To say I was a bit worried about my impending date with the man who would soon be known as The DM (short for The Depressed Mechanic), would be an understatement. I was terrified.
At first, things seemed promising as he was a mechanic with a love of the outdoors. He was basically my father or so I thought.
He was a slow mover though and we chatted for quite a while before he made the move for my number. Which he never called. He was a texter. He did lose points for that after the other guys had all manned up and called.
We had plans set for a Sunday evening dinner at 5:00. I won’t pretend I didn’t think of cancelling. I won’t pretend I didn’t think of feigning illness. I’m also particularly good at getting so worked up when there’s something that I don’t want to do that I actually get physically sick. I made my best efforts not to do this.
At 4:20 I had already finished my make up and was working on my hair. I didn’t have a ton of time as I needed to leave around 4:30 to get to the restaurant on time.
It was at 4:27 that he text me to cancel. I was pissed. He offered up doing it later at 7:00. No. He didn’t have a family emergency. He wasn’t in an accident. His excuse? He was hanging out with his dad and lost track of time.
First of all, not cool. Secondly, I didn’t even want to go on the date but decided to be polite as we’d had the plans for over a week.
He made some rude comment to which I replied with a rude comment. I figured good riddance.
Later that week he text and apologized. He offered to meet up another night. I asked him how he planned to make it up to me. I can’t remember his response which shows it wasn’t noteworthy.
The following Saturday we met up at a restaurant. I saw him at the bar and immediately hoped that wasn’t him as he had on what appeared to be a little kid’s jacket with a sloppy mess on his head. I was not impressed.
He already had a drink which was mostly gone. No, I wasn’t late. In fact I was five minutes early but he had been 25 minutes early. We had quite a wait for the table so I ordered a drink. And I got out my wallet. And I paid.
So much for making it up to me. Strike 2.
Conversation flowed fairly well throughout our time at the bar and dinner as well. He did mention his depression and how he can’t alter his sleep schedule at all or else it gets significantly worse. This isn’t the first guy who has gone into that kind of detail on a first date. I don’t go into detail about my sinus/allergy/ovary issues on the first date and I expect the same. I just don’t really see the point in making people listen to all that if they’re not going to be around very long.
Dinner ended and I was surprised that I didn’t totally detest him. I didn’t really like him either, but a lack of hatred was new for a match.com date so I figured I’d roll with it.
I pulled out my wallet when the check came fully expecting to have to pay my half as he didn’t seem overly keen on fixing the previous week’s mistakes. He actually paid.
Then made a big deal out of it. I ignored it. Strike 3.
He had parked near the front door, and I had parked around the side (where there were fewer cars and therefore the chances of an idiot dinging my door are significantly reduced. Hey, you knew I was anal.). He didn’t walk me to my car. Strike 4.
Fortunately, I wasn’t pillaged on the way to my car and I arrived safely. He pulled up shortly after to follow me to a brewery near my place.
Now, I won’t pretend that I’m a stranger to speeding. But I knew he was following me so I maintained a steady 57 (in a 55). He kept drifting further and further back. I wasn’t quite sure how slow he expected me to drive, but clearly the speed limit was far too dangerous for The DM.
I gave up when he still couldn’t catch up and I was doing 45 (in a 55!). I figured I’d just lose him and go home. I like sleep anyway.
He managed to catch up on the road with the 40 mph speed limit. But only when I slowed down to 30. Strike 5.
This was a clear indication that we were not meant to be. You know, that and the fact that I was mildly repulsed at the thought of kissing him. And I found him slightly irritating. But hey, that’s what match.com does to you. You prolong a date with a mildly repulsing, depressed, irritating douche. This also explains how I got involved with Man Friend. My expectations were quite low after my string of match.com dates.
Anywoo, we pulled into the bar. He ran straight up to the door where I met him. Strike 6.
We went in and I ordered a beer. I knew I wouldn’t drink much if any, as I am not a fan of those who drink and drive.
The check came. I offered to get both as he’d bought dinner. He took me up on it.
I was on a new migraine medication which made me quite tired. When 11:45 rolled around and I was still nursing my first beer and he was on his third (2/3 of them I’d paid for), I wanted to go. He made a big deal about me not having finished my beer. I insisted I wouldn’t. He insisted he’d get another and wait it out. Strike 7.
He got another beer. I continued to watch him drink while thinking I should have just gone straight home and to bed.
When he’d finished that one and I still had 7/8 of mine left he started in again. I insisted I was leaving in ten minutes whether or not he did, I didn’t care. He ended up drinking my beer. Strike 8.
And he didn’t walk me to my car again either. Strike 9.
Yet somehow, he managed to get a second date with me.