8. Mr. Officer

Name:  Mr. Officer (He’s a part-time sheriff’s deputy who works for free on weekends arresting drunken boaters and other assorted river rats.)

Where It All Began: Internet Dating Website (free)

The Date:  I was supposed to have three first dates last week.  Two of those dates fell through on account of the fact that some guys are, well, guys.  You already know the story of Robin Hood and understand why I took myself out of the running to be Lady of Sherwood Forest.  The other date was supposed to be with a firefighter who is terrible at texting, even though he claims it as his favorite form of communication.  Sigh.   Whatever.  Lots of people are telling me to just date The Bear and only The Bear.  I am only opposed to this idea when I think I’ve found someone equally as compatible, if not, more so than The Bear.  Enter Mr. Officer (this particular nickname makes me think of the following song, if for no other reason than that the simulated siren sound is so catchy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b9xp0o8RnuM).  This guy seemed like the complete package.  According to my online dating profiles, I am looking for someone that has a job (he has two!), a car (he has a sporty one, not a truck, but it goes fast), doesn’t live with his mama (check!), and has a dog (coincidentally, the dog’s name is Bear).

We met up at a bar/restaurant on one of the rivers that surround this beautiful shithole they call a city.  I’ve only lived in the area for about a year and have been spoiled by my parents having a house on a river about an hour away.  Therefore, I had no idea there existed this culture built entirely around boating.  Mr. Officer explained this to me as we sat riverside and watched boat after boat dock only a few feet from our table.  He told me that he spends weekends on the sheriff’s boat pulling over drunken douche bags.  I was fascinated.  Stories involving alcohol, douche baggery, and which star a cast of characters dressed in Affliction t-shirts are right up my Jersey Shore-loving alley.  (Ok, I’ve seen like four episodes of Jersey Shore, but my in-depth study leads me to conclude that too many hours in a tanning bed combined with Ron-Ron Juice does not a productive member of society make.)  As the stories continued, I started to tune out and spent most of my time observing the boaters, wondering why so many middle-aged men spend so much money on boats if they’re just going to sit at the dock all day and all night.  Then I noticed an inordinate amount of Botox and silicone pressed up against said boats and all the pieces fell into place.  When it was my turn to talk, I was asked about seven million questions about my dog.  After a drink and an appetizer, I found myself getting steadily less interested in Mr. Officer.  I don’t know what it was, but I was very conscious of my dissipating feelings of like and attraction.  This isn’t a commentary on Mr. Officer as a person.  As I mentioned, he is a complete package.  He was nice, he was gentlemanly, he was good looking.  Blah, blah, blah.  Maybe it was simply that I wasn’t that into the guy.  I wouldn’t call this a bad date, but as you can tell, I don’t have anything ridiculous or hilarious to share.

Deal-makers:

·     Job

·         Car

·         House

·         Dog

Deal-breakers:

·         Works a lot.

·         I can’t figure it out!

Would I Date Him Again?  I guess I wouldn’t say no.  I'd say everyone deserves a second chance, but that would negate what I said about Robin Hood...

7. Robin Hood

Name: Robin Hood (He lives in the Sherwood Forest.  No, seriously, that’s the name of the tract/community/development.)

Where It All Began: He is the brother of my cousin’s husband (I’ll wait while you get a calculator and a map of Arkansas to figure that out…)

The Date:  Robin Hood was one of the people I knew I could count as one of my fifty dates before this blog was ever published.  We have met multiple times at family events and as far as I could tell, he seemed like good people.  Every now and then, Mrs. Ninja (his sister-in-law/my cousin) would tell me some ridiculous story about Robin Hood.  He has a son , the by-product of which is of course, a crazy ex-girlfriend who he will never be rid of.  I had also heard about his jealousy issues (over things his brother has, not necessarily being a jealous boyfriend), his strong desire to get married and have a family, and so on.  None of the stories I had been told were bad enough to make me think negatively of Robin Hood.  I had always known him to be funny, somewhat charming, and even kind of cute.  Every time we met up, it was usually in the company of the Ninjas, so eventually we made plans to hang out one on one.  On multiple occasions, either he or I cancelled the plans.  These cancellations were never a big deal and usually occurred days in advance.

