The last time I treated you to tales of my dating woe was The DejaDate back in March. I know how much you love hearing about my OKCupid dates, so I opened my good ol’ datebook and looked back to see what I’ve been up to since then. Now we can all laugh (or cry) together over how sad it is to be 35 and single in Baltimore***.
Let’s start with the Italian doctor. Smart. Accomplished. I’m sure he had a nice retirement fund. He was a real grown-up with a house in the County (and the kid to go with it. Blarg. But whatever). The doctor was really good on paper. Just like Dr. Bradley Meego (does anyone else get this reference?)
Potential, potential, potential. I wanted to like him, but it just wasn’t there. I wish that I was one of those girls who can fake it (and I don’t mean orgasms, I mean interest, attraction and affection). But I just can’t. Hence, I’ll never be a trophy wife.
Well, and I don’t have the tits for it.
Moving forward, there was a guy who is noteworthy only for the fact he has the exact same Vonnegut tattoo as Cleve (for you new friends: that’s ex-boyfriend from over 2 years ago Cleve). Seriously, that’s the only thing I remember about this dude.
Real talk: is it mandatory for all men under-35 to get Vonnegut tattoos? This was at least the 4th guy I’ve met with one. I don’t want to say it’s cliched, but…
It was the end of May.
On a hot day.
What was lurking under that cap? Was he bald? Did he have a Gorbechev birthmark? I will never know. Plus, he was wearing puka shells.
I was out on a date at a completely over-rated restaurant, when I learned that apparently if you list “average” as your body type, it means you’re flat-out chubby. I can only imagine what it means if you categorize yourself as having “a little extra.” And I’m not body-shaming here, I’m just calling out the lying.
Here’s a change of pace: I actually met someone off-line, at a block party. He was cute. We were flirty. We exchanged numbers. I thought, how exciting to meet someone not on OKCupid! Maybe this will make a difference! But when we went out on our date, he showed up stoned. Super-stoned. We had nothing to talk about. Also, he had no idea who The Kids in the Hall are. Oh, and it turns out he was only 23.
There was also the self-described foodie who wore a pinky ring. Who wears pinky rings? Mobsters from New Jersey, that’s who.
On a brunch date at another over-rated, over-priced restaurant (I’m looking at you, Food Market), I met up with a young attorney. He was tall, kinda cute, and like I said, a lawyer. There was potential there, people!
I ordered a Bloody Mary and some Crab Eggs Benedict. He ordered an appetizer, an entree, and a dessert. AT BRUNCH. Who the hell gets dessert at brunch? And the appetizer he ordered–it was a dessert! He bookended his brunch with desserts. Also, I have never seen anyone eat so fast in my entire life. Not Joey Chestnut fast, but it still bordered on impressive.
He was a really nice guy. With a really great metabolism. But the way he hoovered that food? Not attractive. I couldn’t overlook it. Oh, and man did my Crab Eggs Benedict suck. I asked for cocktail sauce the dish was so bland. Food Market fail.
Moving on–I found a guy on OKCupid that looked a little like Nicolas Cage. I shit you not. They could’ve been related. Awesome, right? I mean, for me, that’s like hitting the jackpot. So we made plans to meet for a drink during the World Cup.
He showed up in a bolo tie (where does one even find a bolo tie?). And although he was a dude who was involved in very interesting things (artist-type) he was boring. Bo-ring. Thank God that there was a game to watch. And thank God for booze.
Also of note: he did not ask me a single question about myself the entire time. At the end I actually said to him, you know, you’re a really lousy date.
He seemed shocked.
Since I was obviously not having luck with the guys that I typically go out with, I conducted an experiment and dated a guy outside of my comfort zone. Waaaaay outside my comfort zone. He was in his early 40s and had two kids. Totally outside my comfort zone.
But he was smart, well-read, politically-involved, interesting, and had a dry sense of humor. There was something very professorial about him. All good things. He was totally a grown-up.
But his situation was…interesting. He was separated from his wife and they had joint custody of the kids. Now, the estranged wife had a love nest with her boyfriend. But they didn’t want the kids to know that. So on the days where it was her turn with the kids, she moved back into the house with him. So for 4 days of the week they all lived together. Which, if you are familiar with Maryland divorce laws, you know that you have to live in separate domiciles for a year before you can even file for divorce. So, you can see, this marriage wasn’t gonna be dissolved for a very long time.
Let me recap: not only was he over 40 and with two kids, he had a part-time roommate who happened to be his estranged wife.
But still, I thought, it’s fine. I’m enjoying myself. He seems pretty great. This was an experiment!
That was until the wife’s love nest went up in flames. Literally. Her apartment caught on fire. So she had to move back into the house with him full-time. She lost everything. Everything. Except for her pet rats.
Fuck that shit.
And that, my friends, is where I’m at. The last crap date I went on was back in June. But I ain’t gonna let that streak of shitty dates get me down. Because:
Whatever. You say tomato, I say tomahto.***How sad? Just before I posted this, I got an OKCupid Email. One of my matches? A cross-dresser. Maybe I should just throw in the towel, adopt another cat, and accept a life of spinsterhood. (Be sure to check out realitytvgifs.com for more awesome pictures).