Life Is A Dumpster Fire

Approximately ten years ago, I took my first foray into online dating. We exchanged messages, and he seemed like a nice enough guy. We had several things in common, at least on screen.

The first date was set for a coffee house that served alcohol in the evening. We met inside, and the first thing I noticed was that he may have exaggerated his height. His profile said 5’6, and he couldn’t have been over 5’4. I should say that he was oddly proportional except for his head. We found a table outside after ordering drinks. The following 45 minutes felt like an interrogation alternating questions with him telling me how awesome he was because he was a vegan. He was wearing leather shoes………

There were no waitresses, and when he got up to get something, he didn’t ask if I wanted anything.  When he got up, he just said I’ll be right back and returned with a drink. The date proceeds along the line of the interrogation, for which I let him know this is what it was feeling like. Somewhere during the interrogation, the subject turned to having children. My daughter was 15 then, and I wasn’t interested in having children. My dating bio’s “About Me” section predominantly addressed this. He kept explaining that I wanted to have kids; I just didn’t know it. I’m sure that I would know my mind. Finally, he said I was designed to have babies because my hips were wide. I just needed to meet the right man. I never clarified if he was implying a man in general or if he thought he would be the right father for my future prodigy.

At this point, I brought the date to an end. He walked me to my car. It had already been so awkward for me, and I honestly didn’t think this man had enough perception to read the room. He went in for a hug; only he felt he should be the one to hug but remember the height deficit. So essentially, here I am with this little person wrapped around me like a vise, my arms plastered to my side. He then tried to kiss me but needed a slight bounce to reach my lips. I managed to turn my head just in time, and he kissed my cheek.

We never went out again. I received an e-mail weeks later telling me we wouldn’t go out again because he had met someone. This was three weeks later. I don’t think he realized I would never talk to him again.

The date highlighted so many things that I have learned along the way: Men lie about their height and never read the profile.