El Director

   You know how they say it’s a small world? In my first week of online dating, I learned that it’s an even smaller internet world. When El Director and I started talking more, we discovered that we have a mutual friend. And not just any mutual friend; we both know Bangs, my ISFJ twin, who I have become super close with over the past few months.  We talk every day and she already knew about El Director, she just didn’t know she KNEW El Director. Of course, I immediately asked her opinion.

   Taking Bangs’ advice, I prepared myself for the arrogant but nice, tall but Bangs tall (which isn’t saying much since she’s 5’1”), smart but film school smart and seemingly witty southern gentleman. I will admit I was nervous. El Director sent Bangs an email saying he was nervous and excited, promising that he would show me a good time. “Scouts honor.” But what if I was a total disappointment to this hotshot? I got out of my car wearing my favorite new silk blouse and my tight (questionably jegging tight) black pants. I walked toward the museum, where I knew he would be waiting out front. Hesitantly, I took off my glasses to look less geeky, hoping I’d still be able to recognize this stranger.

   An arguably 5’9” man wearing a beige sweater started walking in my direction, and I shook my head a little bit. I could not decide if he looked 5 or 6 months pregnant. If he was going to wear that unflattering sweater, the least he could have done was wear a bra. Boob flaps aren’t even attractive on a female. Man, this was going well.  We said our initial “hello”s. “You ready for the best trip to (insert art museum name here) you’ve ever had?” he said in a shockingly high pitched voice. Luckily, I had never been there before, so I confidently answered “Yes!”

   Unfortunately, I am going to have to drive another hour back to the exhibit before it leaves the city to revisit the art. I did not have enough time to read anything about the artists or their works. Going in, I thought we would run out of time because it was only open for another hour and it is a HUGE exhibit, but no. El Director would not shut up. I tried to blame Chatty Kathy on nerves, but it seems he can’t keep his mouth shut with anyone. As we were passing through a room full depressing paintings, El Director answered his phone, talked with his friend and at the end said “Well I should get back to my lovely date.” In the meantime, I was trying to pretend like I didn’t know the asshole on the phone in a museum. So when he put the device back in his pocket and asked if I heard what he said, I turned around and said “No. What’s up?” Did he really want me to throw him a bone for a rudely executed, indirect compliment?   

   El Director and I bounced around the several different rooms full of controversial art, and I could think of nothing but getting the guy some Ritalin. The few moments of silence I had to take in the visually stimulating displays of social movement were halted when he hugged my arm or pretended to be scared, hiding behind my back in a desperate attempt to get physical contact. His thinly veiled attraction to me took a sharp turn to Awkwardtown when he asked me to pose for some photos. I honestly wonder if he was there to see the art or bag some pics to show off to his friends later. ::sizzle::

   We argued back and forth as he would stand in front of a piece and proclaim, “I could do that.” I do not remember his online profile stating that he is a successful contemporary artist. Yes, I’m sure he could copy some of the pieces we saw. Most anyone could copy art. Where do you think the idea for Paint By Numbers came from? I endured what seemed like days, but by standard Pacific Time translated to a little over an hour. Just as I was visualizing putting on my new organic black algae facemask and jumping into bed early to watch whatever Housewives were fighting on Bravo that night, I heard “You hungry? Wanna grab a bite to eat?” God damn it. Seeing as I did drive over an hour to meet this guy, the least I could do was let him enjoy one more hour of my blissful company.

   At my request, we went to a really rad outdoor bar near the museum that often has live music or plays old martial arts films on the brick walls. I ordered my favorite Hitachino White Ale and the chicken satay skewers. El Director ordered a large hot sake and the house burger.  Over dinner we tried to find something we had in common. For the most part, I agreed to disagree in his taste in movies, music and television shows. I was somewhat grateful for the table of loud drunks next to us that provided a valid excuse for difficult conversation. There was not much to enjoy talking about, until he brought up online dating. He asked me how many messages I get per month on the site. I modestly giggled and asked “Per month? Or per day?” He sort of put his head down in disappointment when he learned that I receive the same number of messages to my profile per day as he receives in an entire month. I decided not to tell him I had only been on the site two weeks! He barked about how difficult it is to meet people in the city, and I noticed myself googling over the twinkle lights as he talked about his friends all being married already, blah blah blah. I explained to him that I am young and enjoying “just meeting new people.”

   I was starting to feel a little bit rude, which is unlike me, because we were arguing so much. He was trying to press my buttons. As the woman next to us stood up to leave she complimented me on my perfume. He looked at me and said “Oh, you wore perfume for me!” I felt no guilt as I replied with a straight face, “Actually I wear perfume every day. One of my biggest fears is smelling bad.” (true fact) He must have wanted to get back at me, so he went on his phone and told me some guy is always messaging him. I said “Texting you? Can’t you just ignore him” (Like I’m going to ignore you when I get your text tomorrow) No. Someone had been Facebook messaging him. REALLY? You’re on Facebook on our date? He must have read my disdain. He turned around and requested the check. Of course I awkwardly pulled out my wallet before I allowed him to pay the bill.

   As we walked out of the restaurant, he put his arm around me asking if I was cold. I was so uncomfortable. I said “No, I am not. Did you want me to be?” I shimmied away a bit trying not give any go ahead’s as he told me he was top notch at giving massages. I steered us in the direction of the parking garage. Thank God his car was parked two floors below mine so that we had to drop him off first. We hugged (I might have felt the baby kick) and I told him it was nice to meet him (and the baby). I quickly got up to my car, briefly answered a text from Shrek who I would be seeing in a couple days, and got on the phone with Bangs who THEN told me “I didn’t want to sway your opinion before going on the date, but this guy is not on the same level as you.” Ha.

   Walking away from date one, I was happy to feel beautiful and wanted. I am relieved that bachelor number one did not blow me away, because then you would not be here reading this right now. A little confidence boost was just the ticket to get back home, sign on-line and find another date. Little did I know, Shrek was somewhere out there pumping iron, anxiously waiting to meet me.

- “Check Please”