This is an excerpt of my first two dates...........not the entire date........just teasers!!! Enjoy!!
Obviously, you’ve heard of it. Unless you’re living in a cave, you’ve heard of on-line dating, probably even tried it. Admit it. If you haven’t, in this day and age, you know at least one person who’s online now or has been. Well, I’m going to share my online diaries with you. Get a glass of beer/strawberry daiquiri, whatever your poison, draw a bubble bath, relax and be ready to be entertained.
My first online experience was match.com. See, my girlfriend attended a wedding of two match.com alums. Yep, ladies, you heard right. They met on match.com, dated, fell in love and got married. Of course, I don’t know all the details post wedding. For all I know they could be headed down to divorce court right now or the maternity ward to deliver that cute little baby. Anyway, so my friend attends their wedding and during the toast, the groom mentions that he met his bride on match.com after, are you ready, 199 dates. Yes, gasp, clutch your chest, your drink, whatever. Just clutch. Apparently, he decided that at 39, he was tired of dating and sleeping around and wanted to get married. He said he knew if he put his mind to it, and a couple of other appendages, I’m sure, he’d find a bride in sixty days. He went on dates three, sometimes, four times a day, breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner. Sometimes, even snack dates. He met all types of women, lawyers, doctors, nurses, artists, models, designers, teachers, engineers, devil worshippers, you name it. Being an ex-model, turned engineer, he wanted someone to compliment his good looks, I’m not making this up, and stimulate his intellect as well as his loins, yep. Ladies. I can only assume he watched Eddie Murphy in coming to America. I have no other explanation.
Well, apparently, none of the ladies did it for him until he met Melissa. An ex-model, turned pediatrician, she had everything he was looking for. At six foot 1, she was merely two inches shorter than him and stimulated him in more ways than one. Fast forward his 200th date, one year later and lots of tiffany blue, they were exchanging vows under a beautiful candle lit sky on the beautiful beaches in key west. What could be more romantic. As I wiped the tears of appreciation and pure jealousy from my face, I resolved to find my husband. On match.com. Hey, if he could do it in 60 days, I could do it before I turned 30. after all, I was only 27. I signed up, posted some pics, typed up my profile and waited. Ha Ha. This was going to be interesting. Very very interesting. The next morning, I checked my account. 450 hits and 127 emails. Wamoly Schmolly. This was better than I thought. My dating life was in business. I clicked on the profiles for the guys who responded to my profile. They varied in age, race, employment type and height. I was ecstatic. I responded to a few guys and waited.
Date 1 - TallDarkHandsomeLawyer
TallDarkHandsomeLawyer seemed like a nice guy. Yes, that was his screen name. His pictures looked great and he had a great smile. He described himself as outgoing, nice, generous, humble, ambitious, a go-getter and looking for the right woman to complete him. (the whole looking for the right woman to complete him should have warned me off)... Harmless enough, right? Yeah, ok. We exchanged a couple of emails for two months, and then phone numbers. He seemed really nice on the phone and we made small talk. He talked a lot about himself but I didn’t seem to mind because I guess, I had to get to know him sometime. Right. I didn’t know the etiquette. Anyway. we set up a time to meet and decided to go to lunch on Saturday at the cheesecake factory on the waterfront.
I arrived at the cheesecake factory with my posse. My group of friends who’d get a table nearby and rescue me if disaster struck. I walked in and saw him immediately. He was just like he said, tall, dark and handsome. Even more handsome in person. Wowwy. This was a good start. He walked over and said…"you must be Sassy. Great to finally meet you…I feel like I know you.” I answered, “same here…talking everyday for a month can feel like you know someone.” We ordered drinks and our meal and chatted. About everything. From blah to blah. You name it. We talked about it. And then he pulled out a questionnaire. And then he asked me if I was single. I looked bewildered and said yes. He asked me if I had kids, I said no. I noticed he was checking boxes on the questionnaire. He informed me that he polled all his match.com dates to see which was a perfect fit for him. By the time we got the venereal diseases and STD section of the questionnaire, I was beginning to lose it and dose off, but not quite yet. (I know what you're thinking......yes i know, i should have walked out then.......but I couldn't. I was very very intrigued..... I saw all the possibilities - a song about it, a book, a blog........ endless fodder).
After I had answered al the questions, he pulled out his resume and asked me if I had mine on me. I looked perturbed and slowly shook my head no. he informed me that he is always flabbergasted by people who don’t carry resumes or business cards on them. He then proceeded to go through the accomplishments on his resume with me. He graduated summa cum laude both undergraduate and law school at Georgetown University. He got into Harvard but decided not to go because he didn’t like the vibe when he visited the campus. As we skimmed through the resume, he informed me that he’s a young and promising, ---I swear, his words, ---up and coming litigator at a prestigious law firm in Washington dc and his goal is to become a supreme court judge or attorney general of the United states. Of course, his profile did mention he was a go getter and ambitious. How could I forget?
And then he said to me, “you have no idea what its like to be an eligible young bachelor, especially when you make 6 figures and work for a prestigious law firm. Being a young smart lawyer is a big attraction for single gals like yourself, especially women like who have a biological timebomb going off.” Huh?? WTF??? Of course, I kept eating. I had to. Just to keep myself from saying what I was really thinking.
