I watched one of my favorite movies the other night. It is, of course, a “Chicks Flick” and since MOTNSO was not here (“More Often Than Not Significant Other”) it was okay to not have the Military Channel on so he could watch yet another tank battle…and critique it the whole time.
It was Must Love Dogs starring Diane Lane and if you haven’t seen it, it’s the story of an attractive middle-aged woman whose husband leaves her and she finds herself starting anew. Her two sisters convince her she needs to be on dating sites (which when the movie was made several years ago were just beginning to come into vogue) and she has some really hilarious dates, including one with her own father who unbeknownst to her was on one of the same sites and lied about his age. (If you’ve never been on one of these sites, you have a “screen name” and you don’t give any other personal information, usually not even your name, until you are ready to speak on the phone and then the lady calls the man, blocking her number, to make sure he isn’t Ted Bundy. I could write a whole blog just on internet dating protocol.)
Well, this movie reminded me of some of my own dating dilemmas when I was newly single and had myself on more than one dating website. (I actually referred to myself as the “Internet Slut” because I was on quite a few at once. That didn’t mean I was dating a lot. Just that I was on a lot of sites. It’s really, really hard to be a slut when you don’t date. I think they call that “prostitution.”)
This week I will share with you some of my favorite dating stories, starting with what has practically become a legend at my college alma mater.
An acquaintance from my dorm had a huge crush on one of the hottest guys around. She was pretty, but not drop dead gorgeous, was smart and had a nice personality. (Yeah, I know, that’s the kiss of death…to have someone say “She has a nice personality.”) Well, lo and behold she finally gets to chat with him at a party and he asks her out. She was over the moon.
Everyone spent days helping her pick out an outfit, suggesting things they could talk about…all the things that girls do to help one another when you actually get to go out with the “Man of Your Dreams.”
Comes the day of the big date and her stomach is acting up. Everyone just attributes it to nerves and encourages her to just relax, it will all be fun, she will look great, etc.
The “Hunk” picks her up in his car, they are driving to dinner and she suddenly realizes that it’s not nerves…she has a stomach bug. They’ve barely been together five minutes. She feels bile rising in her throat and her gag mechanism is going into overdrive and she’s trying to conceal it. (How do you conceal a gag?) Hunk notices out of the corner of his eye that there is something wrong with his companion and just as he asked “Are you okay?” she opened up her purse, vomited into it, snapped it closed, looked at him, smiled and said, “Oh, yes. Just fine!”
I always wondered if he kissed her goodnight. I never asked.
Well, nothing that awful happened to me. I did relate the story to you about my first meeting with MOTNSO when I did a faceplant in the parking lot and showed up with two big black circles on the knees of my white pants. That was probably the worst on my part, but some of the guys I met were real doozies.
First of all, every single one of them except MOTNSO and one other lied about their height. I am about 5’3″ tall. When, in flats, I am looking down onto the (balding) head of a man who claims to be 5′ 10″ there is a problem. He is obviously severely vertically challenged or he has a magic measuring tape.
Then, there was something in my profile that attracted pilots to me. I am not sure what it was other than the fact that I said I liked to travel. I had dates with two pilots and turned down two more…after the dates with the first two. All four had a combined divorce count of 11.
The first one met me for lunch. He and his brother owned a small plane. He was a really nice man, we had a lovely chat about lots of things and at some point (we were probably talking about accidents we’d had) he informed me that he was legally blind from a bottle cap that exploded and hit him in the eye. That sort of sent up a red flag when I put that together with the fact that he could – and did – fly a plane. But what do I know about getting a pilot’s license? and maybe that happened after he’d passed his exams.
On to other topics and then he tells me that he is epileptic as well. It was about then that I decided this would probably be the only date. A blind, epileptic pilot? Really? Even I wasn’t that desperate! The epilepsy only bothered me because he was a pilot!
It got even better when he said he had gotten his pilot’s license because his brother, also an epileptic, had gotten his and he didn’t want him flying alone. Needless to say, had he invited me to take a short hop to go to Vegas for dinner…well, that was never happening.
The second pilot was a commercial pilot, retired, who spent a lot of time just flying around the country visiting friends and family. We met for a glass of wine, he was very nice (although also shorter than he said he was) but I could see that he really wasn’t my type. I excused myself early because I had the 7:30 a.m. flight back to New Jersey the next day… and I am still trying to figure out how this happened, I wound up driving him to the airport with me and another friend at 5:30 a.m. How do you tell someone who is staying practically around the corner from you that he can’t come with you when he is leaving at the same time and needs a ride? I couldn’t think that fast, even though I only had one glass of wine. Never saw him again. He did call a couple of times, but thank heavens for caller ID.
Anyway, luckily for me MOTNSO came into my life after several months of these ridiculous rendezvous…and he isn’t blind (although he does wear glasses), nor epileptic; he didn’t lie about his height or his hairline (he is also “follically challenged” as I like to say) and never mooches a ride to the airport. So, he’s perfect.