Set Ups

Am I the only one that's morally opposed to the set up? I have this theory (you'll soon learn that I have a lot of those and very few of them are based in reality) about being set up or blind dating. One of two things is bound to happen, either A) things turn out great and you hit it off and get married and are then obligated to remain besties with whomever it was that introduced you for the REST OF YOUR LIFE or B) it goes either badly or really badly and you sit there throughout the evening plotting revenge on your former friend and thinking, "This is what they consider compatible?!? It's not that we're in different leagues [after all, you don't want to seem too shallow], but we're playing totally different sports."

Don't get me wrong, I understand that in this day and age - and at my age - the options for ways to meet men are limited at best. I could meet someone at church, bump into someone at the grocery store, drop my water bottle in front of them at the gym, hit on the FedEx guy, update my (nonexistent) online profile, or allow my friends to introduce me to potential suitors (yup, I said it).

Just last week I got a text from my BFF, MJ, saying that she had, "a lead on a 31 yr old guy from Minnesota who works with Ike (her brother)." I know she didn't mean it, but it makes me sound like a victim on CSI. I guess I should be grateful that I'm not naked and laying on an ice cold autopsy table . . but is that where my dating life is? Have I become the cold dead corpse?

So here's my question, single readers, do your friends consider you projects? Do they feel the need to set you up with everyone they come across because you're both single? And is that enough to consider giving it a try? Or do you have a higher standard that a blind date must meet before you'll go out with them? Do you go out with anyone because it's free food (don't laugh, that's what got me through college)?

You see, my house is now under contract and the new buyers want me out ASAP and would like to rent it from me until the sale closes. Actually, they even want to buy all of my things . . couch, bed, kitchen table, dishes, towels, sheets, decorations etc etc etc. I'm not sure if I should feel flattered that the like my style or freaked out because this retired couple is trying to take over my life. But that's not the point. My problem is that due to the fact that I'm soon to be both unemployed and living in my parents basement in the middle of nowhere, I don't think I'll ever date again. Or the very least, not until I find a job and get out of there and with with economy, who knows when that might happen. I'm sure there are single guys down there but I'm related to 97% of them and the rest are divorced with multiple kids. So do I now lower my standards and go out with anyone because it's better to be with someone than to be alone? Or do I hold out and risk becoming the crazy cat lady that lives with her parents??

Update

I was hoping to have a little more background information on this guy before I did an update post but I haven't gotten it yet and I know inquiring minds want to know, so I thought I'd just go ahead with it.

I went to church on Sunday, still unsure if I was going to stay for the whole meeting or not. Twenty minutes into Sacrament Meeting I was ready to leave. I knew the circus was in town, but I had no idea they were coming to my ward. So needless to say, he plan was to pay my tithing and then ditch so I could make it to the Single (adult) Ward on time.

When the meeting ended I happened to walk past a girl friend from high school (imagine my surprise a few months back when I realized she was in my ward) and told her I needed to talk to her and asked her to call me later (and that is the aforementioned information I was hoping to have for the post) but she's got four kids and is kinda crazy busy.

I was headed out of the chapel with my sunglasses on my head and my keys in my hand when I happened to pass "that guy" in the hall. He was talking to someone else so I tried to avoid eye contact and keep moving but he wasn't having it. "Walk quickly and with a purpose" is what kept running through my head. I was relieved when I hit the door without any real interaction. Outside the door was another crazy weird guy in the ward who was having some sort of an altercation with one of his Sunday School kids and making a little scene of his own - and we all know there can only be one of those a day, right?

Half way down the stairs I heard someone calling, "Christine! Christine?" I knew there were no other women around and even though I knew it was him I kept going because (work with me here) my name is NOT Christine. I've been called by my sisters name many many times in the past but never by her middle name so I chose to ignore it.

I was at my car, I can do this. No, no I can't. I opened the door and turned around to get in and he was two feet away with his clear braces right in my face. And this is where I protectively get behind the door.

"Hey Christine, I'm really sorry about the other day. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I don't want you to think I'm stalking you or anything (FYI: this is why you don't correct a creepy man when he gets your name wrong - makes it much harder to cyberstalk). But, I just really think you're pretty so if you'd like to go out sometime call me." So not gonna be your arm candy, buddy.

"Ya know, honestly," I countered, "I was under the impression that you were married."

"Oh no!" He says like I should have known better. "My divorce was finalized a couple of months ago."

When recounting this story to a friend at the SAW she informed me of her rule which I've got to say, I'm going to adopt. The divorce must be finalized for over a year before I'll consider going out with you (of course that wouldn't have made a difference with this guy).

