It's been 2 weeks since I started this Match.com experience and one week since I went on my first Match date. I should've written about this sooner, but much more important things have been happening.
So this guy starts messaging me back and forth and I can't help but notice that I recognize him from somewhere. There's one picture I swear I've seen somewhere, and then it hits me that I've seen this picture on my friend Mel's Facebook. I text her immediately and find out that it is the guy from her Facebook and a co-worker...who she informs me is a total douchebag...great. I decide to give it a try anyways. It felt less nerve wracking considering I knew someone who knew him, so if he tried to kidnap me, someone knew where to find him.
So our date is set for a Thursday at 7 at Northshore Grille. I can probably hit Northshore with a bouncy ball from the Dollhouse, but I still show up a few minutes early. He texts me at 6:59 to tell me he'll be there in 10 minutes...minus one. I'm all about punctuality, folks. I go in to the bar area and see one of my friends from my group and for a second think, "Screw this. I'm going to sit here and have a beer with my friend and forget this." But people are looking forward to reading this so when I see the guy I decide to go with it. He orders a beer, I decide to do the same. It takes a good 15 minutes to just order, because he can't stop talking long enough to look at the menu, but at least the guy can hold a conversation.
Then, it gets interesting...he suggests ordering a shot. Wait! What?!? Before the entree?!? So I'm thinking he's either an alcoholic or this date is that bad. Then, I can't decide if he's trying to see if I'm "cool enough to hang" or "trashy enough to take shots at dinner." I make a last minute decision to take a shot. I can't shoot straight liquor without throwing it up on everyone around me, so I go for the mixed shot my friend has ordered all night the Saturday before...Captain on Crack...and survived the shot without puking. Thank God.
He continued to talk...alot. Then, we went next door and had a few beers and discussed shark week. The conversation was fine, but there was far too much drinking for this first date. If you immediately need alcohol to get through a date...not a good sign. Was he a douche? Well not ultimately, but he did make a few comments that let me know that after about date 5 he'd probably be one. Don't ever mention a woman's weight...even if it's another woman's weight, to a woman. You immediately look like a shallow pig.
Things turned around for me on the weekend though. I went with some friends to church Sunday at Calvary Chapel. It was my first time, and I was shocked and happy to see how many people there were my age. I still have a month or two left of this Match thing, but I see much more potential in finding someone at church than online. Whew.
Plus, the sermon at church was really what I needed. They discussed embracing the "season" of life that you're in, even if it's not the one you expected to be in. For me that "season" is singledom . Lately, a lot of my "group" has been finding guys and girls that make them happy and they're trying the relationship route. While I make fun of their mushy Facebook comments or their tendency to drop everything to hang out with their significant other, I'm super happy for them, because I know if I had someone that treats me like that, I'd be doing the same. My friends and I have all dated some real duds lately and I'm glad they've finally found men (and women) that appreciate them, want to spend time with them, and are overall just good for them.
Match is okay, but I'm pretty sure every Alabama fan with a fishing pole has sent me a message. To be honest, I haven't cared much about even trying to talk to anyone on there. It seems like too much effort. Terrible I know. I'll keep trying and if anyone else interesting comes along, I might give the date a shot, but for some reason I feel like something really good is lurking around the corner and it's not on the internet...
Guess we'll wait and see,
K
No comments:
Post a Comment