I just had one of those dates where it’s very promising until it begins. The guy was cute and nice, so if that’s all one asks for he’d be the perfect catch. The more we talked the less interested I became.
Like I said, it was great from an appearance stand point. As we talked I noticed the pitch of his voice. My voice is far from deep and manly, but he sounds like he might actually be sitting on a dick. That was a tad annoying – and none too distracting. Then there were his stories, they weren’t terrible, but they weren’t really funny. This made me think it wasn’t worth the effort to pull out my best stories, which I didn’t, causing unnatural lulls in the conversation that were both dull and unpleasant.
He was also late. I give him credit for at least warning me of his lateness, but you shouldn’t be late with a Virgo, because true to form I was thirty minutes early. I was also on my second glass of wine by the time he showed up. To my surprise he only had one glass of wine, which I believe was truly to his displeasure. I selected a place that had a decent wine and beer selection because I knew he preferred beer. I’m not erasing my day at the gym for a beer, but that doesn’t mean you have to fake liking wine to please me. Though it doesn’t hurt – but drink the damn wine.
Where I really knew we were wasting our time was when a gay couple two tables over came into conversation. He said something about them and then my response was to add that one of them, likely the fat and unattractive one, was having an affair. My date became huffy, informing he doesn’t like to think of things that way. Really? You can shove optimism up your who-ha because everyone is out to get everyone else. I’ll probably eat those words one day if I am to date someone, but there’s still a good chance they’ll cheat on me, or me on them.
So, here we are again, home with a buzz and no one to play with.