So anyway, when talking to MJ about this on the phone earlier in the week she asked if I could find a picture, "Do they have pictures on the ward website?" I have no way of knowing - I'm not registered to get on the site. So instead ... I used my second favorite tool: Google. And while I didn't find a picture, I did find a comment he'd left on Feminist Mormon Housewives (how's that for a contradiction in terms?!?) a while back. And yes, I realize you can figure how who he is by digging around this blog but honestly, I'm okay with that because I don't think any of you are really THAT concerned. However, if I suddenly disappear one day and no one knows what happened to me, start digging around there and check him out first.

Anyone who thinks they can get rich by putting facebook out of business automatically gets a big fat NO in my book. Before you ask, yes I'm sure it's really him and not just someone with the same name. The phone numbers matched up to those on his business card.

And I guess the argument could be made as to whether looking someone up online before you go out with them is a good idea or not. In this case, it really wouldn't have made a difference because there's no way I was going to go out with him anyway, but what about the next guy I meet? And has anyone ever done that to me? Actually, that wouldn't really matter either. Other than my blogs I don't have much of a google worthy internet presence anyway.

What do you guys think? Is it a good idea to google potential dates? Have you ever done it? Do tell!

It's the date that would not end

Preface
By popular demand I've decided to post this story. While it happened about five years ago, it's well worth repeating. I was just going to copy my journal entry directly but I changed my mind once I started reading it and I've now filled in a much of the missing details that I didn't put in there originally. Now keep in mind that this is a VERY long story but if you enjoy laughing at the expense of others (in this case, mine), then it's probably well worth your time. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Phone Call

Friday September 5, 2003

I have this friend from church, Tina*, and she and her husband, Gary, have had a friend staying with them this past week. His name is Rick. I met him at this pool party/barbecue thing at Lauren's house on Monday. I’m sure he’s nice enough but not really anyone that I would ever look even consider dating or for that matter ever even give a second glance to. Anyway, they swore that they wouldn’t try to do the hook-up, matchmaking crap that I hate so much. They both claimed they hated that stuff too but I guess they lied. Last night he called and asked me out. I guess he’s going out of town for a week but then he’ll be back on Thursday or Friday. What was I supposed to say? I’m very annoyed with them for this. Had Tina given me a warning and told me he had my number I could have been prepared with an excuse (or just not answered at all). I hate the idea of sympathy dating and that’s exactly what this will be. Dating sucks enough as it is – and now I’m required to go on a date I don’t want to be on just out of pity. Or maybe it’s a lack of self-confidence or self-assurance on my part because I didn’t have the courage to just tell him that I just wasn’t interested. But, I guess I’ll just look on the bright side – it’s free food.

Chapter Two: The Car

Sunday September 14, 2003

So Rick was suppose to be back into town yesterday but he called and said that his flight had been canceled and he wouldn’t be in until 10ish and he wants to get together after Church today. I really don’t want to go out with him on a Sunday but he just wouldn’t give it up and he kept going off about how he’d only be in town for a few days, blah blah blah. I know that I’m evil for doing this but Rick has a very . . . umm . . . prominent nose and we just can’t help making fun of it. Marion just keeps going on with the nose jokes but then she got on me about being nice and giving him a chance. She said that if I’d give a big black, drug dealing criminal with a “baby mama” a chance then I have to give the skinny white, clown nosed army boy a chance too. Sometimes I hate her logic. Why can’t dating be easier? Tina is so going to pay for this whole Rick thing.

I don’t think I’ve had a more miserable experience in my entire life. He’s a nice enough guy (if you can get past the I Should Be Committed vibe), but uumm . . . eww. When he came into the house to get me Jet (Marion's son) was talking to him and he noticed how hairy Rick’s arms were and pointed it out (gotta love toddlers). Rick proceeded to tell us a story about how when he was deployed once the kids there were so enthralled by how hairy he was and called him the gorilla or something like that. So wrong. It’s one thing to be hairy, it’s another thing all together to brag about it.

