more tales from the train wreck that is my lovelife
August 25th, 2010 | Written by hurricanic
A month ago I unintentionally went out with a married man.
Yep.
That happened.
To make matters worse? I was the one who asked him out. It’s a long story, and a funny one (kind of), but when all is accounted for, I’m fairly certain it won’t be on the list of things Jesus asks me to explain one day.
Moving on.
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Last Wednesday, I met Jim. Jim entered my world thanks to a Free Communication Weekend from eHarmony. Questions came, and I in my “can’t live in the ‘what if’s” decided to respond. I was, from the beginning, not excited. He honestly just seemed boring in his profile. Why I decided to not listen to my ever spot-on inner voice remains a mystery to me, but I didn’t. I managed to blow him off for about a month, as every time he asked me to do something I was honestly out of town. After he continued to be persistent, though, I decided I should give it a Girl Scout try.
First of all, let me say after a month of texting, I’m fairly certain he used over a thousand question marks and an equal number of explanation marks. Y’all know how much I hate text grammar. “U” is spelled “you”, for example. So when I continued to get “r u excited 2 meet next week????????????????????” texts, imagine my annoyance. Here’s where I know I can be a bit “particular”…a bit “idealistic”. So I opted not to write this guy off simply due to his over zealous use of punctuation.
We met for coffee. Kept it casual. He had wanted to do dinner and a movie. I wanted to quick escape. You know…in case it was, in fact, as tragic as I expected it to be. This type of mindset going into a date is always key to success. I am bound to find love when I’m expecting the worse.
But can you blame me? I mean seriously, people. I have had more than my fair share of doozies.
This one might take the cake.
Jim, who did not appear to be a small man in his photographs, started the date by having a hard time getting out of his truck due to his mass. I am going to guess he weighs about 450 lbs. As a woman who has always struggled with my weight (though anyone who know me knows I work out regularly and eat much healthier than you would ever guess), I make a commitment to get to know everyone for who they are, believing chemistry is based on more than the physical. When he ordered (and I quote) a venti white chocolate mocha with extra white chocolate, toffee nut flavoring, and caramel sauce…and THEN a piece of raspberry swirl pound cake, a cheese danish, and a birthday cake donut, I wanted to rush him to a hospital thinking he might go into diabetic shock.
I told myself to keep a open mind.
We shared an hour outside, trying to connect in conversation, and though there were moments I thought there might be possibility, I heard that inner voice raise red flags here and there. Like when he said he dreamed of being back at his college weight of 315, speaking of it as it if would be ideal, and feeling like having LapBand surgery was his best means of getting there. Or when he talked about enjoying evenings watching movies and television and mentioned nothing about spending time with friends or social outings. Most importantly, however, when he pushed too much to talk about sex. I, being a rare breed of virgins in their 30s committed to sex being practiced only within a committed Christian marriage, have learned I have to shut people down when this line of questioning starts. If you’re out with someone who doesn’t hold similar values, they immediate look for loopholes. And unfortunately, there’s this sick, twisted need some men have to “conquer”. So I made it very clear sex was out of the question until I said “I do.” His response? “Is that Bill Clinton’s definition of sex, too?”
I changed the subject.
To be fair, there are key things on the table here with him. He’s college educated, successful, taller than me, attends a Southern Baptist church and talks about Jesus in a way that makes it sound like there’s personal connection there… But the longer I maneuver the dating world, the more I know I’m not just looking for someone to marry. I’m looking for “him” – the guy I can’t imagine living without – a soulmate, if you will. My parents tell me I can’t make that decision the first time I meet someone. I still beg to differ.
He asked me to go out for dinner next week. I said maybe. He said, “It’s a yes or no question, Kelly.” I said, “I’m a processor.” He said, “Let me earn your affection. If you’re riding the fence, let me persuade you.” I agreed, still, obviously trying to keep an open mind. He seemed so excited to wine and dine me. He was game on making me feel like he was going to work to make me feel special. When he went to hug me goodbye, though, and there was absolutely no spark of chemistry, I knew it was doomed.
It was further doomed when he called the next day and called me “babe”. WAY too presumptuous. WAY too premature. I wanted to correct him immediately and say, “I’m not your babe.” Here’s where I should’ve been honest and just canceled our plans. But I didn’t. I guess I felt a sense of obligation and commitment. And…I was trying to keep an open mind.
He called the next day, this time calling me “baby.” Just stop it.
But wait, friends…here’s where it gets awesome.
Saturday morning? I got this text…
O.
M.
G.
r u kidding????????????????
THREE DAYS AFTER A FIRST DATE??????????????????????????????????????????
A COFFEE DATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU HAD TO TALK ME INTO GOING OUT AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There are a thousand things I really want to say, but if I wrote them all out here, you wouldn’t ever want to buy my book. So for now, I’ll just tell you that I immediately called him and canceled my date Wednesday.
Excited to hear more…
for the record: i was fully clothed while reading this. just saying.
i’m not sure at which part i exclaimed my OHMYGARSH the loudest, but i did hollar it about three or four times.
if it’s any consolation, great writing on your part at the end. the way you brought the gratuitous grammar back into the frame was a class A move. couldn’t help but notice and take note of that.
holy, sonofabasket case! that is quite the tale, my friend. quite the tale. it’s stories like this (and the saga of my own, twisted dating life) that makes me think the reason some men are still single in their thirties and later is that they are irreparably broken. the field has been picked over, all the good ones taken, and the chaff sent back for burning.
blow torch, anyone?
I will never again be able to order something from starbucks with out laughing!
kelly. how does this happen?
Oooh, boy. I don’t know what was more entertaining, the post or your in-person retelling! I saw this today and thought of you…you should stock up, and then just hand the poor guy the card as you run out the door if something similar happens again: http://www.cafepress.com/someecards.456336284