Date #4: 15 minute man

This may seem like a short amount of time for a date. The only reason it lasted as long as it did was because I was waiting for my food. So I could take it to go.

This was one of the guys who had been in an all-fire-hurry to go on a date with me. He emailed me once, and then we messaged each other for a while. His screen name was “Bob Crazy” and I assumed that “Bob” was his name. It was not. I assumed that “Crazy” did not actually describe him. It did. This name is what I eventually decided was most suitable for him. In my first message to “Crazy”, I asked him how he was, to which he replied: “horny, lol.”

A short note about “lol” in this context: It is the modern man’s version of, “I don’t know why she thinks I sexually harassed her; I was only kidding.” To this point in my virtual dating experience, I had not yet come upon this term very much, but as my experience grew, this acronym popped up more and more, mostly in places where a man would want you to know that he was kidding if you were offended, or, not, if what he said did not offend you and you were receptive to whatever come-on he was throwing out.

I ignored the horny comment and moved on. I asked him what he did, and he replied with some generic IT answer. I asked him where he worked, he said in town. I asked him for a picture, and he replied that he didn’t have one and that, “I look like a typical Asian guy,” I almost fell off my chair laughing at that one, “lol” or no. He then asked me what I do, what my hobbies are, etc….pretty standard questions, so I answered them, and his reply came back: “What about romance?” I replied that I had never considered romance a “hobby”, but I could see why he would think so, in light of my Craigslist ad.

After that, we set up a lunch on a day later that week. Sadly, he suggested Pizza Hut. I must reiterate: there are so many great places to eat in Portland, Oregon. Why oh why is it that so many settle for multinational corporate non-food? This issue is one that tends to get under my skin and gnaw at my sinew until I lose control of my emotions and my tongue, obviously. I countered by suggesting a local deli close to my work which was known for its gyros.

Unfortunately for “Crazy”, he did not abide by one of my rules in this experiment: weekends only. The title of this project is 20 Dates in 20 Weekends. If a man, through impatience or stupidity or sloth, chooses to meet with me on a week day instead of a weekend, he is automatically disqualified, not from the date itself, but from having it go anywhere. Why, you might ask? Well, I look at this process in much the way an HR professional looks at job applicants. If you can’t follow the directions to apply for the job, chances are you won’t follow instructions once in the position either. It’s simple math.

We met at the deli, and I immediately recognized that he was of East Indian descent, which struck me as odd, given the way he had described himself earlier. I will never understand how, when one is from a continent which contains so many different countries within it, he could describe himself as “typical looking”. I for one have never had the inclination to describe myself as a “typical looking American woman”.

We ordered our sandwiches and sat down. As I sat down across the table from “Crazy”, I judged that he was older than he had told me in his initial email. He said he was thirty, but frankly he looked mid forties, if not fifty. At this point it did not matter much as it was a Wednesday. I also noticed that his lips were chapped to the point that dry skin was literally hanging off of his bottom lip. He spoke very quietly and had the tendency to turn his head slightly while he was talking. Taken together, these facts pretty much eliminated the chance that I would understand everything he said, as I couldn’t really hear him, nor could I watch his lips move as they were too disgusting to look at.

He seemed rather intent on getting to the bottom of what I was looking for on Craigslist, and asked me with quiet diligence, why I wasn’t using Chat rooms, and why I hadn’t yet used meetup.com to meet people. When I said I was just doing it to date, he did not seem satisfied. I was a bit mystified, but I let it go, mostly because I wasn’t quite sure what he was saying anyway. Then he told me he was married with children and that his wife was out of town for a month. The whole conversation, his mannerisms, and his hushed tone suddenly made sense. At this point I had very little compassion for “Crazy”; he lied about his age, he wanted to set up a date during the week, he suggested Pizza Hut for lunch, and now this. It was more than I could forgive and I let him know by outing him.

There happened to be two young mothers with roughly fifteen children between them at the next tables, so I said very loudly in their general direction, “So you are married, and you want to date me?!?!?!” He looked around nervously. I glanced over at the ladies and they were looking at us. In the same tone, I asked him if his wife knew. He shook his head no. A very long and awkward pause followed. Initially I was very pleased with myself, but after about a minute and a half, I felt quite ready to go. I was starving and trying to decide whether or not I should wait for my lunch. I think he sensed my intent and said the most surprising and offensive thing of all: That I should let him know if I ever wanted to have sex with him. I could barely believe it. Thankfully, our food came; just in time for me to tell him I was uncomfortable and that I was going to leave. Before I could, he made the offer once again. It didn’t seem to bother him whether I was offended by this request or not; there was no trace of “lol”, no whisper of hesitation. I looked down at the Gyro in my hand and decided that if I didn’t leave soon, I would end up throwing it at him, so I headed for the door. No use wasting good food on someone who wouldn’t have appreciated it anyway.