So I had my hair down and on the way out the door he tells me that I should get something to pull my hair back because he’s driving a convertible like it’s something so cool and I should be impressed. He was wrong. My first thought was, “Are you kidding? I don’t want people to see me in your car!” but it got even worse when I actually got outside. His "freakin' awesome convertible" was an early 90’s Geo Metro! And to make matters worse, it was bright banana yellow! Way to draw attention to yourself. If it weren't such a piece I would think it was a mid-life crisis car. So I get in the car and then he makes me wait for a minute so that he can get his hat out of the trunk because he didn’t want to get a sunburn on that big ol’ schnooze. He then proceeded to reach into the backseat to get a screwdriver to pop the trunk with!! While he was digging around in the trunk I looked around the car and found that the drivers side door handle was broken, forcing him to open the door from the outside, and the glove box was being held shut by duct tape. Trying to be the optimist, I figured he just wasn’t worldly. (feel free to giggle now) I could have cried when he got back into the car wearing some sort of army hat with a HUGE brim and a string that pulled up under his chin to keep it on. Some people just shouldn’t be allowed out in public on their own. Oh, so back to the nose. All I wanted to do all night was paint it red and see if it would honk. I’m evil, I know. And I’m okay with that.

Chapter Three: Hell On Earth

Rick decided that he wanted to take me miniature golfing. Are we in high school again?!? Not really a thrilling one-on-one activity in my opinion but I just kept thinking that at least he wasn’t trying to take me to a dark theater so he could “make his move”. I think I would have had to put my foot down on that one (wait for it . . . ). So on the way there I was making a mental list of all the things that I can do while golfing that would change his mind about ever wanting to go out with me again. There’s nothing like preventative action. Upon arrival at the golf course I promptly took my golf club and began doing a balancing act down the barrier of the first hole which quickly turned into a twirling routine (for those of you taking notes, golf clubs are not well balanced enough to use as a baton and will throw off your balance, especially when walking down a cement barrier that is only three inches wide). When that didn’t bug him I began humming a circus like tune. No reaction. Dang.

Somewhere between the first and the sixth hole he started talking like we were in the beginning of a whirlwind relationship with the next likely step being Elvis walking me down the aisle in the Chapel of Love in Vegas. Seriously, he really asked me how much I owe in student loans because he wanted to know what he was getting in for! Are you kidding me?!? Normally I would have just told him that it wasn’t any of his business and I wasn’t going to discuss money with him but instead I saw it as an opportunity to add to the list of reasons why he shouldn’t want to date me and gave him a number with an extra $25,000 tacked onto the total! And he just said, “good to know,” and went on like I had told him my total was just $25. I don’t remember what I said next but I know that I was down by the hole and he was up at the beginning and he shouted (and I mean SHOUTED) across the course, “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?” How does one even being to answer a question like that when the answer is a resounding, “Hell no!”? People all over the course were staring at me, waiting for my answer with baited breath. I couldn’t think of anything to say and I’m afraid that what I said may have just egged him on even more. “It’s no fun if you have to try,” is what slipped from my lips and then I looked down at my ball and let my hair fall in front of my face so he couldn’t see the look of disbelief and ‘holy crap’ that seemed to have taken up permanent residence there.

Oh, but wait, it gets better! He kept referring to all of the women that he could bring home to meet his mom and what kind of women he thought she would like. Seriously, all he was doing was giving me more material for things to do that he wouldn’t/shouldn’t like. He also asked me if I’d consider going to the Temple to take out my endowments without going on a mission or getting married. I was trying everything I could think of to get him off my back so I said that I had thought about it but then I changed my mind because that would mean that Id have to buy a whole new wardrobe and I just wasn't ready to give up my miniskirts. He just nodded and said that that was totally understandable. What does a girl have to do get a date to take her home? Fake an aneurysm?

Around the 15th hole (yes, there were 16 holes on this course – I was starting to wonder if he’d tricked me somehow and we’d started the course over again without my noticing) he started talking about how hungry he was and that he’d seen this grill he wanted to try out, which of course means that he intended on taking me to dinner. I began to weep on the inside at that point. So as we’re being seated in the restaurant our waiter asked us if we were from the area and Rick had decided to take the reins when it came to talking to the "staff" and everytime I tried to say something he cut me off and answered for me. He informed the waiter that he was from California and that I was from Utah and somehow he slipped it in there that we were LDS. Is he crazy? You don’t go advertising that you’re LDS when you’re out at a restaurant on a Sunday. Has no one ever taught him the concept of keeping the Sabbath holy? (wait for it, it gets better) He then proceeded to ask the waiter if they served non-alcoholic beer. They don't serve that kind of stuff in North Carolina! Everyone just drinks regular beer. Actually, do they serve that stuff anywhere?? I saw the look on the waiters face when he answered him and then he turned to take my drink order and looked more confused than anything because he could tell I was trying really hard not to laugh. I think the dinner conversation was probably the most horrific detail of the entire night. He was telling me stories of his mission and how both he and his brother were sent home early because their mission presidents ‘didn’t like them’ or were ‘intimidated by them’. Did he think I was an idiot? Seriously, that doesn’t happen unless you’re both preaching the same out there kinda concepts that don’t follow church doctrine or if you’ve both got authority issues. I’m thinking it was the former. I don't think I've ever scarfed down a meal so quickly in my life. I figured the benefits outweighed the consequences because he'd probably think I was a slob and a pig but in the end I think he assumed I just had a hardy appetite. But I had to do what I could to get out of there before he humiliated me in front of any other members of the staff.

