His response to a few dating questions: He’d date someone with cold sores over someone with a child.
Good luck with that oral herpes logic!
I’m a little late, as usual, while I drive almost a half an hour away in Friday afternoon traffic. My make-up is nearly perfect but I am a little disappointed in my outfit. My apartment is a little bit of a wreck right now- a variable clothes explosion- I couldn’t find the outfit I was going to wear to save my life!
I pull up to his house, effortlessly yuppie with a well-manicured lawn, and hear Hipster’s music blasting from the window in the kitchen.
The screen door was propped open, inviting me in.
“Helloooo?” I called.
A half balding, older man popped his head in the hallway, “Hiya. Come on in.”
I walked into the kitchen and was greeted by Liz, a very petite blonde in ass-hugging jeggings, a white blouse, nude pumps and a white Chanel handbag.
“Hi I’m Liz,” she said and shook my hand.
So far so good. The three of them were downing moderately priced champagne. It was a bit early for me to drink so I nursed the glass while Liz went about the kitchen tidying (it was already immaculately clean). Poor Hipster looked agitated at the roommate and boyfriend intrusion.
Liz certainly didn’t get the hint and made herself at home on a bar stool.
“So Penny. Tell me about yourself.”
“What would you like to know?” I asked pleasantly.
“Hipster tells me you’re a single mom. So like do you have baby daddy drama? Are you friendly? Do you guys talk? Were you ever married? Do you miss your kid on weekends?”
I kid you not, this woman asked about 20 inappropriate questions in one breath.
I’m not the kind of woman to divulge my life’s story after knowing a person for five minutes, so I answered some of the more mundane questions.
She then went on to tell me about her impending divorce to a man 15 years older (in his fifties) who was a psychopath and a sex addict. I then learned she was trying to settle for spousal support and the house but the divorce process had taken two years.
“Do you ever want to get married? Was your pregnancy planned? Why don’t you and your ex talk? Even to co-parent?” she kept yammering.
After about an hour and a half of interrogation, I wasn’t sure that I liked this woman. She acted like someone who snorted too much Adderall, running around the house, chasing her dogs.
Finally she and her boyfriend left. I was relieved. Hipster went on to plate our first dish: perfectly cooked gnocchi with pickled artichokes, asparagus and a pesto sauce. The second course was even better: seared scallops on a bed of cauliflower puree (tasting surprisingly nutty) and sun dried tomatoes with flecks of bacon. The first two courses were so big that neither of us could stomach the other three he planned to cook. The desserts were cheese plates, delicious mulberry jam and chocolate-covered, fresh coconut.
We had amazing conversation, plenty of wine and those “come-hither” glances you see in movies. No more than two hours later, Lizzy and her boyfriend came home to make yet another cameo, drunker than before.
The two of them plopped down next to us and restarted our previous conversation. Liz rambled on about her female and male houseplant’s love connection (?!) and said things like “I know we probably shouldn’t be friends, but I think we will be,” “You should bring over your son next time- I love to babysit!” and “you have an intimidating type of style” because I wore black and white and dark makeup.
Our night ended after WE excused ourselves to Hipster’s room. I’m not quite sold on this chick, but their body language didn’t portray any hint of a past, romantic relationship.
At the end of the night, I am happy to report that we are now exclusive :-).
Should I give her the benefit of the doubt and loosen up or is something somewhat unhinged?
I was fifteen minutes late. The Uber driver was creeping on back roads at 10 miles per hour. The Hipster was waiting outside of the bar in his parking space. I had waited all week to wear my cute new mid-drift shirt with a long, body-hugging skirt and laced-up black pumps.
He saw me and walked across the highway wearing a dress jacket, T-shirt, thick black framed glasses and a scarf with yesterday’s gruff. He was the perfect display of San- Fran hippie and I loved his style.
He greeted me pleasantly with a hug and a quick “Nice to meet you.”
“Have you been waiting long?” I asked. I hate keeping people waiting.
“Only since 4:00 p.m.,” he joked. “I like to get a head start.”
We found a place at the bar and immediately I was struck by how gorgeous he was. His pictures definitely didn’t do him justice.
“So did I catfish you?” I asked. Our text messages that week were about his catfish experiences and since it’s hard to find me online, he was worried about a repeat.
“No,” he said. “You are absolutely stunning.”
I liked him instantly.
I was besotted by his intensely passionate energy. He was a smooth talker for sure, but not in a creepy, player kind of way. His eyes were authentic. His hand movements and gestures were excited.
