Date #1 was today.  I’d had a bad feeling about this guy from the beginning.  On a superficial level, his picture featured him in a collarless, button-down shirt in a non-colour which catalogues probably call ’oatmeal’ but I call ’taupe’ (I hate taupe — this may be an ongoing theme).  Now, I admit that I’m a bit of a fashion-snob but I’m generally good about only holding myself to high standards.  But really, if you’re going to have a profile on a dating site, doesn’t it make sense to lead with strength?  Either way, I was willing to overlook all of this because he seemed nice and offered me caffeine.  I can always be tempted with caffeine. 

Well, long story short (too late), when I got to the coffeeshop I knew him immediately.  This time, his shirt was an odd, sickly grey-green and still managed to make him look like the something out of Night of the Living Dead.  Over drinks (green tea for me, some coffee-concoction that seemed more likely to bring on a diabetic coma for him), he spent the whole time talking about his mother’s cancer and how he’d really like to take me to meet her so she’d think he had a girlfriend and would quit worrying about him.  Well, that and he mentioned that he’d spent a lot of time planning his wedding.  And how I was “everything [he'd] always wanted in a woman”. 

Admittedly, I haven’t done a lot of dating in my life.  I’ve always tended towards settling into relationships quickly, not because I was looking for anything so serious but because it was easy and more comfortable than playing the dating game.  Rick (who I am only not married to because I left Baltimore) and I went on exactly two dates before we were officially together and one of those was a walk around Johns Hopkins since he had to stay on campus all day.  After that, dates were take out and discussing politics during sex.  Sheb and I never really went on a date — we went immediately from friends to an exclusive sexual relationship.  So, I’m not a dating expert in any sense, but I’m pretty sure that this is not how dates are supposed to go. 

I’m just glad I never gave him my phone number. 

Next try, McFosters with B. on Monday night, unless going to the art gallery with J. works out this weekend.  If nothing works out, at least I’ll have some fabulous book fodder (the more I think about it, some of the dates I HAVE had are too funny not to write about).