Chapter Four: Homeward Bound

On the way out he started talking about this new movie that he wanted to go see (while he subtly pulled the breath spray out of his pocket). It was at that point that I realized that this was the date from hell and it was never going to end if I didn’t put a stop to it right then and there. At that very moment I knew without a doubt why God had made me the go-to-girl when Lauren broke her foot and needed help with her paper-route at 3am every morning for the last six weeks! It was so I’d have an excuse to get out of this awful date! I told him that it was just getting too late and I had to get home so that I’d be able to get up in the morning. After minimal begging he resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to try out his new yawn move in the theater and we headed back to my house. And that’s when my praying began. “Please, please, if there is a God, please let Brady be home and be sitting in the living room when we get there. Please. Seriously, please?” Apparently all of the begging worked but I was still prepared with my keys in my hand just in case he wasn’t visible through the window (and when I say “keys in my hand” I don’t mean to unlock the door, I mean sticking out between my fingers like the teach you in self-defense classes so I could gouge his eyes out if he tried to clean my tonsils with his tongue). I was out of that car and in the front room before he even had the engine shut off – but that can take a while when you have to do that with a screwdriver too (okay, so I made that last part up but the rest of the story is entirely true). Brady looked a little shell shocked when I came plowing through the door so hard I almost put a hole in the wall but when he saw who was following me he quickly understood. He looked almost constipated because was fighting so hard to keep in the laughter. (Thanks for you help, Brady. Appreciate it.) So after a little army chitchat between the boys I was finally able to get him out the door and deadbolt it behind him. Then I quickly shut all the blinds and turned off all the lights so if he came back I could pretend we weren’t home and then fell down laughing so hard I thought I was going to pass out. At the very least I can say that I don’t think things could ever get much worse.

Chapter Five: I Was Wrong

Monday September 15, 2003

Things didn’t get a lot worse, but they certainly didn’t end with Rick strutting out of my front door like he’d just won a blue ribbon at the fair. He freakin’ called me at 8:30 this morning! I run someone else’s stupid paper route at 3am every day so that she can support her family which gets me home around 6 so that I can sleep for another three hours before having to get up to go to my own job and he calls me to tell me that he’d had a “lovely” time last night. Some men are totally clueless. Then, begging for reaffirmation, he has the nerve to say, “I hope the feeling’s mutual.” I was so far beyond being pissed. He called me from Tina’s land line instead of his cell phone so I didn’t know it was him which only served to tick me off more because otherwise, you can guarantee I wouldn’t have answered. I was so dang close to not even saying hello and just ripping into who I thought was going to be Tina for giving him my number but then I thought better of it because I figured it was probably Gary that had given it to him and not her. Good thing I thought that one through first because that could have ended badly for Tina. He actually asked me out again too! He wants to get together again before he heads back to California but he's going to be out of town for the next couple days so he's thinking later in the week. I think I might just have a previously undiagnosed fatal illness. . . actually, I’m sure of it. Or maybe I've been exposed to some highly contageous disease that causes infertility in men and he'll have to avoid me. (Does something like that exist? I'll have to look it up later for future reference.) He obviously has issues and if I just tell him that I’m not interested he might just break into the house and try to boil my bunny or something. I’ve just got to get through the next week until he goes back to California and then I can change my phone number like I should have done the first time he called, you know, before he knew where I lived.

Epilogue

So you may have noticed the attached photo of the toddler sized teddy bear that goes along with this blog. Now while it would have made for a perfect ending if he'd given that to me on our tour of the underworld, that is not where it came from. A couple years ago I was attending a ward Valentines Day activity and they played a game of sorts and had everyone go around and tell their worst dating stories. Everyone was filled with angst and heartbreak about how their date left the dance with someone else, yada yada yada. While it took me a good ten minutes to tell this story (and I even left a lot of the details out) I still won the contest with an overwhelming vote and thus came home with the teddy bear. At least I got something out of it, right?


*names have been changed to protect the innocent, but not the names of those that you could guess anyway.