I'm going to preface this blog entry with the truth that there are MANY reasons I have not been on a date in, yes count them 13 years. Among them being that I feel my health baggage is a lot to foist upon an unsuspecting dinner date when they ask "So, what do you do?" When even after all of these years the only answer I have concocted is the breezy and amazingly limber description of my status as "Successfully Unpublished Writer." What I am about to share with all of you is still bewildering to me, a shit ton of funny and more than a bit sad.
I went on a date last night. I'm good for the next thirteen years.
This fella met me VERY briefly through my parents while he was selling them their new trailer, then asked for my number the following day. My parent's obliged (more on that later.) We spoke on the phone after a majorly bizarre game of phone tag that included his calling my parents twice. It was like eating an awkward cake, with uncomfortable frosting sprinkled with more awkward. We were going to meet on Wednesday, somewhere to be determined.
Wednesday, he never called. I have no idea WTF I am going. I call him, and he decides on MacCools. Fantastic. I get there, sit at the bar and the staff start asking me what is up. I tell them all just the top of the story (date is late) so they start to tell me horror stories of girls stood up, and other girls taking dates for huge tabs. The waiter tells me I need to fire my parents, then says "well this lucky guy gets a date with a beautiful lady eh!?" I tell him he's smooth. Bartender gets me my drink and then says "this is why I don't date." I'm really wishing I was back home with my DVR and the bunnies, right then he comes in. He starts asking if he can bring in his guitar and his aboriginal drum and play an acoustic set for everyone. I try to direct him to a booth as fast as possible. The waitress had the funniest look on her face. She kept giving me the "I am so sorry" look all night. She even mouthed it once as I walked by to go to the bathroom.
Within 2 minutes of sitting down he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a crystal that he wanted me to hold so that I could be blessed by its powers from it being bathed in the moonlight. But wait, there's more. He had a total of six bags of stones and crystals on his person. This DOES NOT include the necklaces, rings and bags within the bags. He told me the name of every stone, every crystal and what they do, for him and what they guard against. Mostly his ex-wife and her negative vibrations. He was bitten by a dog recently and he couldn't decide if he was just a buffer for the universe or if his ex sent it. When I was able to speak I would comment how the stones were very pretty, and that some of the names sounded familiar. In my head I was worried that every time he handed me a stone all of my "HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT" energy was going to rub off and ruin his next higher plain meditation. But then I took another drink of beer.
In the space of two hours I learned about suicidal tendencies, aliens, plans for congress, court earlier in the day, his ex-wife's need for his seed and that he is going to hold a benefit concert while singing the song "Black Widow on My Back" (which he tried to sing to me) cuz that is what ex-wives are.
As we were leaving, I went to the bar to pay my part of the tab, but he had paid. The bartender looked at me and said "You can't win 'em all eh?"
As I fidgeted with my keys, he asked if it was too late to come back to my place to play some music. I said very bruskly "Yup. Going home. Going to crash." I hugged him goodbye. Pity hug. (so mean of me to say, I know.)
He called my parents today to tell them he had a good time. My parents are on suspension.