Happened February-March 2008
So I joined one of those website dating services in part because my friends were doing it, in part because like Drew Barrymore says in He's Just Not That Into You, "it's hard to meet people organically," and in part because well, egos suffer after break ups and need to be repaired.
Date number one: the Kiwi
He's very good-looking from his profile and after a few clever emails back and forth, we exchange numbers and decide to meet up. He's funny and quick so over some mild text flirting, I ask what I should wear to this date and that his reply should not be "come naked," to which his reply was "that just made my cock shoot straight up."
You'd think that after this, I would have canceled the date or tried to get out of it early some how, but what can I say? He was hot and interested and after a long dry spell you are a little less picky about the small details... if they're hot.
Date number two: the Northern guy
Like the Kiwi, he had a really amazing accent which is a turn on, but unlike Kiwi guy, he is NOT hot, not even luke warm.
We met at a bar in Temple Bar on a Saturday night, which for those of you who have never been is crowded and touristy and this bar was both. He did a gentlemanly thing by giving me the one bar stool but then followed it up with the worst conversation ever. He actually said the phrases "All women are fascists, just look at Hitler, women love a man in uniform, that's how he got in." (FYI my master's degree is in Women's Studies, just to add even more hilarity to that statement).
I bought the second round so I wouldn't feel obligated to this guy and then pulled out every not interested card that I could think of including the divorce card, going out and smoking when I know it annoys him and finally faked a stomach ache to get out of there. It was only mildly amusing when he had the gall to look surprised that the date was ending so early.
Date three: Irish guy 1
He looked nice, had a good sense of humor and seemed like a collected sound and professional guy. He even bought dinner when I got up to use the ladies room, which was not my intent, I like paying for myself because it tones down the weird factor for me, and if I managed to feel beholden to Hitler boy over one beer, I really felt bad when this guy bought my mini nasi goreng.
So what was the problem? He had an enormous head. I seriously sat there throughout the whole date thinking about the size of his cranium. I just sat there thinking that I could never have his children because it would actually kill me. Seriously, this is not a normal thing to think on a first date (or any date fore that matter) as procreation and dating are two things that probably should not go together. I ended up kissing him goodnight, which was awkward as all hell and then tried to think of a nice way of saying we're not going out again because you have an enormous noggin... I hope he's not still waiting for that text. Thankfully a chat with a colleague later made me feel a lot better about this because she'd had a similar situation with another big-headed man.
Date number four: the Scot
Bars seemed to be shorter and less painful meeting places than restaurants after big-head guy. He chose the place for mojitos and the conversation went well so we carried on to another bar. He had a great accent (like all of the others) and despite being 5'3 height has never been a problem for me, because it's hard to find someone shorter than I am without going into midget territory- (is that the PC term? Little people makes me think Leprechauns and although I was in the right place for it, I never dated one of those- to my knowledge).
We sat at the second bar and he was telling me all about working for Guinness and picking out the exact shade of red for one of their ales, which believe it or not was actually much cooler than it sounds as I type it. When the conversation began to run out I started trying to remember things from his profile to talk about (I'm sure the fact that I had to keep a close eye on the time didn't help with the flow of the conversation, but I was flying to Paris to see a friend the next day and needed to be responsible).
So I remembered that this guy was Buddhist and asked him how he came into that faith and his response was "because I found it was most accepting of my fluid sexuality."
Now I've been around the block a few times (at least I thought I had) and I'd never heard that one before, so I asked him to elaborate.
His response: "Oh I've had both male and female partners," and I about died. Now, I have no problem with bisexuality or homosexuality, but I don't like competition and upping the ante from 50 percent of the population to 100 doesn't seem to increase my odds now does it?
I drank my fourth drink rather hastily not knowing how to respond to that last exchange and decided it was time to head home. On the way, I decided to ask the $64,000 question, "How many?" His response was, "Men, three and women, I quit counting after I turned 23," (for the record he was 33 at the time of our date.
I didn't make my flight the next morning, I went home and celebrated my single girl status with my housemates. To my credit, I only missed the check in for my flight by five measly minutes and was actually kind of grateful for the extra time I got to sleep until the next flight left for Paris.
Date five: Irish guy 2
He picks the place; it's a blues bar on the north side of Dublin. We have a bite to eat on the way there and when we arrive, there isn't blues as such, it's blues for kids. There are kids everywhere, crawling under the tables, under our feet, shouting and slightly engaging with the musicians who are trying to keep the children's attention.
The word awkward doesn't even begin to describe it, I never got in touch with him again and neither did he.
