Dating. It’s a lot harder than one may think. I have great stats…or so I think. I’m educated and I’m low key, easy going and funny, and I’m pretty. People actually are shocked when I say I’m 46…but I’m Filipino and blessed with designer genes that hold my age well. My kids are young adults and I handle my shit…I don’t need a sponsor, a husband, or a father for my kids..I just want someone who’ll show up for me, go out and stay home, and just laugh with me. And I don’t have absolute qualifications for the guy…ok well I do require some height, like at least 5’9, meat on their bones, a dazzling smile, employed, and is clean and tidy…those few things are my absolutes. But when you’re 46, the pool of reasonable fish is rough…I’ve learned that a lot of guys my age group have small children, baby mama drama, and look like they’re several months pregnant. So what’s the other option? Younger guys who fit the bill of qualifications, right? Well yes of course…but then they want kids, or label me as a “cougar” or a MILF, really??? People are still using those terms? Case in point…last night’s date….
I met this guy at our Martini bar spot a couple of weeks ago. He was funny and easy going. He’s 36, educated and sounded like he handles his business, so when he asked me to dinner, I accepted the invitation…first, let me explain that I really don’t like going to dinner on a first date. I don’t want to be locked down for about an hour with someone who may be rude to the service staff or a bad tipper, or just plainly ill-mannered so I usually just like to meet for happy hour or coffee. But we had texted all week and talked on the phone a few times and he just seemed cool. So dinner was planned. And honestly, I was excited for a fun date night. He’s a nice black guy who’s educated, long term employed, and outgoing. I only mention his ethnicity because I want to make sure you know I am not selective of any particular race or ethnic background.
7:30. We agreed to meet at 7:30…and we both live about 20 minutes away from the meeting spot. I arrive and call him to see if he’s there yet, he says he’s about five minutes away because he forgot his wallet and had to go back. So I go in and get seated. Five minutes pass. Screw it, I ordered a beer. Minutes pass, and I’m almost done with the beer. He’s almost twenty minutes late. I’m almost put off, but I’m good. He finally strolls in and I stand up to give him a hug. I’m 5’0. I was wearing heeled wedges…and I was practically eye to eye with him. Fuck. Late and short. Not good. Then the hug. I’m a hugger and I give meaningful hugs. I thought I was going to give him a spinal adjustment with my hug. So skinny. This isn’t heading towards a good path. Late. Short. Skinny. Damnit.
He orders dinner for both of us because I’ve never done this Sukiyaki. My definition would be something like Korean BBQ meets Pho. So food was great, then I looked at him to say something…his eyes were glassy, red, and lowered. This fucker was high on weed. Seriously? I asked. He said yes. Wow. Late. Short. Skinny…and stoned. All I kept thinking was …fuck, I’m having dinner with stoned Chris Rock and I want to leave. Clearly there was no spark or evidence of chemistry…on my part. For him, he kept touching my knee and my leg, and sat with his arm around me. I ordered another beer. This isn’t going well. Then he said it. He said he couldn’t believe I’m 46…and identified me as a cougar because he’s only 36…then he went there…called me a MILF. Then he kept saying he wanted to see me sing at karaoke. I insisted (over and over) that I do not sing. But he kept at it. Here, I think he was stereotyping me…Filipino and Karaoke. Yep, stereotyping. I downed the beer and ordered another, pulled my phone out and texted my best friend demanding she and her boyfriend meet us a bar…after all, he did suggest that.
Scene 2: the Martini bar. Local ladies get one free Martini so I ordered my free one and he ordered his drink. We finished. He ordered himself a beer and asked me if I liked Stella. Yes of course, who doesn’t like an ice cold Stella??? Oh he didn’t order me one. Nor did he ask if I wanted another drink. You’re probably wondering if the conversation was at least as good as it was on our phone calls. Nope. We barely talked. Sports and karaoke were the hot topics. I said I loved hockey because it’s so fast and the fights make me laugh. He took that as I have violent streak in me. So he kept saying, “We need to fix your love for violence” and “I want you to sing karaoke”. I’m now 4 more drinks in me and thank goodness my best friend and her guy showed up. I was done, I wanted to go home. But I’m a sport and suggested to dance. Bad suggestion. On the dance floor, about two minutes into the song, he slowly turn me around so he can grind me from behind. Ok that’s it…I’m done with this night….
I thought I handled this well. Let’s go over the night again…Late. Short. Skinny. High. Boring conversation. Cougar. MILF. Stereotyping. Grinding on the dance floor…yeah Date #1 was not happening…for a nice guy he managed to do everything a girl doesn’t want on a first date. Oh did I mention, he kept touching the small of my back and kept putting his arm around me and touching my legs?????? Even when I would adjust my position to avoid it…he still did it.
This was my first date in about a year. FML. Fuck My Life. It can’t be this rough. This is just one date. I lost a Friday night of reading a book, watching a movie, and going to bed early. I don’t think I’ll give up though…I’ll try again. Date #1/Stoned Chris Rock = epic fail. Next…..