Not So Perfect

I bet you guys want an update about my date with Mr. Perfect.

He was, alas, not perfect.

I had a perfectly great time.  He was perfectly normal.  Handsome.  A perfectly cool guy.  I think that may be my longest first date on record.  We went to a baseball game and then after that I did not turn into a pumpkin (as I normally would) and we went and got something to eat.  He was a perfect gentleman (he got my car door and he paid).  He didn’t meet all of my criteria, in fact, he didn’t meet two of my major three.  But, I had such a good time (we never ran out of things to talk about) that I was willing to overlook my list and try again.  He said he wanted to see me again.  We even talked about possibilities for this week.  But, as I write this on Wednesday night, exactly a week after, there has been perfect radio silence.  So, there you have it.  Easy come, easy go.

A perfectly ordinary dating story…  The dude didn’t call, and I have no idea why.*  After last weeks’ post, though, he will join the Spitter  in the ranks of the Attribute Men (whose names I don’t remember) as “Mr. Perfect.”

*At least he didn’t kiss me.  There was the one guy last fall, The Kisser, who, on a first (online) date (which made this seem forward), kissed me, told me he wanted to see me again, complimented me on my beauty and the fact that I smelled amazing, and then I never heard from him again.  And he blocked me on the online dating site that I met him on.  I thought, “Huh.  Did I drive away weird?"

Mr. Perfect

I called it off for good with the Boyfriend a couple of months ago, and I’ve written a couple of posts about it, but I subscribe to the Thumper rule of blogging: if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.  So, I haven’t posted on here in awhile.

Tonight I have a date.  It’s a set-up, which doesn’t happen very often, so I know almost nothing about him, except that he’s safe, since my friends have vetted him.  (No friends are going to set me up with a serial killer.  Hopefully.)

Most of the dates that I go on are with men that I’ve met online.  With them, I know what they want me to know, from our few online conversations, sometimes from phone conversations, and from their carefully crafted online profiles.

This guy, though, is a perfect stranger.  I’ll meet him in a couple of hours and he’ll become a reality, but for now, he’s perfect.  He is attractive (I’ve seen his Facebook photos).  And other than the few things that my friends told me about him (and I can ignore whatever parts are less than favorable if they dont fit into the fantasy since it's my fantasy, after all) I know very little.  So, I’ve been able to craft my own image of him.  I have a fantasy about who he’ll be and since I'm fantasizing, why not make him, well, perfect?  I almost don’t want to meet him.

Tomorrow, either he’ll be some less than perfect version of reality (they never can be exactly what we dream they’ll be), or he’ll fade into the list of men that I’ve gone out with once that no longer even have names, and are just remembered by their strongest attribute (The Short Guy.  The Stutterer.  The Slurper.  Or, like the last train wreck from a couple of weeks ago, The Spitter.  He spit on me no less than 5 times during our conversation, I lost track.).

I don't really have my hopes up.  But it's been a fun few hours, with it an unknown, it could just workout, you know?

Wish me luck with Mr. Perfect.