Each time I find someone online who appears to have potential, I call a meeting with the girls. We go over the personal profile on whichever site he came from. We discuss the pros and cons and I make a list. It’s a silly process. But it had a purpose when I began online dating. I’ve got a history of making less than spectacular relationship choices. Tammy especially has been around for a lot of mopping up when the relationships went south. I’m an emoter. I lead and follow with my heart. It’s almost like I’m a beacon for emotions everywhere. I decided when I began this dating thing to do it differently than I had before. I may not end up with anything better than I’ve had, but it should be different.
All along, Michele has been a firm supporter of using logic in making relationship choices. It was a foreign concept to me when she brought it up. Now we conveign in the boardroom every time I come across someone with potential. Interviewing potential dates. The usual application form. We just fill it out together. Michele and Tammy add their input to mine. And a guy either makes the cut, gets consideration with further information needed or he’s off the table all together. Boy, are the girls harsh. It seems pretty intense sometimes. Like they’re choosing who will be that one guy who will be saving the world or something. I’m just trying to find someone to go to a movie with.
The Editor made the cut. He’s divorced. Employed. Educated. Witty. We have a few interests in common. So there’s a place to start. Potential. We made it through the initial Meet & Greet still both intact. He contacted me afterwards. That’s a plus. The next step is a date. In all honesty, I had been dragging my feet with regard to The Editor. I was rather taken with Goose so I put the brakes on The Editor. I went so far as to tell him I’d met someone before him and I was going to see where that was going. (We all know where it ended up.) Close window, open door, next opportunity awaits. At the Fainting Goat no less. It’s a Superbowl date. I like football. I don’t watch it regularly. But I can follow along and I enjoy the excitement. I did the usual primping and after my son went with my ex, I began driving. This time The Editor chose a place a bit closer to where I live.
I arrived before he did, just before dusk. After finding the restaurant, I still had 45 minutes before our meeting time. I drove along the main road and pulled into Walgreen’s Drug Store to wander and fill my time. I found that they have a wonderful assortment of Valentine cards on display. I pulled cards and read them. Choosing just the right cards for each of my kids and Tammy and Michele. Share the love as they say. Bag in hand, I pulled back onto the main road, and parked this time at the restaurant. I waited as the sun dipped further and further over the horizon. Hoping that I wouldn’t slip on the ice when I’ll be walking into the restaurant in the dark. Grace is not my strong suit. I’ve been told that I “trip over cracks in the sidewalk.” I hate to admit it, but it’s soo true. Sitting there waiting, I realized that The Editor has settled for a clumsy Munchkin. Ahhh! Of course when I’m feeling at the height of my self-confidence, that’s when he pulls into the parking lot. Fortunately one of his talents isn’t reading my mind, so my clumsy secret is all mine. He greeted me with the usual hug and a playful little kiss on the lips. Hmmm… nice.
As we entered the building we were met with very loud laughter. The crowd already gathered was a much younger college-age group that had all but taken over the bar. A hostess greeted us, making obvious note of our age and seated us all alone in the restaurant. There were huge TV screens in every corner of the place. We weren’t going to be missing any plays in this football game. Unless of course there is a power outage from excessive television use. I was overly curious about the name of this establishment.. and searched high and low for a goat… either fainting or still standing. Let me tell you, there were none to be found, unless of course you count The Editor and I being two old goats. (I’m not claiming to be old.. I won’t ever admit it.. denial is a gift in some cases. This being one of them.) The hostess seated us at one of those higher bar tables.. the ones where I need a step-ladder to get up on the chair. (Apparently my level of gracefulness is being tested. I never got down off that chair until we left. I was only gonna mange that climb once.)
After beer and sandwiches had been ordered, the chatting and laughter began. The Editor and I really click on the ‘fun’ category of the dating application. We missed every single play of that game. Seriously, the only reason we knew anything exciting was happening was when the college group roared from the bar. The Editor and I would cease conversation and look at the television. Of course by then the play in question was long over. There was a point when things between us began to turn in a different direction. He excused himself to use the restroom. I think he took a hormone shot in there. When he returned there was a difference in his conversation and in the way he was looking at me. It felt slightly uncomfortable and disappointing. He knew I was freshly out of a relationship with someone else. This was our first ‘date’. (Not that I’m judging what anyone else’s choices would be. I just knew what I was and wasn’t comfortable with.) We were getting along. But I didn’t make nay sexual overtures. That’s when he made his move.
“I noticed the signals you’ve been giving me.” he began.
With raised eyebrows and wide eyes, I looked at him. I was scanning my memory for any indications that could have been misunderstood. I was there for a burger and a beer. An evening of conversation and witty banter. I wasn’t prepared to ‘deliver’ anything else.
Looking back, at this particular point, I should have sent a definitive signal and fainted, just like the goat.