Ted earned himself that nickname recently when he remarked one day that I'm like Barney from "How I Met Your Mother", without all the sleeping around. I don't watch this show but he explained how I am a great wingman, provide valuable insight into the female psyche and have an acerbic sense of humor. (Sidenote: I'm offering my services to all you single men out there. $25/hour flat rate.) One can only deduce that if I'm Barney, then he's Ted.
It might be easier to provide background this way:
You catch my drift by now, I'm sure. So when I mentioned that I created this blog and offered a guest spot in the content department he took me up on the offer. Enjoy.
The 20 Minute Date
I've been caught off guard quite a few times in my life: Every time
I've been hit in the crotch, "Your sister's pregnant and the wedding
is next month", "Son, we're putting you on Ritalin". None of those
quite tops the 20 minute date. It all happened when going out for a
drink to meet this girl who we shall call....Mildred. I honestly
don't remember her name so I am going to give her the least attractive name possible.
So Mildred and I met on Match.com. She first came to my attention via
that time-tested come hither maneuver, the "wink". I've come to
understand the wink as "I'm too scared/busy/not interested/creative
enough to send you an email but you've got a few nice pictures and
there's a chance you're not a sexual predator." She and I exchanged
emails, small talk mostly about things relating to SF, hiking, and
museums. It seems 90% of people on Match.com love hiking, although
I'd bet most of them consider brown bagging in the park a "backpacking" trip. Not that I'm judging, I love brown bagging as
much as the next degenerate.
After the requisite three emails we mutually agreed upon a meetup spot
for a drink. Fly Bar on Divisadero, normally a great place during the
week but a terrible choice for a Saturday night. I arrived on time,
maybe 5 minutes early. I stepped into the bar from the arctic SF
summer night and was greeted with a blast of heat, humidity, and body
funk. The place was packed, shoulder to shoulder and had become a
bikram yoga studio. I was almost immediately soaked in sweat despite
taking off my jacket and rolling up my shirtsleeves. This isn't a few
beads on the forehead, this was one was one of those full body sweats
that envelopes you beginning your scalp, down your back, over the ass
and ending behind your knees. Nothing says uncomfortable first date
like the "I just ran 15 miles" look.
I ordered a beer and vainly tried to wipe the deluge of sweat from my
forehead as I waited for date to show. A few minutes later I saw the
door open from the corner of my eye, and as I glanced up I saw
Mildred. She squinted and scanned the crowded bar for a few seconds,
and as we made eye contact I saw her make a strange facial expression.
It lasted only a split second, but it looked to be some recoil of
fear/surprise. Think Michael Douglas in Fatal Attraction when he
realizes Glenn Close is batshit crazy. Red Flag #1. I don't know
what she was expecting, I'm not Quasimodo or anything and my pictures
do a pretty good job of representing me.
We had the usual introduction and exchanged niceties to start things
off. Then as we were going through the basics, "How long ago did you
move to SF? How do you like living here? What neighborhood do you
live in?" That last one got me a surprise answer, and Red Flag #2.
"Oh, I don't live in SF, I live in Daly City." Now, not that I'm a
snob and look down upon those that live outside of city limits or in
far flung neighborhoods, but is a little honesty really too much to
ask for? Daly City is not SF by any stretch of the imagination,
despite it's proximity. Just suck it up and admit you live there, is
it really that hard? On the bright side, at least you don't live in
Modesto. No one wants to live there, believe me. I have some cousins
who grew up there, and they're going to need years of therapy to get
over it.
The conversation continued with a few periods of awkward silence. At
the time I attributed it to first date jitters; I didn't have much
dating experience and Mildred wasn't exactly helping to facilitate the
conversation. So I ordered a 2nd beer and offered her one, hoping
another drink may help to break the tension. She declined, and after
I'd had a few sips she stood up and asked if I wanted to go outside.
By now we were both sweating due to the room reached a temperature and
humidity level rarely found outside of subtropical rain forests. I
thought she wanted a momentary breath of fresh air, but boy was I in
for a surprise.
We stepped outside, I had left my jacket at the bar along with my
beer, while she brought her purse and coat. I didn't notice. As we
stepped outside she immediately turned to me "I'm not really feeling
the conversation, I'm going to head out." I was stunned. The Daly
City girl who can't carry on a decent conversation is bailing on me?
I was crushed, it was like watching the wheaties commercial they made
a few years ago of Kirk Gibson crushing a home run off the Eck in the
1988 World Series after I'd spent years repressing the memory. It was
the first of many disappointing sports moments I would go on to
experience. Thank you, Bay Area sports franchises.
"Uhh okay, have a good one?" I replied. (Yes I put the question mark
there on purpose). She walked away and I was left with 3/4 of a beer
and a sweat soaked shirt. I finished my beer and met up with some
friends who were just on the other side of Geary. I replayed the
events for them and they sure got a kick out of it. "Twenty minutes,
that's all she gave you?". "Wow man you can't even cut it with Daly
City women." After a few minutes of consummate ball busting, one of
them raised an excellent point: "It sounds like she was a real winner,
20 minutes was enough for you to find that out." I thought about it
for a few minutes and it dawned on me. "Yeah, I got dropped after 20 minutes on the first date but so what?" There was no way in hell
there was going to be a second. She was boring, we had nothing in
common and she lived in Daly City and was in denial about it.
Sometimes, these surprises are for the best even if it's not readily
apparent.
-"Ted"
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