FUCKING ANYTHING!

7 Mar

Jeremy is a Buddhist and he doesn’t believe in gods or dieties. I know this because he told me four times, “I don’t belive in any gods or dieties.”

Great, Jeremy. I wear a size 6.5 shoe. WHO CARES?! I don’t care that you’re a Buddhist – you think that makes you cooler? Eff. I should have taken this as a sign that this was going nowhere, fast.

Before meeting, we G-chatted and spoke on the phone a couple of times. Online, he was quirky and funny. On the phone, he was not. What I took for quirky and funny was really just weird. He would call me and “talk” for 2 minutes (really) and then get off the phone. Then he would text me and say,

“Call me tonight. I want to talk like we’re in high school”

RED FLAG!     RED FLAG!         RED FLAG!

What does that even mean? When I was in high school, I talked to my boyfriend, the star basketball player, until four in the am. Four. Most of that four hours was spent arguing over who loved the other more. I don’t want to go back to that.  Plus, being in my late twenties, there’s something just weird about that sentence. “Like we were in high school…” :::shiver:::  Gross, right?

So, somewhere between 2 minutes and four hours is our go-zone. But it never happened. After speaking for a month, our schedules finally aligned and we were able to meet in person for our first date.

We decided to meet at a coffee house – because Jeremy doesn’t drink alcohol (red flag? me thinks, yes.) because he’s a Buddhist and doesn’t believe in gods or dieties. I get to the coffee house, see Jeremy,  go over to his table, sit down, and start the usual first date talk. I wait for him to chime in with comments, questions, ideas, stories, jokes, FUCKING ANYTHING. But he doesn’t say a god. damn. word.

After what seems like an eternity, I suggest we go to the local bookstore. This way, we can still be “on a date” but I don’t have to be anywhere near him or have to talk to him, since I’m the only one EFFING saying anything. And also, being in a bookstore provides things to talk about…books, magazines, movies…. just lots and lots of stuff.  I learned that he doesn’t like clutter (decorating books) and then he made fun of me for liking graphic novels. WINNING!

As we’re leaving the bookstore we pass a falafel place and I tell him that I have an obsession with chickpeas and I must go in. I do have an obsession with chickpeas and I do love falafel, but I decided to have lunch by myself, at this falafel place, because I DIDN’T WANT TO BE AROUND HIM ANYMORE.

The next day (the falafel was delicious, btw), he G-chats me:

Jeremy: Did you feel a connection with me? I hope I did not bore you.
What I thought: A connection? No, no Jeremy you douche bag, I didn’t feel a muthafucking connection with you because you didn’t say anything. And yes, I was bored. You’re BOOOOOOORING.

What I said: Honestly, I don’t feel a connection with you. I don’t feel like you were very interested in me at all.

Jeremy: I was. I am just shy when I first meet someone and there is not a context. For example, if we were at the dog park we would have something to talk about.
What I thought: A context? It’s a first date. Get to know me. We went to a bookstore- talk about one of the 50,000,000 titles around us.  Oh, and good example. Tool.

Jeremy: I am just not sure what to talk about with people I have only e-mailed and talked on the phone a few times.
What I thought: Miraculously, Jeremy, the rest of world has figured it out.

What I said: It’s the same situation for me. Only, I asked you questions about you. Tried to get to know you.

Jeremy: Let’s see what’s your favorite color?
What I thought: I’ll cut you.

Needless to say, I never spoke to him again.

The takeaway here:
1. Talk. Just talk.

Jesus, why.
- Jane

5 Responses to “FUCKING ANYTHING!”

  1. Cassius March 11, 2011 at 5:15 pm #

    Thanks for these enlightening accounts of your perils in the dating scene/world… it’s refreshing to read about the various encounters from a woman’s (well, women in this blog’s case) point of view. These postings often provoke a smile or laugh, all the while giving this single 29 yr old man a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he isn’t all that odd & there are sound minded, intelligent women out there looking for something equivalent in the opposite sex.

  2. Kat March 11, 2011 at 4:57 pm #

    Too Funny! I talked on the phone with a guy the other night “like we were in high school!” Of course not by invitation or anything…Not sure how I would have handled that!

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. old balls | Boner in the Back - April 18, 2011

    [...] My memories of James are vivid. He has a crooked smile and birthmark on his… neck (gotcha!) that I’ve always thought was soo cute. We met my senior year in the school gym. I was walking out, after cheerleading practice, juggling my keys, my gym bag, and my pom-poms when he dribbled his basketball right up to me and did some kind of And 1 maneuver, threw the ball around me, and caught it with his other hand forcing me to come in close to him. And that’s how we met. Hello, high school musical. It’s pathetic, I know. You can tell that memory still gives me tingles in all the right places. [For clarity’s sake, this was basketball boyfriend #2 not the one I wrote about in a previous post.] [...]

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