The next guy I’m going to tell y’all about from my first year online I nicknamed Ian the Indian even though his name wasn’t Ian. Nor was he Indian. And if you’re actually surprised about either of those sentences, I have to ask: have you read ANY of my other posts?
I met Ian after my solo 50th by which I mean I wasn’t even meeting anyone, let alone dating. After Daniel cut to black, I went through one of my periodic POF Sahara phases, with the only bright spot being a v handsome, v fit TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD who messaged me looking to hook up. I was shocked, SHOCKED because remember way back when I had morals about shit like age? But I also replied, trying to engage him in some kind of repartee so I could convince myself it was a meeting of minds. Ha! However, he refused to play and there went the one and only chance I had to give myself a 21 yo for my 50th birthday #what I tried to go to Hell, honestly.
Anyhoo. It was after that not watershed moment and Ian was one of those guys who had a profile with the approximate truth or what I like to think of it as “truth lite”. Mr. BTW wasn’t 42 nor was he divorced. Whatever. Neither was he my usual physical type but oc, that’s how I usually roll so. We met for lunch. He was dressed in beige from head to toe, and not in a good way, which I found odd and unattractive. However, he did make me laugh right away, which was a huge plus. As well, one of the first guys I told about my adjusted profile age, all he said was: “Get the fuck out of here” #nowthatswhatimtalkingabout
Sadly, along with being funny, he was also something that’s generally one of my deal breakers on a first meet: the dreaded monologist. Via “Dude: You Are Not Your Fruit Plate said the Zombie”, we know it means a man who holds forth in a constant verbal stream about he, himself and him. You are optional. As is consciousness. And so it was with Ian, who elaborated upon his own life story throughout the meal, giving unasked for yet exceptionally precise minutia about completely random events from way the fuck back that cast him in a highly flattering light. Honestly, I felt had there been an audience cue, I would have clapped obediently…having been woken up in a timely fashion, oc.
In his defense, Ian would intersperse his soliloquy with brief flashes of being interested in what I had to bring to the table so I persevered though he was a NON DRINKER. Talk about adding unasked for water to the barely existing fire…
A note about the alcohol issue: he was my first “I just don’t like to drink” guy and I was considering it to be a deal breaker on its own, just because for good or bad, a huge chunk of my socializing and relax time involves wine. If we’re out for dinner, will I feel weird with someone drinking pop, like his fucking mom or something?
But it gets better. Because it’s me, oc. We went for a walk along the water and I thoughtlessly asked: “Are you a boat person?” Why? Because I’m a fucking idiot. And right away, Ian asked: “Are YOU?” And again, me being me, I didn’t hedge my bets or bat my nonexistent eyelashes and play coy. I told the fucking truth: “I am not. In fact, I don’t even really like the water.” And BOOM, he whipped out his phone and showed me his screensaver which was a fucking boat. And I said: “You just fucking downloaded that pic to make me feel like an asshole.” And HE said: “Nope. That’s my boat.” Jesus. Dating 101, people. TV lawyers have taught ALL of us never to ask a question you don’t know the answer for; in the POFverse, don’t ask a fucking question you don’t want to answer. Hello!
The rest of the date was more of the same ratio 80/20 of Ian talking about himself and Ian making me laugh. The really funny thing is, he also appeared to be into me so when he asked me out again, I actually said OK. Not because I’m a glutton for punishment, though I often am, but because of Half Pint.
Let’s call it Half Pint’s First Date Theory of Verbal Plumage Display. It’s based on her experience with Noah on their first date in which he talked about himself constantly and bragged and she didn’t like him very much. However, she still slept with him, they’re married now and he’s an awesome guy. SHE posits that when an insecure and/ or very nervous because he wants to impress you man likes you, he will give examples of all of his stellar qualities ad nauseam in an effort to persuade you that he’s the best peacock in the pack. Pick me! Pick me! I suppose it is a little more advanced than leaving a bison at your cave door though equally irritating. So, in consideration for Half Pint’s possibly valid reasoning, I was my own guinea pig. As per usual.
Fast forward to date two: dinghy ride from his boat – alternate Universe me LOVED it! – and once again, he talked allabouthimself with a few moments of not. Thank God. Then we had several weird awkward moments where my phone went off then he tried to kiss me and HIS phone went off. Ridonkulous. But it would have still been okay ish if he hadn’t driven me home and told me, IN EXCRUCIATING DETAIL, about a job he had IN HIGH SCHOOL. You cannot make this shit up, kids. For fucking real. To this day I just shake my head. Dude, so no game there. Hard.
Ian then went on to forget about a date he’d already made with me, was a weak ass texter – I know…when he couldn’t fucking shut up in person! – AND a non drinker. The final straw? He went away for a week. Reread my “It’s POF Time, Kids” to understand that’s like a fucking year, dude. When he returned, I’d moved on.
Postscript: Ian would much later message and eventually stand me up on a “friend date”. I would ignore his next message. I have sometimes wondered what would have happened had he made conversation not declarations. I’ll never know though because he was not my Noah. Ian 0 Guinea Pig 0. We’ll call it a fucking draw.
Have you been on a date with a droner? Or should the question be: who has NOT been on that date? #inserteyerollhere The real question is did you persevere and if so, did it work out for you like it did for Half Pint? Inquiring minds aka nosy little ol’ me would like to know.