Indiana Jones has just tossed the date covered with poison up in the air to catch in his mouth. Faithful Sallah notices a pet monkey dead on the floor after having had a nibble from the dates. He squashes the fruit in the nick of time and says “bad dates”
In no particular order:
Fix-up: Friends have a friend with a ticket to a play do I want to go out with him. Sure. We go to the play, barely speak, walk to Penn Station and while we are waiting for our trains he turns to me and says that the date was so-so and he didn’t like me that much so could I give him the money for the ticket. I would love to say that I told him to f**k off or had a great comeback but I was in my early twenties and so immature and insecure I gave the a**hole the money.
Dating service: Always expensive, always full of sh*t they claim to match you but the next available breathing body becomes your date. I meet a guy for lunch. He interrogates me and towards the end of the meal he says he has a girlfriend but he wanted to check me out maybe I was better. He paid.
Another service: It’s Just Lunch–the brainstorm here was they made matches and made lunch reservations and you met your date in a stress free situation. Since it was “just lunch” my first foray with this one I did not eat, why would I? It’s just lunch. I arrive meet the man, we walk to the hostess and he says to her we won’t be eating we will just sit at the bar. I am starving, I don’t order food I just sit there. Another interrogation. He was divorced and refused to tell me anything about himself. I asked him where he worked and he said it didn’t matter.
Being put at the singles table: every family wedding, bar mitzvah etc: I was always put at the singles table and I just wanted to sit with my family. Don’t help me I didn’t ask for it. I am now in my twenties and this has happened for the umpteenth time and the single table is actually four couples and one miserable guy who does not speak to anyone. I finally ask him to dance. He says no and does not look at me again. I pulled a chair over to my family’s table.
Jdate, match.com: fake pictures, no pictures, lies, coffee dates, drink dates, when I was in my thirties no one seemed to want to commit to dinner. I went home with one guy after a decent meeting and while I was there he was on his computer looking at other matches. I did not sleep with him.
Speed dating: Feels like being the last one picked at gym when you are a kid but no one picks you at all, humiliating.
Boyfriend #1: Fun year I did not love him. When he dumped me he said he was messed up and I was too good for him and I deserved better. Blah blah.
Boyfriend #2: Fun year I did not love him. His exit line was he had to decide to marry me or break up with me. He was messed up and I was too good for him and I deserved better. Blah blah. He walked out. I phone-stalked him for awhile. He never responded.
Fallow period: So many dates I can’t count. I was play dating, I was not present I would hope something would happen but it was like it had nothing to do with me. I was floating above my body watching a scene hoping it would be like the movies or TV.
Eharmony: (during the fallow period) At the time I liked this site because you communicated for awhile and had some sense of the person. Anyhoo the problem was that you could pick an age range but they forced you or at least matched you with people five years younger than you. You would get a ping you had a match and the matchee could close you out, block you, immediately.
I was 38 and this happened without fail with every younger match and some older ones. Apparently I was severely over the hill. The young ones wanted young ones, the old ones wanted young ones. A few squeaked through then closed me out. It was so much fun.
Eharmony#2: Sam; Four years younger than me. Kids maybe-just like me. One sister very close-just like me. Very small family but would enjoy experiencing extended family. We get to the end game; real email, real phone number. He calls me, I don’t pick up I want to hear his voice and I am chicken.
We email flirt. I miss email, at the time it was the equivalent to writing love letters. This was way back in 2005 eons ago. I call him back and he has made dinner plans. Dinner? Plans? Food? Has the world tilted on its axis? We meet and argue about Harry Potter; is Snape good or evil. I wanted to keep it light.
Sam is kind. Twenty years of slogging through the turd pile I knew a good man when he was sitting across from me. We date like normal people, things move relatively fast not crazy fast, I was going to go at his pace.
My dad dies five months after we meet, cancer. Sam met him once. The relationship was new. I tell him to give the funeral a pass. I thought it might be awkward for him to meet everyone I have ever known and be presented as my boyfriend at my father’s funeral.
He ignores me. He comes. He holds my hand. He sits in the front row during the service as if we had been together for years. He holds my hand. He meets people, he helps drive people, he helps with the old ones. At the burial he holds my hand. He is there every moment for me. I love him. He loves me.
This is my husband. Sometimes I still can’t believe someone loves me like this. Finding him was a fluke, random. If I lost him I would never find someone else. This is my disease. Sam holds my hand.
Until next time