Dating Anecdotes. Take 3.

I am happy to say that my ‘dating’ profile is still defunct. I flip and flop between thinking I am ready to hit the dating world, and ‘I would rather clean toilets than sit through another hour of torture’. I fall more in the latter category. I’m not sure that my girls are ready for me to hit the dating scene, and while their opinion isn’t the ‘be all and end all’ to my decision making, we are a tight-knit team. Not to mention there are a few facts about me that lead me to believe I haven’t quite hit the ‘dating-ready’ phase of my life yet. Fact 1. I enjoy ‘pants-less’ down time. Yep. There is nothing more constrictive than dress pants. Or jeans. So comfy pants/shorts/whatever it is. Fact 2. I like my evening routine. Home, dinner, dishes, dog walk, activity if there is one, trashy TV time. Don’t judge. Fact 3. I love bedtime. Love it. Being snuggled in bed with the fur babies by 9:40 p.m. is completely unreasonable for some, but it makes me very happy. And it makes 6:00 a.m. seem a bit less daunting. But makes ‘dating’ logistically more difficult.

Back to my dating story. This one was worth mentioning because it goes to show you never really know what you are going to get despite how much you have ‘talked’ to someone before hand. This particular person was an acquaintance of an acquaintance. Not a blind date, but almost. After some emails, we moved onto texting. He was funny, (hugely important to me) and had good grammar and spelling. After chatting for about a week we decided to meet for coffee in my city. A short 15 minute drive from where he was located.

He looked exactly as his pictures did, goatee, a few tattoos, shaved head. Very presentable. It’s only when we started to converse that the real stuff came out. Not horrible, dark-secret stuff, but stuff that made me go ‘hmmmm’. Like he had just gotten his first apartment. At 38. He had been homeless up until the fall of last year. By choice. Enjoyed wandering and just pitching a tent wherever. Gave me some good tips on places to go that were technically ‘private property’ but that no one would find out. Okay… but he had an apartment now. That was progress. Not so fast. He was living there as the ‘landlord’ so that his rent was lower. He wasn’t handy in any way and had to fudge his way into the position but “so far so good” he said. He worked in IT (promising), but for an organization that was paying him minimum wage until they got more funding. Noble. But you have to be able to eat and pay your bills. Wait! He had the eating thing covered… at the shelter near his apartment (where he lived as a landlord who couldn’t fix anything). And as an aside, used to have a raging drug problem. BUT! Clean for a few years now.

I was trying really hard to focus on the positives! “But you have internet and a cell phone so that’s good!”, I say. Wrong. No cell phone – was borrowing someone’s phone from work. Internet? Nope. Went to the library. Again. Not huge things. But lots of little things start to add up. Quickly. That little voice inside my head was asking how sensible was it for this person to be dating? Perhaps other things required more of his attention at this point. But who am I to judge? So we continued to chat and then I decided it was time to go home and see the human and fur kids. As we were leaving and he headed towards his mini-van, I said to myself, “Yay! He has a car!” Nada. Also borrowed.

I think the real deal-breaker for me (if everything else wasn’t quite enough to seal the deal) was when he asked if he could call me again. After he had thought on the way home about whether or not he could date someone “MY SIZE”! WHAT!? I may have a little meat on the bones, but hold the phone. He called. From his borrowed phone most likely. I was busy. I was in comfy-pants watching The Following on my non-borrowed TV. No second date.

Leslie McBride

Full-time working single mom to human kids, full-time slave to furry kids. Advocate of volunteering for the whole family, hater of cooking, lover of cooking shows. Secret dream is to one day pen a book of my very own...

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