sexy, attractive, tall lady to meet get to know as a person become friends and develop in to a great relationship and let things happen as there meant to be. I’m hopping your interested in knowing me more because any lady would love to meet a great person as myself.

Hope to hear from you soon,


Dear Kevin,

This was to date the most scripted, least personal email I think I've ever received. The barrage of questions comes across really flat and uninspired, like a watered down version of the Spanish inquisition (without the sexy accents.)

You want to know my nationality, my pets, my siblings, my hobbies, my education, my family, my work, my travels, what kind of partner I'm looking for and my beliefs in God??? I gave less information on every college and employment application I've ever written...combined.

Ask me all these things over a drink. Hell, ask me them over a lifetime! I now know more about you than I do about some of my closest friends. Not that I don't want to get to know everything about my partner - I do! I just don't want to know it all before the first date. 

Patience, dear man. Patience and time.

Also, spell check. Just saying.


Wednesday, April 7, 2010


Sigh... Alright, I know I said all that stuff about no pressure, no expectations, blah blah blah. But apparently I lied. Because tonight I broke the one cardinal rule of 100 Cups of Coffee dating:

Never get your hopes up.

I told you I had a crush on this guy. Doodle his name on my Trapper Keeper crush. Circle hearts around his initials crush. Practice my first name with his last name crush. Start picking out gifts for his birthday next month crush. And what happened? I got crushed.

Crush: One word. Two meanings.

Things started out alright. He's a performer and had a show on tonight. So I drove all the way to Staten Island to see him. Yes, that's right, I literally had to cross a bridge to hang out with this man. We're not talking about some doofball I met online here. We're talking about "friends" for a year and a half and I've been waiting around long enough. I wanted to see him. So I went. To Staten Freakin Island.

And if the toll on the Verrazano Bridge wasn't enough to scare me off, and Google maps getting me lost twice wasn't enough to scare me off, and the cover charge plus two drink minimum wasn't enough to scare me off, then nothing would. Right? Wrong.

The show was the show, not much to say. But afterwards, he drove home a very (and I do mean VERY) devoted fan who crossed half of Staten Island, by bus, on crutches, after being hit by a car to see his show. Obviously, I forgave this detour before our one-on-one time. The man got run over. I can't compete with that. And when dropping the poor dude off, my guy friend (still friends here) got out of the car, walked all the way around to get out the crutches before opening the passenger side door and helping the man up to his walkway. I was touched. Absolutely touched. I've always known he had a heart of gold but to see it in action...alright I'm getting mushy here, let's keep moving.

Long story short, we drove for what felt like ages to what was apparently the only diner on Staten Island open at midnight on a Wednesday. Order drinks and share appetizers. All fine. But when I tell you that the man did not look at me, actually look at me once the whole time we're talking, I would not be exaggerating. See, I made the mistake of putting my back to the tv. Where the Yankees / Red Sox game was on. You can see his predicament? Concentrate on the chick who travelled 37 miles to hang out with you OR watch Game 3 in the series. Somehow, I wasn't surprised I lost that match up.

Trying to make light of the situation, I teased him that I was just as much a baseball fan as any other New Yorker (if Staten Island can really be considered New York, or just an extension of New Jersey). I asked him if he thought A-Rod had a better ass than me? If Jeter is hotter even by guy standards? He didn't even take his eyes off the screen while saying, "Oh, I don't care about the game. I have ADD."



I have a straight up crush on a guy. I mean, doodle his name on my Trapper Keeper kind of crush. We met a year and a half ago and have been just friends ever since. Seriously, friends. That's it. Until today, I didn't even know he thought of me as anything more than that. But this whole time in the back of my head, I just felt like there was something special about him, something memorable, something different. He stood out to me in a way most men don't (no offense). So we've made plans to meet up this week but before agreeing, he told me in no uncertain terms that he's in no way ready to make any sort of commitment. He has time for himself, his career and his family. Am I ok with that?

First of all, I said I liked you, I didn't say I wanted to start picking out china patterns and baby names.

Second of all, YES of course I'm ok with it. That answer, clear as day, hit me like a ton of bricks because it's not something I've ever experienced before. The Old Me would have whined and complained about him not having enough time for me, not making me a priority, not putting me first in his life. But let's get something straight: I am putting me first in my own life so you don't have to.

This is a big change for me. Huge. Would I eventually like to be settled down, in a comfy, secure, loving relationship? Of course, and I know I deserve nothing less. Which is why I am not settling for anything less. If and when it happens, I'll be thrilled. But in the meantime...

