Saturday, April 01, 2006

G.I. Jane

A buddy (using the term loosely) wanted to set me up with his cousin. She was about my age, not bad looking (he showed me an older pic) and since I was having in a dry spell (I'm not George Clooney) I agreed and the date was set.
It was a weekend morning and we had decided to meet in the coffee shop area of a local bookstore. I got there first and was trying not to look nervous, one eye scanning the store for the demure slip of girl that I'd seen in the photo, when in swaggers the person, jeans, black t-shirt, MUSCLES , no make-up and a hair that I would describe as a modified mullet!I was polite and tried to hide my confusion as I went to the counter and got her a coffee. When I returned to the table, my date (whom I'll call "Sarge") mentionedthat she had just gotten out of the service, missed it terribly, and started telling me stories about her military adventures around the globe with her best pal (whose name I forgot) also a woman this date wasn't so much bad as confusing. I know , as we talked, that Sarge was checking out girls from the corner of her eye (I was too) and the date ended with a too firm handshake (Owww Sarge!!) and she said she'd like to see me again...what the hell for? This girl was clearly a pretty butch lesbian...anyway, I'm still scratching my head.
Editors Note: Maybe she just wanted to "Take A Walk On The Mild Side"!

J-Date to A-Date (as in Ass)

Thanks to Cake for letting me post this date. You can read more about her
adventures at
Grover's trying to find a man. This is her story.
She went on J-Date. She enlisted the help of her lifelong friends, Bert and Ernie (that's me) to sift through those who replied and craft witty comebacks. She found one guy, who shall remain screen-nameless, and we agreed that he seemed cute and that we (I mean, she) should write back. She did, and in the manner of these things, they began a few rounds of e-flirtation.
He suggested they meet; she agreed. He suggested a location for a drink, a place near his office that wasn't convenient for her, but he had mentioned several times how busy he was at work, so she didn't want to cause problems.
They met. They talked. As over the phone, he mentioned again how busy he was at work. And how much money he made. And how important he was at work. And how much money he made. And how he didn't really believe in friends. "I have two good friends," he boasted, "but I don't believe anybody has more than that. If they do, they're lying." She made a game protest about how this wasn't true for her, but he didn't listen. Also, he didn't believe in sports. Didn't see the point. This to someone who had captained her college squash team. The evening was getting late. Well, not late; they'd only been there for 45 minutes. But she couldn't last a full hour, though she had tried.
Still, she made a last attempt to engage him in a conversation about her--something he'd showed not much interest in doing.
"Do you have any plans for the weekend?" she asked, adding, "I'm going away."
"Where?" he asked.
"Kentucky." (Yes, she was visiting me.)
"Ken-TUCK-y!" he spat, "why are you going to Kentucky?"
"My oldest friend lives there," she replied.
"Your friend grew up in New York and now she lives in Kentucky? Why??
"Her girlfriend moved there," Grover explained. "She got a job."
"Wait, wait, her girlfriend? Is your friend gay?"
"Well, did you ever hook up?"
Evening definitely over; no point in pleasantries. And after 50 minutes with Wealthy, Friendless and Boring, Grover found it in her to cook up the riposte, "No. Did you ever hook up with your sister?"
Go, Grover! And if any of you are ever in a situation like this, I'm happy to be the excuse for your blowing off a bad date.