Saturday, January 24, 2009

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition

It's kind of funny, I suppose, that I found myself recently among a bunch of my guy friends as the one with the most dating experience. I'm by no means experienced, but I was the only one to have been married, and the only one currently even trying to date members of the opposite sex. Among the discussions were those specific to online dating, creating a profile, and setting search parameters. I understand their confusion, and the desire to think that it's as easy as custom-ordering a pizza: I want this size, with these toppings. It would be tempting to think that, after meeting someone, you could ask the obvious question- What's a great guy/girl like you doing single?

But that's what dating is. The whole ritual is asking that question, without using those words of course, and trying to determine the answer. It's like playing Taboo where the clue is the above question. Unfortunately, there are a number of other questions that you also cannot ask outright. What anti-depressants are you on? How is your therapy coming? The object of Dating Taboo is to get the other person to shout out their dysfunction first.

As I previously mentioned, I did actually meet a few people via an online dating site. In addition to initiating contact, I was surprised to find a couple of women who introduced themselves first. I like to call one of those women NobodyExpectsTheSpanishInquisition.

She wasn't exactly what I thought I was looking for, but I'll be the first one to admit that I don't know it all. She has a kid, which I'm wary-of due to the complications that invariably go along with that. But wary-of does not mean to-be-avoided, so we managed to synchronize our schedules long enough to have a drink on a very nice Saturday afternoon in her part of town, about 30 miles north of the city. (For those keeping score at home, that's 2 strikes.) I had a nice enough time, despite the BARRAGE of questions coming at me. It wasn't so much of a conversation as it was an interrogation. At the time, I thought I'd rather be water-boarded, but in hindsight it wasn't that bad, and I do understand her need to thoroughly vet any guy who might come into contact with her daughter.

Ultimately, what put the nail in the coffin for me was her inability to schedule her personal time in advance. I don't fault her, personally, for being a single-parent without perfect babysitting resources. Under different circumstances it might have turned out better. But her "found time" style of dating was too much like a booty call without the booty. The last such call I got from her was at 10pm on a Friday night, indicating that she was taking her parents to the airport in the morning (at least 30 minutes away) and did I want to come meet her for breakfast at 7:30am?
Uhh, no thanks.


At 2:51 AM, Blogger Jammie J. said...

Now, see? Here would have been the PERFECT opportunity to show up with a camera in hand and start taking pictures.

At 9:58 AM, Blogger Mike said...

Was she hot?

At 10:35 AM, Blogger tinyhands said...

J- Yes yes, next time.

ikeMay- Not hot enough for 7:30am on a Saturday morning.

At 12:15 PM, Blogger mellancollyeyes said...

A. That you put Eddie Izzard up makes me love you all the more.

B. I tagged you in my blog so get on it, mmmkay? Thanks.

C. My word verification below is a badly spelled version of the word "disease." It's "dissesse."

At 5:32 PM, Blogger Beth said...

Wait, hold up. She was hiding the kid from you dawg? Listen, you don't want no babby-daddy drama. Trust me on this one, alright. For all you know, he in prison right now. Let's say y'all living together. Next thing you know, you the one going on the 1st and the 15th to pick up the government check. What if he got boys that's on the outside and they stalking you. You see what I'm saying? You got to think, partner....


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