We drank at the bar until I spied an open table and he pounced on it. To be honest, I wanted to have some space between us so he wouldn’t keep touching my leg- too intimate and sexual for a first meeting.
I always like to swap stories about online dating horrors- they’re always good ice breakers. He regaled me in his recent catfish story about a date with a women who was ten years older than her profile stated and with an ass the size of a “table.”
The Hipster kept asking me “what’s my story?” meaning he wanted the details of my ex-fiancee and so called “baby daddy.” I wasn’t too keen on getting into the particulars- it sounds crazy when I tell it aloud and it’s not really first date material. He backed off but told me he was divorced two years, co-parents well with his ex and is a very hands-on dad. He owns a catering company that allows him to work the hours he wants and spend ample time with his kid. I found it very refreshing. He’s also somewhat of a relator maverick, working his way to getting his real estate license and dabbling in selling property.
However, there were some potential red flags:
The night ended with him driving me home. I wouldn’t let him come up because I knew we might sleep together and that’s really not in my best interest right now. I’m not looking to hit-it-and-quit-it at this juncture in my life. But we did sit in his car for an hour just kissing, which was a nice departure for me because I’m not much of a make-out chick. He was an EXCELLENT kisser.
We have plans for lunch later this week since I have no free time for the ten days. Updates to come…
So I totally lied. The really great guy I was talking about:
He pretty much stood me up two hours before out date, citing a work emergency at 7 p.m. On a Friday. OOOOOHHHHKay. Douche:
He tried to reschedule. I told him that if he can’t even keep a first date, thanks, but no thanks.
I had to add an extra dating troll this week- it was too good to pass up.
A perfect example of a PUA tactical failure: Strange conversation openers.
I can’t make this stuff up! I’m not that weird/demented/bizarre.
My response (I just had to call him out):
I also don’t advertise that I’m a single mom. Before cry foul and fraud, let me tell you that I DO tell prospective dates I have a child on two conditions:
a.) they answer “yes” to the question of “Would you date someone with children from a previous relationship?”
b.) when they actually message me.
I feel like single mothers are put into the dating bottom of the barrel or are seen as easy “prey.” When I mentioned I had a kid in my profile, I got some REAL creepers and chauvinists. As soon as I took it out, it was like the dating gods welcomed me with more normal prospects (however, the creeps still fall between the cracks).
To give you an example of my bitchy profile, (verbatim) I can tell you it has piqued more suitors than repelled because my message inbox is at 98 percent even when I delete messages:
You should NOT message me if:
1.) You’re an alpha, sugar daddy, alcoholic, rage-o-holic, or PUA. Trying to evade detection is futile- I will know. Creepers with overly sexual profile names need not apply and an equally creepy opener will get a non-response.
2.) Your first message asks if I’m real.
3.) You’re a guy who posts inebriated or belligerent pictures that scream “Duuuuuuddde, that was an awesome night!” I’m sorry I even have to address this, but alas, it happens. Oh and wear a g*ddamn shirt and/or include your face in pictures. While we’re at it, don’t post a picture of you next to your ex girlfriend or an escort masquerading as your ex girlfriend.
Kind of bitchy, right? Exactly. I am giving my potential dates a lens into what they might be getting themselves into while telling them that I know about a few tricks in their book.
If I sound outlandish and demanding, then that’s what I’m going for. I need a man with a pair of brass balls and a sense of humor anyway. Intelligence to decipher my satire is also a must. Being tall is a bonus.
Actually, back-up, I have a love-hate relationship with the expectations of texting. I believe in setting healthy boundaries upfront.
My potential date prospect is kind of text-obsessed. Every few hours there is a text “check-in,” like “what are you doing?” “Hey doll,” or “Hope you stay warm in this chilly weather!”
For the record, I hate being called a doll, but that’s for another post.
I haven’t gone on a date with this guy, so checking in is pretty unnecessary. I stopped texting back after the “Hey doll” comment and resumed the next afternoon.
Why f*ck up the mystique of getting to know one another in authentic ways, like a date?
I can tell this guy wears his heart on his sleeve because his texts are fast paced, however, there’s no better way than to kill the romance by having a textual relationship.
He says he’s booked all week, which kind of sucks because Andrew is with his dad this weekend.
I want to say something like “why don’t we pick this conversation up on our first date?” but I’m afraid it’s a severe reaction in a virtual-obsessed culture.
To me, a predominant textual relationship means:
So, what’s the best way to turn a textual relationship into a in-person relationship without seeming aloof or into game playing?
An accidental mom living single and suffering from chronic "bitch face."
Inspiration through my thoughts, experiences and travels
A new Mom's journey about discovering