This past weekend, I received a text message from Robin Hood with a photo attached showing off some delicious looking homemade meal he prepared himself.  I jokingly asked when he was going to invite me over for dinner and a movie.  He responded and we made plans to do dinner and a movie at his house.  I reluctantly agreed to make the one hour journey to the Sherwood Forest in hopes of finally hanging out with Robin Hood and being able to count it toward my goal of fifty first dates.  A day before the date, he asked if we could push the start time from 7:00 pm to 8:00 pm because he wanted to work out with some buddies.  Ok, fine.  That would give me more time to get ready, make the fruit salad I had promised, stop to get Justin Bieber’s Never Say Never on DVD, and embark on my trek.  Fast forward to 8:00 pm when I sent a quick text message to let Robin Hood know I’d be about 10 minutes late.  The Sherwood Forest is far far away from my house and I needed the extra time to navigate the wilderness.  I pulled into his driveway at 8:10 pm only to notice the absence of his truck.  I shrugged it off and knocked on the front door.  Peering into the open windows, I could see all the way through the house.  Piles of laundry mounded on the couch, lights on in the kitchen, and his dog going insane in the backyard.  Surely, he was home.  After a few minutes of repeated knocking, I placed a call to Robin Hood.  Maybe he was in the backyard firing up the grill?  No answer.  I wandered around a bit and started thinking that maybe something had happened to his son or that he had run to his parents’ house down the street for a cup of sugar.  I waited a total of 15 minutes before getting back in my car.  I decided that because my parents live about 10 minutes away, I’d pop in and see if they’d feed me dinner considering mine was M.I.A.  As I was driving, I called Mrs. Ninja in a fit of rage, but at the same time, my caller ID informed me that Robin Hood was trying to reach me.  I answered, “Yes.  Hello.”

“Hey, where are you?”

“Driving to my parents’ house for dinner.”

“I’ll be home in a few, we decided to run four extra miles, so turn around.”

“I’m pissed.  I’ve been at your house for 15 minutes.”

“Yeah, well it was only 15 minutes, you can still turn around.”

“Next time.”

“Well, it really isn’t that big of a deal…”

“Yeah, if I had been there at 8, I would have been waiting for 30 minutes before getting this call.”

“You’re mad?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.  Well, we’ll hang out next time.”

Click.

I ended up at my parents’ house just in time for them to throw an extra burger on the barbeque.  My date with them was fantastic.  Definitely wasn’t a first date as I’ve had more dinners with them than with any other human beings, but still pleasant.  After dinner, I drove an hour back home and collapsed in bed, still angry.  This morning, I ate the fruit salad for breakfast.  It was scrumptious.

Deal-makers:

·         None.  This is an unforgiveable offense.  Acting like a total douche overshadows any positive qualities he may possess.

Deal-breakers:

·         Is totally non-committal.  It took months to actually schedule this date because apparently it is absurd to plan your Saturday on Tuesday.

·         Has a child; therefore, also has baby mama drama.

·         Would rather run four extra miles than hang out with me.

·         Doesn’t know how to answer phone calls, text messages, or doors.

Would I Date Him Again?  Nope.  We didn’t date before.  We didn’t date last night.  We won’t date in the future.

Oh, and this counts as a date given my investment of time, effort, emotion and the fact that I wasted a so-cute brand new shirt on nothing.

6. Wings

Name: Wings (because this is what Red Bull gives you… I’ll explain in a minute)

Where It All Began: Internet Dating Website (free)

The Date:  Because my prospects on the paid internet dating website seem to be dwindling, I decided to join a free dating site.  Also, I’d like to conduct a little social experiment in which I date guys from both paid and free sites to determine whether or not you really do “get what you pay for.”  So far, the biggest advantage of the free site (aside from the fact that I didn’t have to enter my credit card number) is the willingness of men to freely contact you via email with an invitation to meet up or at least start exchanging text messages.  My friends know that I’m basically a text message whore when it comes to communication with the opposite sex.  No, I don’t exchange dirty messages or photos.  That’s what politicians do.  I simply prefer this as a method of communication with men because most of them cannot seem to string words together in order to hold a proper conversation for longer than three minutes.  This is understandable given the NBA Playoffs, work schedules, dating multiple women at the same time, and the fact that they’re dudes (it’s electronic, it’s short, it’s easy, it’s instantaneous).  Texting eliminates the annoying and often delayed and drawn-out email exchanges that are often critical to online dating.

Now, how does all that relate to Wings?  Simple: after two emails, he sent me his phone number asking to text.  We exchanged texts for less than a week before deciding to meet up.  We met at a restaurant/bar for Happy Hour.  With great joy at the prospect of returning to a pattern of having an adult beverage on a first date, I deviated from the Happy Hour menu and ordered a mojito.  I don’t know if that’s what prompted the thirty minute discussion about the Happy Hour menu and the fact that it was so cheap and such a good deal, but that’s the conversation that ensued.  And by conversation, I mean monologue.  Don’t get me wrong, the guy was extremely nice and is good at talking without boring a girl, but I probably spoke one word for every ten of his.  As I was beginning to wonder whether his chattiness was a product of nerves or nature, he began to tell me about what he’d eaten that day.  Salad as a snack a few hours earlier and a Red Bull not long after as an afternoon pick-me-up.  No wonder he couldn’t shut up, he was all jacked up on caffeine.

