Poor Date 8

First, the disclaimer. Remember that as a blogger I am working through things here on the internet rather than in the privacy of a journal. Some of this is just me trying to get it all together and think through my issues. (It just so happens there is a small select group of you that get to be a part of my verbal barf. Lucky, lucky, you.)

Disclaimer part deux. Date 8 is a nice guy. He is absolutely trying to show his best manners and pull out the stops. Now, whether he is pulling out the stops to impress me because I'm amazing (ha) or because he wants to do the horizontal tango or both, I don't know, but I do recognize that this is the one people will bring up saying, "Remember that nice boy you blew off just because. You could have been married, but nooo, you are so picky." (Please say with a Jewish accent, much funnier.)

Monday night we went to the Fox & the Hound Pub. First, I am delighted to say the precious girls at the front desk CARDED ME. My face clearly showed my pleasure and excitement at needing to fish it out. After seeing it, they informed me, "Oh, well, you look really young." I like that place!

I will give him points in that he seems to be determined to arrive places ahead of me and have the cosmo ordered. Chivalry or an intense desire to get me drunk? Hard to say, hard to say.

At any rate, turns out he is a bit of a pool shark, so I had to concentrate mightily to not embarrass myself. That meant that we didn't talk that much, but it also led me to realize that we don't actually have that much to say. (Worrisome issue to discuss later.)

He called Tuesday night AND Wednesday night at 9:45. Tuesday I answered the phone and gave him the "Oh, my, you are calling late." He didn't take the hint too well because he kept talking and then called the next night at the EXACT same time. Grrrr.

So, last night was King Tut at the DMA. We were meeting at 7. I got a text message at 6:30 saying, "Not sure where you are. I'm on East side of building next to Tut ticket booth." Not sure of where I am?? Are you kidding? I'm either at home or on my way, but it is 6 freaking 30. Breathe. Breathe.

His desire to be places ahead of me has now moved into totally annoying, especially since on our first meeting he told me he is usually on time, so this isn't a deal where he is always early, he is now determined to be early to be ahead of me. So, fine, send a text that says I'm early and here is where I am. Don't start with where are you. Set. My. Teeth. On. Edge.

So, as my friend KT can attest, I was cranky well before my arrival at the DMA. What can I say, in the last two weeks I have had ONE night to myself. Every time I have a free night, he'd ask me out, and that is great, not his fault, but I imagine he has lots of free nights and then goes out every once in a while and I'm exhausted because I can't catch a break . . .all this to say, I have reached crank status. Yes, many of you are making faces because you have dealt with crank status, and it's not pretty.

At any rate, King Tut doesn't really invite conversation either because it is very, very quiet. No one is talking. We work our way through and get out at about 8pm. He turns and asks me if I want to get something to eat. "No," I say, "I have eaten because I would have died if I had to wait until now to eat." And then I went into my song and dance about left to my own devices I would eat by 5 and be in bed by 9 and oh, by the way, please don't call after 9 again.

So, trying to be polite, I say, "Shall we find someplace to eat for you to get something." Great he says. . . the only problem is that there are NO places downtown (except really expensive restaurants), so he wants to suggest a sit down place near me, but it is after 8 and I've just explained my need for sleep. Argghhh.

Ok, so he walks me to my car, I drive him to his, and he hightails it out of my car fairly quickly. Bless his heart. I wasn't wretched, just a wee snippy.

I am worried about the fact we don't really have much to say. I asked him about his day and he said, "I was really busy." "Oh, what were you doing." "Purchase orders." What do I say to that?? As we were leaving the museum, he asked me about my schedule and I started rattling off what I have coming up which ends with the trip to Europe when school gets out. His response was "and then school starts back up"????? Um, no I'm only gone two weeks.

His response? "Oh, well, if I ever get to go to Europe I would go for as long as possible." huh. There are so many things wrong with this statement. Oh well, yes, I know I am just picking on him at this point.

Late Friday he sent me an email:

Dear Diva, I had a good time at Tut with you last night.Those were interesting artifacts. I think we need to take time and talk about our schedule. I know you will be on the road soon so pls call sometime this weekend when you think about it . Have a safe trip! Date 8

Our schedule? Really? Cause I'm thinking only one of us really has a schedule to keep track of here, the other one isn't doing jack shit most evenings. . . but that's just me guessing. Could be wrong. It's happened before.

So, now I've got to figure out what I'm going to do about 8. I guess I'll call him Sunday. It's not like I can see him in the next 2 weeks, because I am literally busier than a nickle ho on payday.