The Hot Shirtless Cowboy...

This is what everybody wants to know - what happened with the Hot Shirtless Cowboy? Did we meet? Was he hot? Was he as good-looking in person? Was he shirtless? The answer to the last question is a sad no. Sad because it would have been the only time to get to see him shirtless in person, but I'm getting to that.

We met at an eating and beer-swilling establishment that would likely have allowed patrons to eat while shirtless, given how lax the place seemed to be regarding many other rules of civilized society, including the guidelines surrounding mullets, fem-mullets, mullets on infants and inbreeding.

I arrived before he did, and when I walked in the entire place went silent. It was the weirdest damn thing. If there had been a pub-style restaurant featured in the movie Deliverance, this would be that restaurant. I was afraid.

The Hot Shirtless Cowboy chose the venue, because he could walk there. Despite owning a car, motorcycle, dirtbike and horse in Ontario he was banned from driving for a little while due to some sort of multiple incidents involving speeding, dangerous driving, blah blah. I wasn't really paying attention as I was staring too hard at his pectoral muscles trying to determine whether one or both nipples were pierced. I have no idea if the horse was even part of the story or if I just made that up.

The first few moments were awkward. He was even better looking in person than his picture, and I felt...a little inadequate. A TV commercial for him would read like an ad for a sports car; sleek, manly, hard-bodied and slightly dangerous. My TV commercial would sound more like an ad for toilet paper. Pillowy soft. More to the roll. Quilted.

We loosened up though, and laughed a lot. It was going so much better than I had expected, especially given he let slip that he was getting an average of 12 messages a day from random women on the dating site where we had met. In total, and to this day I have not yet received a total of 12 messages from eligible men. I'm just sayin'. That story really had no purpose, but I really had to say it. A dozen a day. Jesus.

Anyhoo. It's going really well. He's funny, I'm funny and we're joking like we go way back. We slowly start going through the motions of leaving. From the table, to the door, to walking me to my car he mentions how we should see each other again a total of eight times. Eight.

He wants to know my schedule for the week, what are my plans for the weekend and he gives me his whole schedule for the weekend and we should totally hang out this weekend and the only time I'm busy is this time so call me any time before or after that and we should totally see each other again. Only eight times over. Eight.

I was in a very good mood. I didn't get the kind of let's do this again that means nothing -- he actually wanted to see me again. The Hot Shirtless Cowboy and the Pillowy Soft Bambi. I was in there.

It turned out I had plans that weekend, and I was very busy and then I was very busy being hungover from being so busy and didn't call the Cowboy. I didn't feel any shame in this, because he had my number too. I did try to reach him over MSN and didn't get a response back which wasn't terribly odd so I didn't think much about it.

Almost a week to the day we met I do get in touch with him. It's over MSN, because I'm lousy on the phone and I was suddenly nervous. As casually as one can while typing, I suggest we see a movie that Thursday.

Well.

I can't repeat the entire "conversation," because I'm trying to block it from memory but he was rude. Movie on Thursday? Nope. Just nope. No explanation, so I feel like an ass. I take it you're busy? Yep. Busy every day. I'm guessing he felt a momentary surge of guilt because he said he was planning on being out of town on Thursday. At a lake. With no phone or computer.

He shouldn't have bothered with an explanation because I forgot to delete him as a contact before logging off and noticed that he was actively online all day and all night Thursday - definitely in town. Then I deleted him.

This one really puzzled me. We had a good time, and it was better than I had hoped and that was my only expectation. Why go through the effort of convincing me he really wanted to see me again? Was it just practice for when he has to convince some bureaucrat to give him his license back? He really doesn't have to bother. He just has to lift his shirt to his chin and most women will lose all reason -- why the theatrics?

I felt like an idiot, but at least I could still look at him if I wanted to. Before we actually met he had added me on Facebook. I had felt at the time that he was moving a little fast, but now at least it appeared to the outside world that I had at least one hot male 'friend'. Who wasn't gay. But that wouldn't last either.

At some point, I'm not sure when, the Cowboy revoked his Facebook friendship. He was gone from my list of Facebook Friends, and just like that I had achieved yet another unprecedented low in both online dating AND social networking. There were to be new lows to come, but this ended the saga of the Hot Shirtless Cowboy, who I have no doubt is still hot and shirtless at least part of the day.

And I'm still pillowy soft with more to the roll. And I'm glad.