I'm having a blast playing Bubble Spinner. And staying up all night reading chick lit and eating ice cream. Calling my friends to hang out cause I actually have free time. Napping in the middle of the afternoon simply because I feel like it. Hogging all the covers. Having full control over the remote. Walking barefoot in the garden, getting ready for the tomato plants. Baking whatever kinds of cookies I want. This is not to say I couldn't do all (most, some, a few) of these things in a relationship, it's just that I've never really been single. Not EVER. It's scary sometimes and it's exciting sometimes and it's fun sometimes and it's intimidating sometimes (especially in couple-y groups) but I'm surviving it. Revelation...

On top of which, I really want to see this dating thing through to the end. I mean, I can't exactly say to every man who asks if I'm seeing anyone else, "Yes, about 100 other guys." Yet I'm sure that if Mr. Right does pop up during this whole experiment, I'll know and it'll all work out. The point is to eventually be with someone amazing, but I've taken sooooo much pressure off myself by not expecting EVERY single guy I meet to be that amazing man I picture. Think about it this way:

When you go into a job interview, you wear your best suit, bring your polished resume, prepared to sell this great company on why you're the perfect candidate for the position. You answer all their questions thoroughly, thoughtfully, and with a smile. You shake the person's hand, look them in the eye, practicing all your skills and manners and lessons learned. You've practically hung your name plate outside the office door without even landing the job. You're 30 seconds away from printing up business cards but wait just a second. Stop and think. What if you had 99 other interviews lined up after this one? What if you weren't unemployed, desperate to take the first paycheck someone offered you? What if you were in charge, able to compare who has better benefits, more vacation days available, a bigger salary, a better view from the window? Wouldn't you be far more likely to BREATHE during these meetings, taking it easy, taking things slowly, taking a ton of pressure off your poor, tired shoulders?

This is what dating is like for me now. It's like having the weights I've been carrying around taken from me and suddenly I'm freer, lighter, able to move around easier. When I was Single, (which is not a contagious disease people, you're not gonna catch it for crying out loud!!!) I put all these expectations on men to be that perfect person I wanted them to be. Projected all my future plans, my entire life's happiness onto them, usually before the first date! Who could live up to that??? Now, I'm more focused on becoming a perfect me and not expecting anything from anyone else. Cause if this one doesn't work out, I have 99 more interviews set up and plenty of resumes to hand out!

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Thank you note

Just a conversation between a good old friend and I that I simply had to share. We were talking about how most everyone we try to date nowadays seems to be completely off their rockers. And he thanked me for writing this blog, reassuring him that men and women are equal in their insanity. For those of you who are still single (even at the ripe old age of 30) and feeling like I'm writing directly about your lives and experiences, please keep these notes coming. And for those of you who are happily (or not so happily) settled into your relationships, please feel free to adopt the smug position of superiority above those of us who are not yet coupled off. You might be reading these stories, grateful not to be in our shoes, but you know we have more fun than you 90% of the time!!!

HIM: I have to laugh at your blog. Not at you but at the fact that it is like reading my "date" stories through someone elses eyes. If there is one gift that God has given me it is the ability to choose the absolute wrong person who will no doubt be crazy, break my heart, and then stalk

I see you have had some of the same luck. I will agree that yes, there is a difference between faith and "fire and brimstone." Yes, only a jackass would not mention that they do not eat one single thing at a chinese/japanese restaurant. No, "I like your wide hips" is not the comment to use when first meeting a woman. :-)

Definately keep writing your blog. It makes me think that I am not as crazy as I

ME: I'm telling you, men are just as psycho as women when it comes to dating and break ups. I was listening to this radio show tonight (that my blog will hopefully be featured on in the very near future) and the guy who was hosting the show got a phone call from this "ex girlfriend" who accused him of all sorts of ridiculous things. Said he went to Wendy's one night and didn't offer to bring her anything back. Never called when she was sick (with a cold...for ONE day). Didn't take her to see The Lion King in NYC. Etc etc. Turns out, they'd been on TWO dates (read: hooked up mildly) and she went bananas. Certifiably nuts. And then was shocked when he stopped calling.

I was like, HELLO, YOU'RE CRAZY!!!

Anywho, men out there haven't got a clue what they're doing. I really miss when you could just pass a note to someone in the hallway saying "Do you like me? Check yes or no." And poof! You're going out. None of this drama, heartbreak, insanity. Maybe I'm being overly wistful here. But I really appreciate the comments about the blog. I have heard from sooooo many people that I'm writing about their lives, that they've had similar experiences. Which is why I know I have to keep writing. As much as it's torture trying to find 100 men who aren't complete and total creeps. I can only hope it'll be worth it!