And then he said “ I saw that your profile said you’re in the legal field…you must be a paralegal.” What is it like hanging out with lawyers all day." I coughed and said, hanging out with lawyers all day can be a drag but its not that bad. He then proceeded to explain the rest of his resume achievements, from his two internships at the white house to another with the Hague, in Geneva Switzerland. I was like are you kidding me? It was surreal. Very surreal. Impressive but not my enchilada. I tried to interject at various times during his spiel, you know, to talk about me. Where I’m from. What I do. What I am about. Didn’t work. (I neglected to mention that for the past two months of our emails/phone talk, not once was I able to talk about myself--it was always him, him, him....... again, i'm an idiot--that should have been my red flag...... After three hours of my polite nature being tested to the extreme and my nerves frayed one inch short of breaking, we left the restaurant and walked around the wharf.
My friends stayed at the restaurant, celebrating my misery. I thought the fresh air would do some good and help him relax. Throughout our stroll, he went on a tirade about weapons of mass destruction and how they should put all foreigners in a small cell and interrogate them for hours to see if they have connections to weapons of mass destruction. OH did I forget to mention, I’m a foreigner. He thought all Muslims should be shot. Oh yeah, some of my family members are Muslim. He also thought that if "I lost my accent, I'd get ahead faster in the legal world........people will respect me and take me seriously----perharps i may even be able to pass the LSAT and get into a good law school (when i lose my accent of course)......." If I recall correctly, my profile listed me as an attorney so.......... i didn't understand his nonsense. I had heard enough of his bull. I turned around and told him I had to end the date because I thought it was going too well and I didn't want to ruin the night. I explained that everything was so going so well that I never wanted to see him again......... I didn't want to ruin the perfect memories we'd made--- I kept a straight face. He looked at me, perturbed and stunned, like I was speaking a foreign language and said, but why, we're having such a great time. Nothing is ruined. You’re like such a great listener and you seem to totally get me. I can tell that you really dig me and that you're really impressed with me. I must be your best match date so far..." (He said more things but I can't remember). Really???? MFKR PLEASE!!!! I must have my signals all wrong because what I was conveying was THIS DATE IS OVER. I told him that I wasn’t feeling him and that we should end the evening. He said “whatever” and just walked away. Oh not before saying…"where are you going to find another 6 foot 4 hunk, educated, smart, charming and ready to settle down.” (Loser, please, in your office, perharps? or maybe one of your brothers?)... I shook my head and walked home to my computer. Eyeopener. This online dating thing was tougher than I thought. But I figured it would get better.......right??? but then......
Date 2 - Brothalooking4conscioussista
Brothalooking4conscioussista seemed normal enough. He emailed me a few times and we talked about travel, politics, the weather, real estate and other mundane things. He seemed a bit militant but I didn’t give it too much thought because I have some friends (and no, its not you darling) just like him. We agreed to meet at the waterfront for lunch. When I arrived, he gave me a hug and told me he was extremely glad I’m a sista, a real sista from the motherland, not these half baked sistas he runs into with their greasy perms and straight hair. He was happy I had real nappy hair. Okay??????? I felt uncomfortable but thought, how bad could it be. If anything, I'd get fodder for this blog, or a book or a song----We ordered our meal, which in itself was a production. He didn’t eat meat, he didn’t like starch, he didn’t’ like foods created by the MAN in the MAN’s effort to hold a brotha down. I was very close to asking who the MAN was……… I’m sure you’ve always wanted to know……..common, admit it......………..Is he human? An institution? The government? What? Who? The waiter? The restaurant owner? My boss? Who, I wonder, is the MAN? ...........but I digress.....
Back to my date -- he didn’t like salt water fish, only fresh water fish, he didn’t eat fish that swam upstream, only fish that swam downstream. Didn’t’ even know there was such a thing. Didn’t even know. Couldn’t’ stand the smell of shrimp. Lobsters disgust him, and as for lobster, i can't even repeat that comment.......... Finally he ordered a glass of water and a Caesar salad. I ordered myself the largest New York steak, RARE cf course, and a glass of red wine. HA!!!! He looked like he was going to have a heart attack. I didn’t’ care. At the rate the date was going, I could at least have some good food. Heck. We talked about different parts of Africa that he’d like to visit. 90 percent of the conversation was about how much reparations the president should give African American’s for slavery. Of course, he didn’t want to be called African American. He wanted to be called African because he was conscious. I was mindful not to ask what he was conscious about or conscious of. I figured that would be a completely new and heated conversation. (Now I feel like I should have asked- ).
He told me he hated black women who straightened their hair or wore extensions. Did the brotha look at my online pics. My weave will put any of Naomi Campbell’s extensions to shame. He asked a lot of questions, about me, what I do, where I’m from, how long have I lived here, what am I doing on match. I told him same thing he was doing match. Looking for love. He told me he wasn’t looking for love. He was on match.com to justify why he’ll eventually marry a white woman. Cuz sistas are some crazy ***itches. What????? Yeah. He’s dated all kinds of people but he knows he’s too conscious for a sista. A white woman can take away his pain and take away the emblem of slavery. With her on his arm, he’d have arrived. (I didn't ask him about his destination.......... didn't want to start that line of conversation.)..... But of course, he let me know that I don’t fit the crazy sista stereotype. I seem like I have my ***hit together. Oh, well, how nice. I ordered another glass of wine and the most expensive dessert (he told me at the start of the date that real men always paid for dinner------ and since he was real and all......) and ended the date. By then I'd figured out that the MAN wasn't holding him down. The chip on his shoulder and his ignorance were the likely culprits...Said goodbye and walked home to my computer. - cuz I’m a sucka for pain………..
