Starbucks again. My feelings regarding this date had been swinging between mildly optimistic (ex. I'll brush my teeth before leaving the house) and really not excited at all (ex. Brush? Anything?)
One the one hand Sid* came across as very intelligent. He rode a motorcycle. He was tall. On the other hand, during one online chat he revealed that he used to get around town on a unicycle and had camped at a nudist campground.
Incidentally, he also rode the unicycle around the nudist campground which was not, and will never be, an image I needed. I sensed I may be dealing with somebody a little more quirky than I would like.
The unicycle revelation especially threw me off. I want my men to drive motorcycles, fighter jets, fire trucks or some combination of the three. I like my men manly. It would also be nice if they drove a truck too, in case I ever move or want to shop at IKEA. Personally I don't think these things are asking too much.
I weighed the motorcycle verses unicycle and decided I would give him a chance to redeem himself for ever making me picture a naked guy with a single wheel and a pole sticking out of his ass. Hence, another evening at Starbucks.
For the first time in a very long time, I walked in and I liked what I saw. He was...hot. I was instantly glad I had brushed my teeth afterall in an uncharacteristic burst of optimism. I hurried over to the table, with a huge smile on my face.
And then he spoke, and I stopped dead.
There is no other way to describe what I was hearing without reverting to a movie reference. If you haven't seen these movies the rest of this posting will make no sense to you and I apologize right now for not being talented enough to describe it on my own, and you may as well stop reading. Sorry again, have a great day, and check back later.
Alright then. Have you seen 'Ice Age' and or 'Ice Age 2?' Those really cute movies with the prehistoric squirrel and the nuts and Woolly Mammoth/Everybody Loves Raymond Guy and Dennis Leary as the Sabre-Toothed Tiger and...that really funny sloth? Sid the Sloth? With the high-pitched voice and terrible lisp? With that voice that's automatically funny as long as it's in a cartoon and not coming out of your coffee-date? Yeah.
At first I thought he was joking. He had asked me if I wanted to get a coffee and I stood there, head cocked, wondering whether I should laugh and whether he was really so nervous he had to resort to making funny voices. When he repeated the question and the voice still didn't match the hot guy it was coming from, my heart sank a little.
It sank because I knew two things for certain. First, I am actually a shallow bitch and there is no point in hiding it. Secondly, I am going to hell. For reasons why, see the first point.
The barista started to smirk when he ordered his drink because 'macchiato' did not sound right at all when he said it. It was going to be a long evening.
As long as he wasn't talking, I would swoon a little. As soon as he spoke, I would picture the furry little sloth from 'Ice Age,' which is a real romance killer.
Naturally, Sid liked me quite a bit. He wanted to take my hand, he wanted to walk me to my car and he wanted to see me again. Dammit.
I debated the next couple of days. He was nice. He was cute. I could introduce him to my friends as long as he didn't say a word. It could work. I wouldn't want him talking to me either, but some of the most exciting relationships I've had involved almost no conversation so it's not impossible.
We made arrangements for a second date.
Perhaps his voice would not be as jarring if I could just get used to it. Getting used to it shouldn't have been a problem, as Sid really liked to talk. And talk. And then a deep breath...and talk. Even though he was dominating the conversation, I remained completely incredulous.
I could barely even process that his topics of conversation held no interest for me, and he hadn't asked me a single question about myself. An hour into our second date and he still hadn't a clue what I did for a living.
I was so mortified by his cartoon voice and my shallow refusal to give him a fair chance because of it that I was failing to notice he wasn't right in so many other ways.
Until he told me about quitting his current job in forestry. I asked him what he was planning to do now, and he told me he was wanting something lighter, with less stress. He had a plan. Quizno's was hiring.
For the last time, I stared at him like he was joking. I know that toasted tastes better, but this was crossing a line. This time, I had to ask whether he was joking. He was not. Quizno's needs people - what's wrong with Quizno's?
And so the date ended there. Not because he sounded like a pre-historic cartoon sloth. Not because he spent 20 minutes explaining the difference between various paints used on road signs. Not even because he showed up to the date driving a frigging scooter and not a motorcycle. Oh no. The date ended because he couldn't afford me, and I was really pissed off that he would even think he could.
I am a shallow bitch. No point in hiding it.
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