Victoria's Secret

Due to the sad state of the economy and the even sadder state of my wallet, I have had to curb my shopping habits. Not that I'm a full blown shopaholic, mind you, and I certainly don't have expensive taste when it comes to anything but books. But we all need a few essentials now and then and today, I needed underwear. Again, nothing too fancy (Frederick's of Hollywood is for "that" side of things.) Just simple, plain, cotton bikinis in neutral colors. Why is this an issue? Because when I walk in, the girl up front greets me and says all the "plain" panties are in the way back. Where I suddenly spot an incredibly cute boy.


Do I pretend to be interested in the silky, satiny, lacy little things that barely cover my ass and itch to high heaven? Or do I stick with plan A and let appearances be damned? Well, ask me a month ago and I would've feigned adoration for the "sexy little numbers" with tiny heart patterns and rhinestones on them. But in my older and wiser years (29 soon, bleck!) I have thrown other people's opinions of me out the proverbial window. I strode up to the "Essentials" table with all the confidence in the world.

That's when he said, "Can I help you find anything?" Oh crap. Cute boy works here.

Shaking off my sudden self-awareness, I told him politely that I was post-break-up and looking for all new underwear, nothing sophisticated, in a range of colors, size extra large. Yes, I did want to hide under the table and die, just a little bit. But we've already established that I am no size 2, I am a healthy 12 and with these "wide hips" (see previous blog for reference) I needed an extra large. There was no getting around it. I figured if I was already going for cotton, I might as well be comfortable in them.

Do you know that boy didn't even flinch? He didn't make a face at my size (as being in that store, as so many others, can make even a normal sized girl feel fat). He just went about asking what colors I'd like, did I want another black one, did I know about the sale... And at this point I'm staring. Like legitimately staring at him cause I realize just how gorgeous he is. Floppy, jet black curls framing his sun-kissed face. Excellent body even under the head to toe black button down shirt and slacks he has to wear. Strong hands picking up underwear that will be covering my most private parts later... it's all too much to bear. I have to say something.

"So your girlfriend doesn't mind you working in Victoria's Secret? Helping other women pick out things like this?" He gives me this shy, slow sort of smile. "Nope. Don't have a girlfriend. But I'm 18 and I've seen my share of panties."

18????? Did I just become a Cougar???

I smile back, thank him, pay the cashier, and run like hell out of the mall, all the while thinking that's probably the best employee Victoria's Secret has ever hired.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Actual Letter

So I thought I'd post an actual letter from a guy who contacted me...just so y'all can see what exactly I'm up against!!!

"hey How are you doing ? Well I hope great I am a great nice an warm guy,well from what i am told anyway lol J/K I am a real down to earth guy that knows what he wants an loves to be the one that is making someone smile an feels great. I am Sean Bye the way! I am From Bridgeport well the line of trumbull an Bridgeport anyway i am 30 yrs old I was in the army for 6yrs an now that i am out an working i am looking for a great women to spend time with. I am A Gentleman if you are looking for that. (hint hint) lol Well If you want to chat somemore write back an lets talk. good to meet you."

Shit you not. Word for word. Now who wants to find me a REAL date???

Friday, April 2, 2010

Fire & Brimstone

Alright, I signed up for yet another new dating site, which puts me at 5 right now (you wanted to know where I'm meeting these guys). Well, this dude emailed me to say that he noticed on my profile that I was Christian and asked how serious I was about my faith.

I'm Lutheran. For those of you who don't know, Lutheran is like Catholic Light. All the faith, half the guilt. You've heard of Jewish guilt. You've heard of Catholic guilt. But you've never heard of Lutheran guilt. There are exceptions to this rule. Reasons for Lutheran guilt: not singing a 4 part harmony during all of our 12 hymns on a Sunday service. Not bringing a home made dish to yet another potluck dinner. Failing to sign your kids up for basketball or LYO. Making your mother give you dirty looks during the sermon for squirming in your seat or talking to the girls in the pew behind you. That's about it. Lutherans are all about love, mercy and social ministry. Communing with God, but even more so, with each other. It's a fun, family, friendly environment where all are welcome to worship and come for drinks afterwards.

Well this guy is a Pentecostal. I'm talking Book of Revelations type stuff. Fire and brimstone. Hell and damnation. Condemning our souls to an eternity of misery for being selfish sinners and repenting in the eyes of the Lord. Why am I giving you this religious education? Because I told him that while I believe everyone is free to practice whatever they choose, Pentecostal is the only kind of Christianity that scares the bejeezus out of me (pardon the pun). Here is his exact response:

Personally, I think there is nothing wrong with "hellfire and brimstone" preaching. The message is basic: admit you are a sinner, confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, ask Him to come into your heart to save you and forgive you of your sins and live your life striving to learn more about Him and have a relationship with Him or....hellfire and brimstone. We were all condemned to hell, but by His blood we are saved! I understand this type of preaching is fear-mongering and dramatic, but the choice is simple. If you believe in Him and earnestly accept Him as your Lord and Savior, He will work mightily in your life. To have His love, His grace and His peace is worth more than anything!!!!!!!

