Spring is in the air...

Spring is officially here! And, as Gemma’s quest to find Mr. Right marches through it’s third month, I’m starting to think the weirdoes that have been hibernating all winter are thawing out and crawling from their caves. And right into the dating world. I would think it’s just me, but my best friend Suze has been getting them lately, too. Not only the wildly inappropriate (I got hit on by a 53 year old man in Arkansas who owns a chicken farm! :O ), but also the dork-o-licious (A guy in suspenders and a sweater vest tried to pick up Suze) and the just plain wrong (married guy twenty years older than me who has an 8 month old baby at home and is looking for a ‘playmate’ because his wife is too busy to pay attention to him. I almost put a contract out on him.).

So, this week, I’ve invited Suze to pick out her favorite spring weirdo and come share with all of you...

Thanks, Gemma. (Hi Killer Fictionistas!)
Okay, so here’s my worst date lately. We’re going to call him The Greek. Why? Because he reminded me of a certain Greek God. Read on, you’ll figure out which one by the end...

First off, I have to admit that I was doing this online dating thing way before Gemma. I’ve been a single, internet savvy gal for the last... ahem… years. And, while I haven’t been actively dating all that time, I’m a bit of an online veteran. So, there’s this guy, The Greek, who has been on this one site forever. I’ve always thought he was kinda cute, but for some reason – timing I guess – we’d never actually met in person. And, while I know for a fact those picture of him aren’t recent because they’ve been on the site ever since I’ve been there, I figured I’d give him a shot. So, I did. I write to him. And, after a few introductory emails, The Greek suggests drinks at a local wine bar. Classy. I’m into it.

I dress to kill. (Seriously, ask Gemma. I looked hawt.) I show up and he’s looked pretty not bad himself. Yeah, definitely about ten years younger than his pictures, but still, pretty well preserved. I’m digging it. We sit and, at his suggestion, order some bubbly. He pays. Niiiice. And we get to talking about ourselves. Well, actually, he talks about himself. Which is okay. I want to get to know the guy, right? So, I listen. Then, at an appropriate point, I interject some info about me. Or, I should say I try to interject it. He cuts me off, and turns the convo back to him. Okay. Fine. I can groove with this, he’s probably just nervous. I let it go. And a few minutes later, try again, telling him some tidbit about my life. No dice. He cuts me off. Again. K, less endearing this time. But, I’m drinking nice champagne, I’m out with a decent looking guy, I’m trying to mellow with it.

Then, he redeems him self a bit. He says “So, tell me, what do you do?”
Right on. He is interested in me! So, I say, “Well, I run my own business doing-”
“Excuse me. I have to go to the restroom.”

O-kaaaaaay.
Well, I guess when you gotta go, you gotta go.
So, after cutting me off mid-sentence, he gets up from the table.

But, here’s the kicker. Instead of going to the bathrooms, he saunters over to the bar and engages some guy standing there in conversation for a full ten minutes (!) before making his way to the restroom. (He didn’t have to GO that BADLY, now DID he????)

Yeah, by then I’m about done with The Greek. I finish my bubbles (and order one more glass – hey, he’s paying, right?) then down that one as I wait for him to return. Finally, he does. And I quickly end the evening. He tells me he’ll call, that he’d love to see me again. Which, frankly, surprises me as he still knows zero, zip, nada about me at this point. So, we part way with him saying, “I’ll call you!” and me thinking, “I’m changing my number!”

Imagine my surprise when I get an email from him two days later. No, not asking me out for that promised second date. Instead it says he’s sorry, he’s changed his mind. He doesn’t think we have enough common.

My question – how the HELL would he know? He cut me off every time I tried to talk about me! But, on some level, I have to agree, we don’t have enough in common. He’s in love with him... and... well... I’m so not.

Figured out which Greek god he reminded me of yet?
Narcissus, God of having fallen in love with himself
“Narcissus, having come to a pool to quench his thirst, saw his reflection in its smooth surface, and fell in love with it. And since he could not obtain the object of his love, he died of sorrow by the same pool.”


Yikes! Be sure to flag his profile for me, k, Suze?
Me, I’m sure I’ll have a great spring fling story to tell next week as... I’m going speed dating!!! Yep, 10-15 guys in one night, five minutes a piece. Tell me that’s not a fun night. Hey if I’m gonna go on 15 bad dates, they may as well all be at once.

Wish me luck.

~Trigger Happy Halliday