Dating

Lola: Back in the deep end of online dating

So I had four dates yesterday.

Not speed dates, actual dates, ones where you sit and converse for an hour or more over beverages, lunch or dinner.

I’m fairly exhausted from it, but yet I have two dates set up for today. When I decide to date, I throw myself in with gusto, which is how I do pretty much everything in life.

The first date was with Tristan, for lunch. A date on which he met the parents, so that was pretty major for me.

After he departed, I met up with Christian for a couple of beers. (he’s the hottie whom I had my first date with in church). I had trouble leaving him, because he really looked so fine, and he was looking at me like I was delicious too, but I had the day booked, so off I went, to meet “Online Joe” for a virtual date.

Joe was an ass. He talked non stop about himself, sucked down two beers in 20 minutes and then abruptly stood up and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

I was thankful, given the fact that I had zero interest in him. So we are walking down the hallway of the restaurant towards the parking lot when out of nowhere he grabs me, pushes me up against the wall and shoves his tongue down my throat. That’s exactly what happened, there was no warning whatsoever. Before I could even react, he’s got his hands all up in my hair and he’s basically mauling me. I am like. “WHOA, man, that’s not something that happens every day.” He gazes down at me and says happily: “Well, I kinda like you.” As if that’s supposed to make me feel like I’ve won the lottery or something.

So I manage to get him outside by our cars (it’s raining), and the following conversation takes place.

Joe: so what are we going to do?

Lola: (incredulously) I don’t know, I thought you were leaving, you didn’t plan this out before we got out in the rain?

Joe: I want to go back to your house.

Lola: That’s not going to happen, I’ve had too much trouble with stalkers in the past. (getting drenched) I think I’m just going to go.

Joe: (stricken) Oh no! Let’s discuss this in your car.

Lola: (getting in) Ok, that’s fine, let’s discuss it.

Joe gets in and starts shifting around, looking into the backseat and back at me devilishly.

Joe: Let’s get in the back seat then.

Oh for the love of God. This is precisely why I hate dating younger men, they are idiots. (he’s 32, old enough to know better than this though).

Lola: (laughing slightly) Let’s not and say we did.

The next thing I knew, he dove into the back seat where he perched expectantly.

Joe: I’m not leaving until you come back here and join me.

Lola: Well, you’re going to have a long wait then.

FINALLY, after what seemed like an eternity, he snapped out of it and said, “Ok, fine. Let’s go have another beer at another bar.”

I didn’t know what to do at this point, but I knew he had a dinner engagement so it would be a short drink. I sucked it up and said, fine.

Off we went to the next destination. When we arrived at the bar, I went into the restroom to collect myself, and texted Elle to tell her I was on the date from hell.

When I came out to find him I almost fainted. There he was sitting in a booth behind my previous date, Christian.

Well, this is awkward, I thought, totally horrified at my circumstances. Christian and I made eye contact and he seemed surprised and happy to see me again so soon. I felt horrible as I slunk past him and said quite sheepishly; I’m actually sitting in the booth behind you.  He turned and came face to face with Joe. Introductions were made and Christian retreated to his booth, his back facing us. Oh God, now I have to stare at the man I really wanted to be sitting with while I’m sitting with Joe Blow.

I prayed he’d drink fast and my prayers were answered.

We got out of there and after more attempted mauling by my car, we went our separate ways.

I came home to recharge my depleted emotional battery over wine, but it was only an hour later that I was resuscitated by Maverick….and THAT, my friends, is a whole new story. But now  I’ve got a date to get ready for, so you will have to wait. 

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