4. The Bear

Name:  The Bear

Where It All Began:  Online dating website (paid)

The Date:  I hate going on a first date on a Friday or Saturday night.  It’s a lot to gamble and risk wasting a portion of your precious weekend on a total stranger.  But because I don’t want the world to end having only been on three dates of the fifty I’ve promised to you and to myself, I agreed to meet The Bear at a pub for happy hour on Friday after work.

I walked in to the pub ten minutes late.  I am struggling to call this “fashionably late” as I was dressed in a tank top, cardigan, jeans, and dirty white Chucks.  The clothing was fine, especially considering I had spent the whole day in the field walking through dirt and weeds.  Still, I believe both parties should make an effort to dress like they care.  Half the reason I agree to these dates is because I finally have an excuse to wear the so-cute shoes I have piled at the bottom of my closet.  My self-consciousness over my footwear was magnified when I heard the clack-clack of The Bear’s cowboy boots on the wood planked floor of the pub.  Great, a guy in heels.  I tried to get over the disparity in our fashion choices as we sat down with our drinks.  We immediately started chatting about all the normal first date things: job, hobbies, background, education, etc.  When my drink was nothing but melted ice, The Bear offered a second drink and fetched it from the bar himself. 

A couple drinks and three and a half hours later, we both realized we were hungry and decided to go to dinner.  Because I had to run to make sure my car didn’t get locked in a parking garage (a lesson learned on my second date with Maverick) and because The Bear needed to replace his phone battery, we parted ways and agreed to meet at a restaurant.  I spent the next fifteen minutes wondering if the phone battery was just an excuse to get rid of me and my filthy shoes.  But then he walked around the corner in a completely different shirt and jacket than what he’d been wearing at the pub.  He explained that he had been cold, but I couldn’t see how this justified a mid-date wardrobe change. 

The restaurant that we wanted to go to was closed, so we walked to three or four other eateries only to find huge lines or closed doors.  I whipped out my phone to look up additional restaurants when The Bear uttered the following sentence: “I have food at my house, but I don’t want to creep you out, so I don’t know where to go at this point other than Del Taco.”  My heart stopped.  For those of you who don’t know me, know this: I LOVE Del Taco.  I will never turn down a free meal, especially at a fast food joint where you can order a burrito AND chili fries.  And chili fries I did order.  He apologized for taking me to Del Taco and made me promise to tell people that we went to some fancy Mexican place with a Spanish name I couldn’t pronounce.  Oops.

After a lovely dinner, I agreed to go with him and meet a few of his friends at a local dive bar.  As I shook the hands of four girls in dresses and a guy in a tie, The Bear verbalized what I had been thinking, “What the hell?  Why didn’t anyone tell me to dress up?!”  Apparently, the group had decided to go out and dress Mad Men style.  As I cursed my shoes for the third time that night, the group was moving toward the exit in search of a less crowded drinking establishment.  We found one and The Bear ordered a round of drinks for himself and the rest of his friends, saying that he felt bad for meeting up with them so late in the evening.  It’s always awkward meeting new people, but this group was fairly nice and even invited me to their Rapture party this weekend.

The evening ended seven hours after it had begun and overall, I’m not sorry I spent my Friday night amongst strangers.  I am sorry about the shoes, though. 

Deal-makers:

·         Cooks

·         Buys girls drinks

·         Likes Del Taco

·         Listens to country music and the Glee station on Pandora radio

Deal-breakers:

·         Is an MP (Mountain Person).  For additional information on this species, please refer to Mrs. Ninja’s blog: http://wifeofaninja.blogspot.com/

·         Has a compulsive need to check work email

·         Is short (so I guess it may have been a good thing I didn't wear heels)