I continued to use my listening skills as I snacked on appetizers and what had to be the strongest mojito ever poured.  He skipped along, telling one story after another until he had to pee.  When he excused himself to the bathroom, I whipped out my phone to see that my sister, Casper, had texted me about Justin Bieber and that it was also 9:30 pm.  I quickly typed a message back to Casper ensuring her that I would enter the radio station contest for the Bieb tickets.  I hit send and Wings had returned to the table announcing that three and a half hours had somehow gotten away from him and that he needed to let his dog out (or in, I can’t remember, even though the caffeine had worn off a little, the words were frantic and my temperature was rising due to the phenomenon known as Bieber Fever).  We walked outside and he noticed that I had kicked a dollar bill.  He picked it up and asked if it was mine.  It looked just like all my other dollars, so I claimed it.  I then walked him to his truck and we hugged goodbye and made half-assed plans to hang out at a baseball game over the weekend.  My car was parked in the next parking lot, which happened to be reserved for a funeral home, but was also the closest spot I could find as the restaurant lot was full.  I felt simultaneously annoyed and creeped out that he hadn’t offered to walk me to my car, especially when I could have been kidnapped by ghosts.  I climbed into the driver’s seat and noticed that there was a twenty dollar bill on the seat.  Either I crap money or the $21 I made that night were already mine.

Deal-makers:

·         Has hot friends.  (I’ve seen photos and I’ve made a note of this because I still need to meet 44 other dudes.)

·         Won’t ever run out of anything to say.

·         Is the human version of Yelp when it comes to bars, restaurants, and recreational activities in the area.

·         Drives a truck.

·         Went to college.  (This one’s for you, Hate.)

Deal-breakers:

·         Won’t ever run out of anything to say.

·         Overused the words “money” and “success.”  It’s nice that you have these, but I’m only maybe mildly impressed.

·         Says his dog doesn’t like other dogs or other people.  Dogs love me, but this makes me want to study up on my Cesar Milan in the event there are multiple dates.

·         Drives a white truck. (Some of my friends and family may know that on a list I created in high school describing the ideal man, it was imperative for my date/boyfriend/husband/baby daddy to drive a red or black truck.)

·         Didn’t walk me to my car.

Would I Date Him Again?  Probably.  This way, he might be able to learn a thing or two about me.

5. The Bachelor

Name:  The Bachelor (Read the “Where It All Began” section below.  I will mention here that The Bachelor is not the groom for whom the bachelor party was thrown.  Also, if ever I refer to “The Bachelor” in quotation marks, I’m definitely referencing the reality television series that is responsible for more broken hearts than there were the day N*Sync broke up.)

Where It All Began:  My friend Hate’s boyfriend, The Starfish, went to a bachelor party and sent a blurry photo via text of one of the single guys asking for permission to pass out my phone number.  Within fifteen minutes, The Bachelor texted me and began a text marathon that lasted the duration of the three day bachelor party extravaganza.

The Date:  I have been sick off and on with every variety of cold and flu known to man.  For the past week, I’ve been “on” with sickness.  When The Bachelor asked me to dinner a few days ago, I was reluctant to agree.  How much fun is a meal shared with a diseased girl coughing in the bread basket?  But I’m in no position to refuse a first date.  So I covered my sickness with make-up and a smile and headed to the local neighborhood Chili’s.  Before you get all crazy and start judging the boy’s restaurant choice, just remember that I’m the same girl who was beyond excited to go to Del Taco with The Bear.

I arrived to Chili’s much more fashionably dressed than required for such an establishment; however given my previous first date attire, I figured I should make a more solid attempt at looking like I can afford shoes.  When I walked in, I was greeted with a hug and immediately noticed that The Bachelor definitely works out.  Swoon.  We chose to sit at the bar and spent two hours not drinking.  I just realized that I have not gone on a dry first date in many moons and here’s why: booze is the best social lubricant.  Unless the daters are already acquainted, it is very likely that there will be some level of awkwardness.  Alcohol helps bridge these gaps by allowing people the opportunity to relax.

Of all my dates thus far, this one was the least remarkable.  Here’s a synopsis: queso, water, giggling, stories about car accidents and work, soup, salad, fried cheese, NBA Finals on TV, he paid the bill.  I’m not complaining about The Bachelor and maybe it’s because I’ve been sick, but the date was just all right.  

Deal-makers:

·         Has a nice body

·         Has a job, a car, and a dog

·         Divulged bachelor party secrets

Deal-breakers:

·         I’m pretty sure he lives with his mom

·         Talks a lot about work

·         Is in love with his car, whose name is Veronica.  No, seriously, he told me any girl he dated would be number two after Veronica.

Would I Date Him Again?  Sure, why not?