If you want to check-out a sermon from my church:

In answer to your question, no, I'm not even MEETING this one in person. I like my coffee with a little more sugar and a little less hellfire, thank you very much.

Spread Sheet

How thoughtful!!! I walk into Starbucks and he's already ordered my Venti Chai Tea Latte and rainbow cookie for me, without even having to ask. I'm so impressed by him remembering my standard Starbucks order, I feel the need to mention this. He blushes and says he wrote it down. He wrote down my go-to order? When? It came up during one of our "chats" and he simply took note of it. Ok, harmless enough. Considerate even. But then I start wondering what else he remembered. Aka, wrote down. He blushes and opens up the laptop he'd been typing on when I arrived. Tells me he kept track of all sorts of things I said. Flowers I love (sunflowers, daisies), food I love (anything with melted cheese), books I've read (mostly chick lit). He's even got a separate list on there titled "NO". Flowers I hate (red roses and carnations), food I hate (peppers of death), books I hate (Fahrenheit 451, Brave New World). He has a list called "Possible Date Ideas" and places to take me (beyond Starbucks of course) which includes whale watching and a casino. There are tabs, categories, lists... my entire life, the whole history of our chats and conversations in the form of a spread sheet!!!!! Please tell me, should I be flattered??? Or scared???

Thursday, April 1, 2010


He's a really good writer. The kind of guy that sends emails straight to your heart. He says things that make me think, make me feel laugh, make me happy. Make me want to meet him.

So meet we must, and he tells me to pick the place. It's a simple afternoon meeting, casual yet fun so I choose my favorite Japanese restaurant where every day until 4 pm is half price sushi. Now, I'm not the hard core sushi lover some of you are. I can't pull off eel, squid, octopus, or (heaven forbid) sea urchin. I'm way tamer. I like cooked things. Ok, yes, I know that defeats the point of sushi in general, but I'm sorry, so NOT interested in putting raw fish in my mouth. Ew. What is this? Survivor Island???

I digress.

We get to the restaurant with the typical lunch crowd. A few ladies. Some couples. Too many waiters being overly attentive to the level of your water glass. I order us both green tea with extra sugar. He pores over the menu, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. This place serves Chinese AND Japanese food, which online he said he loved, but now I fear the choices are overwhelming for him. Poor kid. I try to make conversation, make a few jokes, but he's seriously staring down the menu and visibly shaking. I ask if everything's ok, what would he like to eat. He tells me he's tired of ordering the same thing all the time, it's boring and he wants to change. Asks if I can please order for both of us. He'd like to try something new.

The adventurous type. I like that.

So I order a shrimp roll, a crab roll, a cucumber roll and some wontons. (Let's face it, everybody likes wontons!!!) He's witty and jovial until the food arrives. And there it is. The unmistakable look of sheer terror. I ask him *again* if everything is ok and did he want something else but he says no, he wants to try the food, he's just never eaten anything like it before. (This is modern America and he is 30 years old, but I'm trying not to judge.) So I pick up my chopsticks and he his fork (I know, I know) and we both choose to start with the cucumber roll. I down mine with a little soy sauce in one fell swoop but he tries to bite the poor little sushi piece in half and most of it ends up falling onto the plate. He chews...and he chews...and he chews... and he swallows. And by swallows, I mean chokes / gags / gulps the half a piece of food washed down by a big slurp of water.

I smile beatifically at him. He covers his mouth and runs to the bathroom.

I have time to finish pretty much all of the sushi (and some of the wontons) before he makes his way back from the men's room, pale and shaking. (What? Like you wouldn't have eaten your lunch? I was hungry and he wasn't gonna finish it!!!) Like a true gentleman, he offers to pay the check, which I politely refuse since he didn't eat anything and again *again* I ask if he's ok.

Turns out he has a "weak stomach" and never eats more than a plain salad, plain hamburger, plain chicken breast with nothing, and I mean nothing on it. Drinks water. That's it. So the tea and the fish and most of all the seaweed sent him over the edge and right into Pukesville. Would you not have thought he'd mention this when I picked the restaurant? Like, "Hey, by the way, I don't really eat much of anything, ever, so sticking with a simple cup of coffee woulda been a better way to go." Nope, I had no warning, no hint of disaster yet to come. But all I could think while eating all of that delicious food alone, waiting for him to finish wretching his guts up and come out of the bathroom, is that it would be really hard, nay impossible, to be with someone who has no real taste for food.

We walk outside and head towards the cars. He says he knows the date didn't go perfectly, but asks if he could kiss me anyway.

Um. No. Cause...Ew!!!