This is another dysfunctional installment of my online dating series, “Mis-Matched to Miss Matched.” Polite social interaction appears to be going the way of the dodo bird. There is no good way to ease into this, so, let’s jump right in!
The first bachelor, a 54-year-old IT professional, passed the email test, but failed the phone conversation test miserably. During the course of the conversation, he brought up the subject of sex.
He clearly stated his view on the subject, and I quote, “By the third date, a woman should be ready to give up the goods.”
Where do I start with this? Even if this guy bought me three very expensive dinners at St. Elmo’s, I would not consider that appropriate criteria to have sex.
And goods??? I’m sure he would have wanted the entire package of “goods and services.” Let’s face it, in the sex department, the goods aren’t quite as enjoyable without the accompanying services.
Nevertheless, this girl and her “goods and services” are worth a lot more than three dinners, even if decadent desserts are included!
Next up was a 52-year-old executive at a large company in Indianapolis. He actually passed the phone interview, but live, he was a completely different person.
I have nicknamed him, “The Negative Bachelor.” The restaurant was too warm. The fire made the air too dry. He asked the waiter questions about the precise origin of the seafood. The poor kid had no idea.
Dude, if you want the salmon, order the freaking salmon.
Then he substituted the sides. Not because of an allergy or health reason, but because, “the chef obviously doesn’t know how to pair sides with entrees.”
When the food arrived, he complained that his potatoes were too lumpy. The carrots were too soft, the squash was too hard. His chardonnay was not as good as the chardonnay he had last week.
My mahi-mahi, wherever it was from, was fantastic. I loved my lumpy mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables.
To my surprise, he insisted on ordering dessert. Why? I don’t know. He did not enjoy the rest of the meal. So, I did not understand why he wanted to perpetuate the experience. He ordered cheesecake.
Guess how that turned out.
It was not as good as the cheesecake he had had in New York City the previous month.
I gazed into the fire, which under different circumstances might have been romantic, and attempted to drown myself in the chocolate dessert I ordered. It was delicious. I scraped my plate to savor every drop of chocolatey goodness. Alas, not even the chocolate could make up for the bad company.
A well-intentioned friend set me up on a blind date with a guy she knew. He was my age, and he looked okay in a picture she showed me.
He walked into the restaurant wearing a baseball hat, chomping on a piece of gum. The hat never left his head. And the gum chewing was distracting, to say the least. Finally, he took the gum out of his mouth. My praise to God was short-lived.
There are a myriad of things you can do to dispose of chewed gum. You could dispose of it prior to meeting your date for the first time. Or, you could excuse yourself to the men’s room and throw it away in there. Or, you could dispose of it in a napkin.
Did he do any of those? Unfortunately, no.
Instead, he removed the gum from his mouth and stuck it on the side of his drinking glass. Then, he proceeded to play with the gum like it was Silly Putty. And when he was finished eating, wait for it — he put that same piece of gum back into his mouth.
I can only imagine that the look on my face mirrored the utter and complete dismay and disgust I felt. Too bad no one took a picture of me. It would have brilliantly captured that Kodak moment for sure.
Moving on to a seemingly, happy-go-lucky bachelor of 50 years. He readily admitted that his mood was due to his habitual pot usage.
Ugh. “I don’t do drugs, and I don’t want to be around anyone who does.”
“I’ve been doing it for as long as I remember. But for you, I’d give it up.”
Uh huh. “Sure.”
Then with his next breath, he said, “You should try it though. You’ll like it. It will make you more creative.”
I refused, “No. I have no desire to. Never have, never will. I’m creative enough.”
“It will make you more creative than you ever imagined. You don’t know what you’re missing. All the great artists do it.”
“I’m not missing anything.”
“You know, sex is only good if you get high beforehand.”
What??? “If you have to get high to enjoy sex, you’re not doing it right.”
So far this year, there has been a plethora of overbearing, controlling bachelors. All of the men were in their fifties. Yeah, I was on an older guy run for some time. I ran out of forty-somethings without any pets. I am not sure if the over-fifty statistic has anything to do with it, or if it was just coincidence.
The common theme was the men telling me all of the things that I should and/or need to do. Here are a few, in no particular order.
“You need to learn to play golf.”
“I’m not really interested in golf. I have other interests. It’s great that you play golf with your college buddies so often.”
“You need to learn. I play golf, so you need to play.”
“We have different interests. We don’t have to do everything together.”
“Yes, we do.”
Thinking he was joking, I laughed and responded, “No, we don’t. But I could drive the golf cart.”
Sternly and slowly, he said, “You’re not hearing me.”
Oh yes, I am, Mr. Control Freak. Yikes!
“You should join my gym. It’s the best one in the city.”
“I exercise at home.”
“That’s not good enough. You need to join the gym, so you can get buff.”
“I’m happy with my body the way it is.”
“You have areas of your body that need improvement.”
I will be the first one to admit my body is not perfect. But I do not need a man telling me that my body needs improvement on a first date.
“You should wear higher heels.”
“I’m comfortable in these.”
“I like higher heels.”
Then you wear them. “These are the highest ones I have.”
“You need to buy higher ones. You’d look sexier.”
I laughed, “Trust me, I wouldn’t. I am not graceful in four-inch heels.”
Looking at me very intensely, he whispered, “Babe, your feet would never touch the floor. Ever.”
Not exactly appropriate first date conversation. And I hate being called, “Babe.”
“I want to throw you on the back of my Harley and head down to Brown County.”
“Brown County is beautiful, but I don’t ride motorcycles.”
“You just need to try it.”
“Already tried it. I rode on one once. I didn’t like it at all. I won’t do it again.”
“I’ll change your mind. Guaranteed.”
“Sorry, you won’t. I like road trips in a car. Those are fun – rain or shine.”
“You’re just a stuck-up bitch, aren’t you?”
These examples are just the tip of the iceberg. Time and time again, polite conversation is nowhere to be found. And men continually attempt to pressure me to do something I am not interested in doing.
Why do these men feel as if they have to force women to do or like everything they do? I am sure Dr. Phil has done plenty of shows on this subject. But it still baffles me.
I do not try to force my interests and hobbies on anyone. I would never dream of it. We are all individuals. We do not have to be identical on everything.
Potential mates should have similar mindsets. That way, we can appreciate each other’s likes and dislikes to discover things to do together as a couple.
The problem with online dating algorithms is that they can not analyze mindsets. Hence, my ongoing conundrum.
Copyright © 2015 by Suzanne Purewal