"I Pity The Fool" - Mr T.

And unfortunately, that fool would be me. Enter Mr T. This whole experience was so traumatic that somewhere repressed in my subconscious is how we actually met, but I'm not willing to unbury that bad memory. Now, I know what you're picturing...large African American man with bulging biceps, a mohawk, and some really horrible gold jewelry. You're pretty close, except that this Mr T is short with greasy slicked back hair, not so many muscles, lots of chest hair (and apparently not so good at buttoning up his shirt), but definitely equal amounts of gold jewelry. Oh, and Colombian. Have I not yet learned my lesson about sticking to dating in English?! Apparently not. I never really wanted to go on this blind date, so when I didn't see him right away at Starbucks, I got all ready to grab my coffee and go. Unfortunately, I stopped just long enough to read the front page headlines of the paper, and out walked Mr T...who had apparently been at a table in the back and around the corner. A BRILLIANT place to wait for someone you've never met before. That should have been a sign. And so started some of the most awkward conversation ever. And this is how I know it was awkward: at one point he said, "so, girl with the beautiful eyes..." And I literally almost spit my coffee out all over him, I was laughing so hard. Here's what made it even worse...the WHOLE time (and by time, I only mean the 30 minutes I could stand to be in the same room with him) he was talking he had his hand down his shirt. I do NOT want to know what he was digging for. And when I really thought it couldn't get any worse, he invited me to go back to his place. We had known each other exactly 30 minutes. What kind of creepy lunatic...?!?! "Well, would you look at the time..." I practically ran out to my car. And if this hadn't already proved the need to start dating in English, as a very cultural custom (which I'm fine with in ANY other circumstance), he leans in to kiss me. EW. So I stick out my hand awkwardly (but it worked to avoid the lean), shake his, and get into my car, wishing I had some hand sanitizer. Even worse than the date itself, is that I was so repulsed and icked out on the way home that I stopped to get gas and in my state of desperately needing a shower to remove the ickiness, I put diesel in my car. Yeah, last time I checked I'm not driving a semi. Shit. But because I was so embarrassed about the diesel, I drove to ANOTHER gas station to finish putting regular gas in my car. All I can say is, maybe I could have used some of the crap from Mr T's hair for an oil change...SO. DISGUSTING. Maybe next time I'll stick to dating the real Mr T; after all, it definitely couldn't be much worse.

The First Juan (pun intended)

You would have thought that by now I'd know better than to let someone set me up on a blind date, but I'm apparently a slow learner. So, when a family friend told me she had "just the guy", I figured it certainly couldn't get any worse. Enter Juan. As I'm typing this, it's finally occurring to me (YEARS later...I really must be a slow learner) that he might have just been looking for a green card...but I digress. So, Juan is given my phone number and Juan calls me. And Juan's very first comment to me is "Just so you know, I'm looking to get married." Eh, okay, why not. Enter hours and hours of phone conversations, mostly in Spanish, and yet we never seemed to quite be on the same page about anything...a problem WAY worse than a language barrier, which we coincidentally also didn't have. But perhaps that's because his favorite topic of conversation revolved around "anyone who had a name that ended in 'ez' mean that they were Jewish!" Uh, good to know, I guess, but how many times is that conversation necessary?!? And so things continued, but mostly because I had nothing else going on anyway. Then one night we went out for coffee, and not even Juan Valdez or all the coffee in Central America could have redeemed that experience. So we sat across the table from each other at Starbucks, while he told me his entire life story which involved large quantities of drugs and alcohol. Because nothing says "I'm a quality guy" like "I used to be a drug addict". Good grief. And when he was finally finished and I was feeling sufficiently awkward and uncomfortable, he launched into a tirade about my not telling him everything I've ever done wrong, and clearly that makes me not a genuine person. Excuse me, what?! "Well, would you look at the time..." So the most awkward man on earth follows me out to my car, tries to hug me and says "let's do this again sometime." Oh yeah, that's definitely gonna happen for you. RIGHT! And yet, he just kept calling and calling and calling. Let's think about this smart guy...you TOTALLY insult me and then can't figure out why I don't want to marry you (yeah, that apparently was still on the table for him!)...WOW. I guess Juan is going to have to find his green card elsewhere. And I swear of blind dates, AGAIN.

More Internet Junk and an Unintentional Speed Date

Enter the Internet Trial number 4… we might as well call him Army 2. Taking advantage of a free communication weekend, we correspond for three whole days. In the spirit of putting myself out there, I give him my email and he sends me his phone number. I know absolutely NOTHING about Army 2. Really, literally. I know his name and that he’s in the Army. I haven’t called yet. A girl can only put herself out there so much, you know?

And then there was J., also a product of the internet...where, as it turns out, he should have stayed. We emailed a little bit, but his emails were flat, dry, and BORING and that should have been a HUGE red flag. But, he liked basketball. And as it turns out, so do I. Plus, how bad could he be since he went to my church. So, we made plans to have coffee, but ONLY between the hours of 7:30 and 8:00pm. His philosophy: first dates should be short. My philosophy: a first date should be long enough for me to at least be able to fill up my coffee cup. But, what the hell. So, we meet for coffee. Well, at least that was the goal. But his opening line should have sent me running: "THERE'S NO TIME FOR COFFEE!!" Uh, OKAY. So, I sit and proceed to be interrogated for the next twenty minutes - worse than any job interview I've ever had. No matter what card I played (figuratively, although card playing might have helped make the 20 minutes more tolerable), I could not get J. to converse. Prior to this disatrous date, no guy has ever turned down hearing about living in a sorority house full of college girls! After twenty PAINFUL minutes (where the next question was asked before I could even finish answering the one before it!), he jumped up from the table, I breathed a sigh of relief, and then I suggested that things weren't going to work out. "I'll call you!" J. yelled over his shoulder as he practically ran out of the coffee shop. I'm not sure he ever heard me laughing, but I'm pretty sure he got the hint when I never answered the phone again! AWKWARD...no wonder he's still single. Heck, if this is what I've got to choose from, no wonder I am still single!