2. Maverick

Name:  Maverick

Where It All Began:  Internet dating website (paid)

The Date: Sigh.  I’ve been on this internet dating website for a little over a week sifting through the city’s most eligible bachelors hoping to find a decent specimen worthy of my time.  Various individuals have contacted me, most of which I think should be behind bars (either for pedophilia or as zoo exhibits).  See the “Like I Really Would” section on the right hand side of this blog for further details on people I refuse to date.  That said, it surprised me when an attractive young man with dark hair, green eyes, and an affinity for tropical vacations emailed me with direct responses to things mentioned in my profile (swoon!).  His emails were funny, and though he misspelled a few words, he also came off as smart.  A few text messages later, I agreed to go out with him on Thursday.  Tuesday rolled around and as I was making my weekly visit to the local Target to see what unnecessary trinkets I could waste money on, I received a text from Maverick.  Apparently his adult kickball league practice had been cancelled and he was suddenly available for the evening.  First of all, I thought adult kickball was just an excuse to drink beer while simultaneously “exercising,” so I’m not sure what to make of this alleged “practice.”  Second of all, would accepting a last-minute date be a rookie mistake?  I really didn’t need those spring themed dishtowels from the Dollar Spot and my only other plan for the evening involved me and the newest episode of Glee.  Wouldn’t a first date would be a better way to spend a Tuesday evening?  I thought so.  

Two hours later, I casually walk up to the outdoor patio at a bar downtown and find Maverick.  He’s half a gin and tonic ahead of me, but it takes about fifteen minutes to flag down a waitress.  Another fifteen minutes pass before I get my mojito, during which the two of us make small talk and ogle the next table’s brownie.  The sweet minty freshness of the mojito eases some of the awkward first date conversation.  He makes a few jokes, but doesn’t appear as funny or as confident as the emails and text messages had suggested.  Maybe he’s shy?  I finally get to the bottom of my mojito and Maverick suggests going down the street to a different bar.  I agree.  At this point, Maverick tries to get the waitress’ attention.  The following is a transcript of the interaction:

            Maverick: Excuse me, ma’am… Ma’am… … … MA’AM!
          Ma’am: I’m sorry…
            Nosy girl at the next table: She’s not a MA’AM, its Miss!
            Ma’am: Hi, sorry, I didn’t… my name is Tori…
            Me: (sitting, observing)
            Maverick: (mad mugging Nosy)
            Nosy’s boyfriend: (looking panicked)
            Me: (sitting in stunned silenced, heart rate begins to increase)
            Maverick: I’d like to close my tab…
            Ma’am: The name on the card?
            Maverick: (mad mugging Nosy with a very intense green stare)
            Me: (THIS this is why I have decided to blog about this entire experience!)
            Ma’am: The card?
            Nosy: (mumbles something)
            Maverick: (death stare, round three)

 Me: (looking straight at Maverick) Just don’t… (looking up at ma’am with a forced smile) The  name is Maverick.

            Maverick: (breaks death stare to long enough to mutter) Sorry, yes, Maverick.

We awkwardly sit in silence as Ma’am goes to fetch the bill and card.  The table Nosy and her boyfriend are sitting at is about a foot away from ours and I wonder how long it will take to install bulletproof glass.  Maverick and I pretend to make conversation, something about peanut butter or the weather.  I want to run away for fear someone will get hurt and it will probably be Maverick and I don’t know how I feel about cleaning up the blood of a guy I just met and am not sure I even like.  An eternity passes, but finally we make our way down the street and he attempts to explain himself and his actions.  I agree that Nosy should have said nothing, but he shouldn’t have raised his voice or tried to shoot lasers from his eyes.  I also explain that “ma’am” isn’t always the best way to address a young lady.  This part of the conversation is lost on him as he is from the East Coast and doesn’t speak California.

We enter the second bar, order another round of drinks, make small talk with a couple of people at the bar, then sit down in a little cubby hole that contains a couch and a TV.  Maverick suddenly seems at ease.  I start to wonder if he takes medication for bipolar disorder or if the incident I witnessed twenty minutes before was just a fluke.  We chat and all seems to go smoothly.  I make hilarious jokes, he laughs.  He makes not-as-hilarious jokes, I kind of giggle.  Then, because it’s a school night, we end the date just before 10:00 p.m.  He walks me to my car, like a gentleman.  He gives me the shortest kiss goodnight.  I let him, because I’m nice and more importantly, I don’t want to turn to stone.  (My mother is probably reading this, so Hi, Mom!)  He asks me if we are still on for Thursday and I say, “Sure.”

When I get home, I see that Maverick has texted me.  We exchange a few texts and I’m just about asleep when the phone goes off and I get a text asking me if the jokes I make about being ghetto are serious or just playful humor.  A lot of what I said during the date was funny.  He laughed!  Now, I feel like he’s accusing me of putting on some kind of act or being someone I’m not.  I’m offended, so I just go to sleep wondering if I should weasel my way out of the Thursday date or if I should give him a second chance.

Deal-makers:

·       Likes peanut butter

·         Has a charming, somewhat Southern accent

·         Knows the importance of color coordinating his shower curtain and his comforter

·         Was honest in his inability to distinguish between sarcasm and seriousness

Deal-breakers:

·        His looks can kill

·        Thinks I’m ghetto

·         May or may not have a toolbox

·         Isn’t able to distinguish between sarcasm and seriousness