I signed up last week. I'll spare you the details of the messages I've received. For now. But I will tell you about my first time agreeing to meet someone for coffee.
We met at a coffee shop near me. As we ordered our drinks, I struck up a conversation with a random girl sitting at the counter instead of talking to him because I was ridiculously nervous for some reason and instead of acting like a normal adult and just talking to him, I suddenly got really interested in the Flat Stanley this girl was holding. I ordered coconut coffee, but the woman at the coffee shop made me some sort of frozen, blended drink. I just took it because that's what I do. I don't complain. I didn't want to make her feel bad that she made a mistake so I drank what was basically a milkshake. Although, come to think of it, maybe that's a good thing because I was able to drink out of a straw instead of a cup since we all know that I would have ended up spilling down my front. Because I'm classy like that.
So we sat and talked and laughed. He's smart and well-educated and funny, and he's from Chicago so there was no problem finding things to talk about. Or at least there shouldn't have been a shortage of things to talk about. There should have been plenty of appropriate topics to discuss. But when he mentioned my blog, for some unknown reason I felt the need to admit that I had blogged about my colonoscopy. The phrase "explosive diarrhea" left my lips. Do you ever have a moment when you think to yourself, What the crap did I just say??? Oh dear Lord, what is wrong with me??? This was one of those moments. And when I say something stupid, I never, ever stop talking. No, I continue blabbering just to a make the whole situation a little worse. I'm pretty sure the filter between my brain and my mouth is broken. It's the only feasible explanation I can come up with.
I purposely averted my eyes from the horrified expression on his face and concentrated on the positives. He didn't want to make a suit of my skin so there's that.
The coffee shop is located in our cute downtown area and after a while he suggested we walk around which would have been great except that I was wearing these stupid shoes with stupid heels that I haven't worn in probably 8 years. Note to self: when you haven't worn shoes in nearly a decade there's a reason for it. It's because the shoes suck. Throw them away! And to answer your inevitable question - I have NO idea why I was wearing them! I have 15 other pairs of black shoes I could've worn. These aren't even cute so it's not like I was enduring pain for fashion! I really wonder about myself sometimes.
So anyway, although I wanted to walk, I didn't want to walk in these shoes. In the end, I hobbled along beside the guy who is like a foot taller than me. I'm not sure if he noticed I was walking like I had a leg injury, or not. Since he doesn't know me, he probably just thinks I'm a very slow walker.
After a short walk, I suggested we sit by this splash pad where I immediately pulled my shoes off because that's what crazy people do on a first date - they take off their shoes. Remember the part where I said I hadn't worn these shoes in many years? Yeah, well, apparently the interior of said shoes had disintegrated, so when I slipped them off, my feet were covered in all this weird, black crap. Excellent. Did I put my shoes back on like a sane person? Oh no. No, I did not. I walked over to the splash pad fountains, thinking I would wash off the black crap in the water. When I stepped in the fountain I got sprayed with water because, duh, that's what fountains do! And the weird, black crap didn't even wash off! So, my next brilliant thought was - I'll rub my feet along the grass! Yeah, that'll do the trick! So I walked in a patch of grass, dragging the tops of my feet along the surface, trying to wipe off the errant shoe lining that I was beginning to fear had become permanently fused to my toes. Only the black stuff didn't get wiped off, and now my feet are covered in weird, black crap, water, sand, dirt, and a stray blade of grass or two.
Let's recap, shall we? I have proven that I don't know how to walk. I'm covered in weird, black crap, sand, and dirt, and my pants are dripping wet. And then it got even better.
So this man shows me a picture on his phone to go along with a story he was telling. I decide to show him a picture that lives on my Facebook page, only instead of searching my albums on Facebook, I accidentally brought up the camera roll on my phone. The camera roll where there are 3-4 pictures of this guy that I stole from his Facebook page when I stalked him. I had sent them to my friend with the instructions, "This is the guy I'm meeting. If I don't show up for work tomorrow, have the police start here." Unfortunately, I forgot to delete them after showing my friend. So now I not only look like a complete spaz because of the shoe incident, but also a creeper. And then it got even better.
I saw a kid ride by on a longboard. Wait what? That's MY kid riding by on his longboard! My kids were at cheer practice a couple blocks away and I guess the girls ran out of water so Clay, being the little gentleman he is, rode to the gas station in town to buy them a couple bottles of water. I didn't want Clay to see me. I mean, my kids knew I was meeting someone for coffee, and they're cool with me dating, but I don't need to be introducing them to anyone when I'm meeting them for the first time! So, I sort of did this turn away and duck like you're being shot at maneuver. I think this is the point that the guy started yawning and looking at his watch.
When we parted ways, he said he wanted to see me again which can only mean that:
A. Clearly, he's deranged.
B. He thought I was mentally unstable and was afraid I might lose it and do something even more stupid if he said he didn't want to see me again.
Today, I'm looking at adopting cats. I'm not cut out for dating. Or apparently leaving my house and/or spending any sort of time in public.