I realize I've been gone for a while, but since the details of my personal life are of no consequence to you unless they relate to dating, I'll just sum everything up by saying I've been working on some other projects and no, I don't understand the male species any better than I did several months ago.
The guy I alluded to dating in my previous post got really creepy prior to our second date. He started sending me texts that were gratuitously vulgar, even by my standards. Thinking perhaps I had sent him the wrong type of signals, I decided he still deserved a second chance. I think everyone has probably realized by now I don't always make the best decisions. The date didn't start out terrible, but after walking around Union Square's holiday market for a while and telling him how hungry I was, he picked a bar that didn't serve food. I left and got food, but when I brought it back, he ate most of it. Then he watched tv at the bar instead of engaging me in conversation and when he did, it was to ask me what I wore to bed and what type of fantasies I had. I was so out of my comfort zone. Makes sense that his last name was literally "Hard."
After that #fail, I dated Brian for a couple months and there wasn't anything inherently wrong with him. I should note, however, that this was my first attempt at dating a younger man and that was Brian's fatal flaw. By no fault of his own, he was not ready to head toward the "settling down" track at 26, but he could tell that I was. But what was his fault was dumping me in an e-mail two days before my birthday. You stay classy, Brian. (Note: At 29 1/2 I now refuse to date under 30. I think this is reasonable).
Then I found Rob, who, as a Catholic, Republican (not only a Republican, a Republican who actually voted for Mitt Romney), who did not appreciate baseball OR the Brooklyn Bridge and also smoked, broke every rule about what I wanted in a man. He didn't laugh. His fear of bedbugs kept him from going to movie theaters. He preferred dogs over cats. But god, was he smart. Conversation with him was always stimulating and I could truly open up to him. I found myself telling him things on our second and third dates that I'd never verbalized to anyone. He said things to me I'd been waiting for a man to say since middle school: "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" (I have that exact phrase written down, word-for-word, in an old journal. The page is titled: "What I wish a boy would say to me:"). He went out of his way to support my endeavors, even if it meant getting 100% soaking wet on his way somewhere else. He confided difficult things in me as well and it wasn't long before I found myself caring less and less about his repellent qualities.
I started to wonder how much I could look past to build a future with someone if the connection was strong enough; where's the fine line between compromise and sacrifice? I felt as though he was getting really carried away by the relationship and I didn't want to let too much time go by before having the conversation re: potential dealbreakers. If they were really going to break the deal, better have it sooner rather than later. Turns out he was freaked out because he thought I was the one getting carried away by the relationship. I maintain that I was not: I wasn't the one who came to support his event in the pouring rain, bought his nephew a doughnut, literally offered the coat off my back, sparked the conversation about relationship history, stalked via social media to find out about past boyfriends, told my mom about him over the phone in front of him... these were all things he did. All I did was accept his Facebook request and return his affection. So we mutually called it quits, and at least now I don't have to worry about a future argument debating whether or not our children are getting baptized. Whew, dodged that bullet!
Recently, I toyed with the possibility of dating the host of my favorite pub trivia night. My friends pointed out after several weeks that I was the only one at our table he spoke to and that when he talked to me, it was blatant flirting. I laughed them off; after all, they're girls, and girls always think guys are flirting with their friends. But then the next week he called me the most beautiful girl in the room. And the week after that my guy bff came along and agreed that Trivia Greg was into me. I'd thought for some time that Greg was really cute, so I finally allowed myself to agree that just maybe all of my friends were right. After trivia concluded that night, I stuck around at the bar for a drink, sans friends, and Greg sat down at the bar next to me. We talked for the next hour until closing time, at which point he paid for my drink, we left together, and he walked me to my corner on his way to the train. We hugged prior to departure, and that was that. We've spoken at trivia night since then, but never another flirt in my direction.
So no, nothing has changed. I still don't understand men one bit. And the only possibility I have at the moment is a blind date on Sunday with a dude whose last name is a synonym for "butt floss scrotum."
