Thursday, February 15, 2007

Pod People.


That is what comes to mind.
White breaded
regularly shaped

I don't believe I've ever met anyone so singularly unreadable and passionless.

Fifteen minutes or so into the coffee date, I say, "Well, this is certainly feeling very weird and awkward."
"Well, generally I find it easy to get some sense of who a person is within a few minutes. I'm just not getting anything like that."
"This is just to meet. To see if the person is real."
"If they look like their picture. If they seem like their profile."
"So, how am I doing?"
"You look like your picture. You seem honest."

I can't quite convey the lack of expression, the complete absence of emotion.

He asks if I'm Christian. No. Grasping at straws, I say, "Your profile says you're Catholic."
"I'm not trying to convert you," he replies, "it's important to me but that's personal." This is as close to emotional as it gets. Paranoia and defensiveness.

God (excuse the expression) forbid we be personal.

Another desperate crumb picked from his meagre profile. "So, you were married?"
"Yes. Sometimes these things don't work out." No kidding, chum.
"Yes." Please! Don't flood me with information like that.
"Do you see them often?"
"What ages?"

Financial planner. "Successful" his ad reads. Matter of opinion, boyo.

So why, dear friends, you may be asking yourself, did I agree to meet Mr. Fishstick for coffee?

Well, because no matter how loud my instincts scream that nothing is going on, my ever-present left brain accepts the logic he's presented, which is:

He is ambivalent about the Internet. He believes that meeting in person is the best way to establish whether there are any like interests or connections. Hell, I'm all for that. And I'm in agreement with the idea that addresses and last names need not be exchanged at first. I'm in agreement until he says it for the third time and I want to blurt out, "Please. I don't even want to know your first name."

We won't discuss my reactions to a cell phone being pulled out.

The other reason I'm on this ill-fated but terribly safe little expedition is that someone really interesting failed to call back at the time he said he would and this was beginning to feel entirely too familiar. I've come to the F*ck You stage about that now. The defiant, chin-out, I-Am-Better-Than-That-How-Dare-You stage.

But really, I didn't think fishsticks would be the result.

Ain't love grand?

And if ONE of you say anything like, "Maybe he's shy," I'm going to make Darkmind a happy man and discuss serving you with tartar sauce.

And MF? If you're reading this...I told you I'd at least get a story out of it.


Teri said...

I really enjoyed this! I laughed out loud at:

No kidding, chum.

That just struck me so funny.

You're brave. :)

Koru's Daughter said...

I'm confused. If he is in a pod, then he is a whale, not a fish. Fish gather into schools.

Didn't the words "Financial planner. Successful." tip you off? It looks like you walked staight into this one.

Seriously, you blew me off for a suit? A bland gray suit? Next call, you have to talk to my cat to make up for this one.

Please, no tartar sauce. I would like to be serves with a spicy apricot glaze.

Darkmind said...

With hand pressed over his heart and bottom lip quivering ever so slightly, Darkmind sits at his computer in breathless awe and gratitude for LJ's cannibalism reference. Then, composing himself says aloud,
"If she's going to be serving human flesh, I would take KD's advice. Apricot or peach would be excellent, or perhaps apple sauce or orange marmelade. The flavor is closer to pork, so she should really sauce accordingly. Tartar is not really an ideal choi..."
He pauses for a moment, then says,
"Who am I talking to?"

LJ said...

See Teri? Never a waste of time if you get a story.
Ok, KD - You are a far superior date, hands down.
D? That was priceless.

jess said...

Don't forget the fine Chianti...


...still ROFL...

...OMG, still ROFL...

Anonymous said...

A young friend of mine, who is travelling in New Zealand, e-mailed to announce she has fallen in love. The subject of her passion is called tim-tam. An exotic local male? Not exactly.

"...rectangular in shape, chocolatey inside, cookie, chocolately outside. you bite a small corner, and another on the diagonal. you sip a steamy coffee through the cook, and the second it hits your lips you pull away, and bite the end--holy cow it is the most incredible experience you will ever have... i've decided to change my flight so me and the tim-tams can be together longer."

My reply was that cookies are much better than boys, because they never leave the seat up, never expect you to pick up after them, are always sweet, and (theoretically at least) you can have a whole bunch at once without anyone looking at you funny.

She was kidding about the flight.

So, LJ, there are my few words of support. Failing a cross-hemisphere romance with baked goods, there's always beer, beans and Viking songs. Which, in my opinion, are also way more fun than boys.


beadbabe49 said...

oh, goody! we get to give you dating advice!
as for eating the bad dates, I'd have to turn thumbs down on that one...they probably wouldn't taste good either, regardless of what sauce you put on 'em....
(this reminds me of the ending of the cult classic, A Boy and his Dog...)
anyway...I totally have to agree with KD...warning signs were in place and you walked in anyway!

herhimnbryn said...

lj, I never did like fish sticks and this one sounds decidedly fishy. Walking away was the way to go.

Darkmind said...

Yes HQ, but cookies ignore you when you talk to them, make you self conscious about your weight, never remember your anniversary, are not supportive of your interests, leave crumbs everywhere and never clean them up, give you high blood pressure, and get dry and stale the longer you hang out with them. You may be tempted while looking at them, and they are briefly sweet to you, but then they just turn to shit and you have to move on to the next.

Have I milked the metaphors enough? BWA HA HA HA!!

Anonymous said...

But Darkmind... you don't have to shave your legs or dress up, and you can stop in the middle if you get bored and nobody gets upset.

(I mean the generic "you," I don't imagine super villains such as yourself shave their legs.)

But the big bonus is you can eat them without sauce, and there are no bones to dispose of.

Oh, did I type that out loud?

Hmm, maybe I should return to hiding. I'm not sure LJ will appreciate two gleefully warped individuals chewing up her webspace. Or her cookies. Or unsuitable suitors.


LJ said...

You guys are killing me. I'm sitting here laughing so hard I can barely type.

Oh god. The blogging world's class of people is SO superior to the dating world!

zhoen said...

All a matter of which fishstick. Got some great ones from Trader Joe's.

Dating is the worst way to find love.

Now, see, I'd recommend my method. Go someplace with 400 people, half and half gender-wise, bore them, don't let them leave, and the one person you still like and can talk with after six months, after sleep deprivation and irregular showers and meals, is the one for you.

Ariel said...

What a dork that guy is! Sounded like a right cardboard cut out and you are so... polite and patient. How admirable! I'd have walked out in style, probably with a spectacular put down.

Minor Deity said...

Maybe he's shy. ;)

*runs away laughing evilly*

LJ said...

Zhoen...that's a great idea but I don't think they'd let me sign up and besides, there's that little might-send-me-to-war issue. Ariel, having read your blog darlin', I have NO doubt you would have. I think shock had me. After 15 minutes, I did say (aloud)"Well now, this is VERY weird and awkard, isn't it?" Usually, I just think that to myself.
MD...think applesauce.

Edvard Moonke said...

Hello LJ,

It's only when I read great stuff like this that I realise how limited I am... brilliant stuff!

LJ said...

Naw. Shucks. Ain't nothin', Edvard.
Bad dates are great fodder, don't you think? And your writing is terrific!