Well, I just had my first 41 year-old date. I can already tell this is going to be a problem, and not the fun kind of problem like running out of condoms or only having Pakistani Chardonnay in the house...the annoying ones like overdue bills and early morning meetings.
The minute I met the mature bachelor, he said "I just want to squeeze you!" hugged me hard and was quite literally bursting of excitement. If I asked him to marry me right there on the spot, I'm relatively certain he would have obliged. I don't want to sound like a masochist here, but I don't like it when guys like me that much. For starters, he knows very little about me, so his ecstatic reaction to seeing me in the flesh only makes me think he's built me up in his head to be some kind of Martha Stewart/Wonder Woman/Jenna Jameson. For seconders, now I know I don't need to do anything to impress him, and that is just no fun. I could have shown up without makeup on and farted during the appetizers, and I'm pretty sure I would have gotten the same warm welcome. The one good thing is that I immediately relaxed once I realized that he was never going to see me naked.
We went for lunch, the food was lovely. The restaurant was lovely. My pineapple soda was lovely. The conversation was absurd. First, he told me that when he was a kid, they had to break his jaw and reconstruct him from the cheeks down because he had some kind of facial deformity that caused his lower jaw to stop growing while his upper jaw to continued to expand. Huh. All I thought about for the next 20 minutes was how, if this did turn out to be my dream husband over the course of this meal, our children would have a 50% chance of having to endure years of operations and rehab to their faces, or otherwise end up looking like descendants of Bart Simpson.
When I tuned back into the live conversation, I hadn't missed much...he talked for 10 minutes about the exact same stuff we had discussed in our hour-long conversation three days prior. Then he asked me what I did for a living....which was interesting because again, we discussed that at length just 72 hours before lunch. So one of two things is happening here...either I can expect to have a severe decline in memory function between now and 41, or he was hammered when we last spoke and doesn't remember a thing about me. For the next 20 minutes I listened to him tell me about his job...again. Then, he asked me if I believe in the healing properties of stones and gems, hmm...I didn't know to be honest, I've never thought about it. I believe in the healing powers of scotch on the rocks, does that count? Regardless, this could be interesting for me to listen to, so I give him the conch again. He proceeded to tell me that he sleeps on a bed of magnets because it makes him feel closer to the earth. What? There were so many parts of that sentence that confused me, I have a headache from the facial gestures that followed. He then told me about the special shoes he buys, also with magnets. Magnets? In your shoes? What? I seriously need to Google this shit as soon as I'm finished writing today, I've never heard of such insanity. At this point, I'm thinking it's no fucking wonder this guy is single...I wouldn't exactly want to shack up in the magnetic bed of this cuckoo clock. And you just know that anyone who needs "special shoes" is in fact, just that..."special."
He walked me back to my office and continued to talk about how living with magnets is the best way to become one with nature. I prefer to go outside, but what do I know. When we hugged goodbye I didn't realize I hadn't looked at his face in quite some time. I looked up for what I knew would be our final goodbye, and there was a huge clump of chipotle mayo in his beard. Gross. I didn't have the heart to tell him at that point...he would have known that I hadn't looked at his face for a solid 30 minutes. Is this my future? Intensive surgery for my children, magnetic beds, and chipotle mayo? Jesus Christ. I feel sick. Maybe it's just the image of the mayo that I can't seem to get out of my head. I wasn't in my office for 5 minutes before he asked me out again. Oh Magnet Man, I hope you take my lack of response as a subtle hint that I'm not interested in waking up with my steel watch magnetized to your bedside. Keep looking, Magnet Man, I'm sure you'll find your Earth Girl one day. PS - I think I lost one of my bobby pins on your shoe.
No comments:
Post a Comment