Something a Little Different: Connections

I thought I would try something a little different with this post. Let me know what you think in the comments. I can stop anytime. I swear.

And while you’re at it…

Eons ago, when I was a lonely, single, drunk man, we used websites to find dates. There were no apps or “courtesy swipes.” We signed up for dating sites and received emails like, “Laura K. Winked at You!” and then you were encouraged to go to the site and look at that person’s profile and see if they liked the same things you did. For those who might not remember this ancient time, everyone liked walking on the beach, and all women were on the site because they were “tired of The Bar Scene.” Inevitably, when you did contact a person, you would meet in a bar, but obviously, the Bar Scene was something different.

Most of these Internet dates I went on have faded from my memory, because most of them were with women whom I went out with once, paid for the meal, and thought we had a good time, only to receive an email the next day saying that, although they enjoyed my company, they just didn’t sense a connection and were going to continue exploring other options on the site. Now, I can look back and realize that I was probably just a bad dater, but at the time, it infuriated me that these people would spend a couple hours with me and allow me to pay, and not at the very least give me one more try. I wasn’t asking to marry them or anything. I guess I thought I was like the first sip of a fine Scotch: a little bitter, but once you taste a little more, you’ll probably start to enjoy it.

Despite the fact that I was having such bad luck, people seemed to like the stories. My brother in particular seemed to get a real charge out of them, often asking if I had gone on any bad dates lately just so I could regale him with the tale. By this point, he had already been married over ten years, so maybe he was just living vicariously. I did have to remind him that, while they make for amusing stories, as one of my idols Neil Peart said, “Adventures suck when you’re having them.”

For some reason, I never forgot this particular one. I think it was on my third attempt at even trying Internet dating, and I actually had a female friend of mine help create my profile. I was ready to give it a go. Maybe not a serious one, but something to do. So, I hunted. I waded through hundreds of women like they were trading cards (which they pretty much were), searching for decent ones who could at the very least provide me with a diversion. I wasn't searching for a soulmate or supermodel here. Just, as I said, something to do. The worthy few received emails.

And I waited some more.

I finally got a response, and so I leapt.  Since she was Russian, I originally wanted to give her a cool name like Natasha. However, since she wasn't nearly that exotic, I'll call her Sue.  Sue was actually quite attractive, which was important to me, and seemed genuinely interested in giving this online thing a try. We agreed to meet at a (one guess) bar near her home.  I decided to get there early, figuring it would look cool of me to be there drinking a beer when she arrived. At the very least, I would be loose. So, I bellied up and ordered a drink.

And I waited some more.

After ten minutes, I ordered another beer, figuring she would be along. I didn't want to get plastered on a first date, but I couldn't just sit there.  After twenty minutes, I actually felt a sense of relief.  She was obviously not coming, and now I could go home and not have to play the perfect man for the next couple hours. I would finish my beer and be on my way.

As I neared my last sip, I got the call.  Sue had been waiting out front for me and when I didn't appear, she went back to her apartment for my number to call me. See how long ago this was? She didn’t even have my email on her phone. Well, ok. it wasn’t that long ago. She totally dropped the ball on that one. Still, just a slight miscommunication, but I told her I was still there if she wanted to come back - and told her exactly where I was sitting.

She finally arrived, and by this point I was already three strong beers in, and now my night was only beginning. I decided to slow it down so as not to give her the wrong impression (which may have been the right impression.)  When she showed up, she promptly ordered a glass of wine. And promptly drank it as I nursed my fourth beer.

After a couple more glasses of wine, Sue really loosened up, and began to say cryptic things, like, "Oh, I've had quite an interesting life, let me tell you."

"Wow. Cool. So, tell me about it."

"Oh, no  I can't.  But after the week I've had, I just needed some wine.  I hope that's okay."

"Of course.  So, what happened this week?"

"Oh, you know... just one of those weeks."

Huh.  After three exchanges like that, I assumed she was lying, or maybe a spy, but in fact, she was simply drunk.

More wine was consumed, and Sue soon told me that she had barely eaten anything all day so the wine was doing its job. We had crossed into the Late Night Menu territory, and ended up ordering a half-cooked pizza, which did little to stave off her drunkenness. I actually had to help her to the ladies room at one point. This, of course, after I was very careful not to get too drunk on our first date.

Eventually, I paid our bill, as one does (And I doubted she was capable), and we left. She said she wanted to smoke a cigarette, so we bought a pack and had a couple puffs in the square.  She became very enthralled by the street musician's version of "All Along the Watchtower," although I’m not sure she knew what it was.  When I mentioned that it was akin to the Dylan version, she threw five dollars at him and asked him to play Bob Dylan.  He replied that he just did.

"Tell him to play Bob Dylan," she belted, in broken, drunken English.

"Uh, I don't usually make a lot of conversation with the street urchins."

As I walked her home, I thought maybe I could salvage something out of this night with at least a good night kiss. Above all, I am a gentleman, but also a man. And let’s face it, in her present state, even a bad dater like me could probably swing it. My real hope was that she wouldn't pass out before we got there. We finally reached her apartment, and since I am Dursin, she couldn't find her keys. She had left them inside earlier when she went back for my number.  Her roommate wasn't answering her phone or the door, and I lived pretty far away and, even if I didn’t, I was under no circumstances going to bring her back to my apartment.  After several minutes, she finally got her roommate to come down and let her in, but the moment was gone. I said good night and went on my way, actually feeling relieved that I would probably never see her again.

Oddly enough, I did. Sue actually contacted me and asked if she could treat me to lunch, feeling guilty about how that first date turned out. I really didn’t want to go, but how could I get mad about women not giving me a second chance if I did the same to this girl? And who doesn’t want a free lunch?

Our lunch went fine enough. No weird almost-stories about what a crazy life she’d had. Just normal chit-chat. When all was said and done, however, I realized a very important thing: I did not feel a connection with this person, and would continue exploring other options. All those times that I felt that these women spurned me because they were just superficial and they weren’t giving me a real chance, I was just being vain. It was pure ego driving me to think that. There was nothing inherently wrong with Sue, although she may have done well to slow down on the wine on a first date, but I just didn’t see myself actually dating her. Despite the weirdness, it was a lesson that I needed to learn.

Strangely though, I did have one more encounter with Sue. It was months later, and for some reason, she invited me to a party in her new apartment. And for some reason, I went. I guess I didn’t have anything else to do, and despite the fact that I wouldn’t know anyone else there, I thought I might meet someone cool. I mean, I was never going to meet anyone sitting in my apartment. I don’t really remember much about the party, except that she lived across the hall from her brother, and this dude was a total mess. If I ever needed living proof that drug abuse can destroy a person, this guy was it. This guy could barely complete a sentence, and here he was, living in a decent-sized apartment in one of the most expensive cities in the country. And there I was, a guy with a decent job who could barely make his rent, buying weed from that other guy. So, I guess you have to ask, who was the real total mess? 

Hope you liked me not ranting about movies for a change. If so, make sure you like and subscribe and share and all those things. Also, I have a podcast and a comic book. I’ve never posted this for some reason, but issue #0 of the comic can be read for free here. I also have a Teepublic storefront, and right now every-GD-thing is 35% off! Check it out and get a deal. I honestly can’t believe none has snatched a Talking Heads T-shirt yet.

Keep on keepin’ on.