So I gave Mr. Nice Guy one final shot. Or rather I made one last pathetic attempt to contact him before I promptly moved on. No response. I didn’t expect one, but it would have been nice. Like I said, he said all the right things, and made me feel pretty in a way I hadn’t felt before. But something my mother said, and the Boy, too, though I hate to give him any credit for it, and a few other people I’ve met since I’ve moved into my new living situation, made me realize that I didn’t need to beg Mr. Nice Guy for attention.
While I know that guys pretty much swipe right for every girl that they see on Tinder, I also know that even though they swipe right, they don’t always talk to a girl. And I’ve had pretty good luck with guys actually talking to me and trying to ask me out on Tinder.
I’m a good catch, and people are starting to notice…
I went on a date with the Investment Broker last night. We had decided to get together yesterday while we talked on the phone for over an hour. We always talk on the phone for over an hour…
From our phone conversations, you would think it was a good fit, but something has always felt a little off. I wasn’t feeling him, as one of the girls I work with said. She also told me I didn’t have to have a reason not to like him, but that runs counter to my very being.
As I’ve tried to explain to the Boy, the reason is the ONLY thing that ever matters to me. I think it’s why I am good at metaphor and simile even though I’m not supposed to be, because of the Asperger’s: I look for the reason why a thing is said and similes and metaphors have a very specific purpose, generally speaking. Sarcasm does, too, or at least it should.
The purpose is paramount in my world…
But back to Tinder.
So, out of curiosity (mainly), I agreed to go out with the Investment Broker. He wanted me to come over and then we’d go to the grocery store and pick out the things to cook for dinner.
He was impressed that I could cook, and then when we talked about what he liked to eat, he named stuff I’ve never cooked before, and some of which I’d never even eaten before. Like oxtail. I saw on Food Network that it can be made into some sort of stew, but have never in my life tasted it, let alone cooked it. But the Investment Broker knew how to cook it, and even had some in his freezer, he said. He just needed a pressure pot…
I can only assume he meant a pressure cooker, as even Google takes me to pressure cookers when I type “pressure pot.”
I don’t have one of those either. Never needed one. While, yes, I can cook, I tend to make stuff that doesn’t require such high tech gadgetry. I even chop and slice my own veggies instead of using a mandolin. And I buy my cheese pre-grated. It takes so much less time and there’s less clean up.
But that’s neither here nor there.
He seemed relatively harmless, and being ex military, and a money guy, I figured he was probably not a mass murderer luring me to my death. I agreed to go.
He wanted to meet at 2:30, but didn’t call to give me directions until 2:15. I live half an hour away… when there’s no traffic. Have you ever driven in Houston on any of the major freeways on a Sunday afternoon? There was traffic, and I was already starting late because I was waiting for him to give me the address so I could check it out before I actually got ready. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to somewhere scary.
When I was close, he suggested that we go out to eat, and I said that would be preferable and that I would meet him at the restaurant. So we met at the Applebee’s within walking distance of his apartment. As soon as I saw the apartments next to the restaurant, I knew what his plan was.
He was totally transparent! He obviously did have plans to lure me back to his place for nefarious purposes.
But I played along. I gave him the power to order my drinks. He ordered me a Long Island right off the bat. This guy didn’t know who was dealing with! I can drink quite a bit before it starts to impair my judgement.
Dinner was nice, although he had us sit at the bar, meaning we were sitting side by side, which is not good on a date. It makes me self conscious, and it tends to be what power hungry men do to their women to show ownership. I always thought it odd when I saw a couple sitting side by side in a restaurant and not across from each other.
One exception. Superman took me out one time, and the hostess took me to a circle booth meant for a large group, even though I told her I was going on a date, and so when he showed up, we ended up sitting right next to each other. We made it into a game though, people watching and talking about everyone else, and it wasn’t a first date.
This guy, the Investment Broker, definitely was using it as a power play. So, I fed into his need for power a little bit by letting him order for me. I didn’t know what else to do to get the conversation going. I was not immediately attracted to him, and he had no game whatsoever.
His conversational skills were lacking in person, though on the phone we have these long drawn out conversations. I don’t understand it.
And he obviously was on a mission to get me drunk. On top of the Long Island, he bought us two rounds of shots, and then kept getting me beer. Cheap beer at that.
He offered to have me come over and watch TV, which I was fairly certain was code, but I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since the apartment was right there. But of course, he was just that transparent.
In our conversations, we had talked about Star Trek, and things that require a brain to watch. I even explained my Asperger’s to him (didn’t want the same dilemma that I’d had with Mr. Nice Guy all over again). So, when we got to his place, which looked surprisingly similar to the Boy’s old apartment (the one that he started decorating theoretically because we were dating and he expected to have more company over because of it), and he put on MTV’s “Broke A$$ Game Show,” imagine my confusion.
He had several episodes of what looked to be an interesting science show. I even commented on how interesting that looked, but similar to the guy who took me to the Science Museum, and purposely steered me away from the exhibit he told me I would like, this guy was trying to control the situation and keep it from something where I might appear more intelligent than him.
So I drank more to avoid the embarrassment of the show I was watching. Meanwhile, he kept trying to grab me and make me cuddle, which was okay to a point. But instead of trying to kiss me or something that would have been cute, he rubbed on the top of my head. Touching the top of my head is not okay. Ever. Rubbing on it like I’m a dog, doubly not okay.
When he suggested we “lay down” and watch the show in his bedroom, there was no doubt where things were headed, and when he tried to guilt trip me about not going down on him while we were watching TV, I told him it was time for me to go.
That’s not a thing I do for just anybody, and I wasn’t feeling him from the start. So, in spite of his oh so sweet words, when he told me I was “stunning” and that I was “so much more than he had expected,” he didn’t rank high enough for such a thing. I don’t care how much he spent on dinner and drinks.
So that’s another one down.
I’ve got two other guys in the Tinder Cue that I’m talking to. While that may not seem like many, I’ve gone through quite a few to get down to those two. I really am quite picky, although from my last couple of choices, it may not seem so. In reality though, I only swipe right 1 out of every 5 or so guys. So out of 100, that’s only 20 that I will swipe right for. And of those 20, I might actually match with 15. Of those 15, only 10 will actually start a conversation, and of those 10, I’ve only got these two left that are worth talking to.
And somewhere in the mix, against my better judgement, there is still the Boy.
He’s been a really good friend through it all. He was even on standby to come rescue me in case the Investment Broker turned out to be a horrible mass murderer or a rapist or something. I gave him the address of where I was going before I even left on the date. Just in case.
He doesn’t think I see it, but I do. I see that he cares. I should probably give him more credit than I do. I just don’t like to give him credit when he’s also capable of hurting me so badly…