Ya know today started off great. I was able to sleep in and enjoy a cup of coffee in a nice, quiet house. (Kid at the Ex’s today) After coffee, I squeezed in a little yard work and an awesome workout. While enjoying the blissful start to the day, I had great anticipation of tonight’s date with Mr. Road King.
You see, I have been chatting with this very adorable fellow for a few days. From what I have read and information I can gather from the brief phone conversion, Mr. Road King seems rather laid back, yet outgoing, funny, and pretty cute. He certainly is no Channing Tatum, more cute like a small puppy. He is 6 ft tall, blue eyes, thick brown hair, and a fit body. Not overly muscle bound, but you can certainly see he frequents the weights.
I am a tall girl (5’9″) and really appreciate dating tall men. I mean, how romantic is it to hold a guys hand and the feeling is reminiscent of holding your child hand? Doesn’t that just scream “Take me home now you sexy beast”. NOT!
I digress….so here I am really looking forward to getting to know this cutie a little better. We are planning to meet at an upscale restaurant in a trendy little part of town. Since I am a fan of dressing for the occasion, I pull out my go to LBD (Little Black Dress), red high heels, and moderate diamond solitaire necklace and earrings. A girl has to feel glamorous on a first date. One quick glance in the mirror and I remind myself this guy is one lucky bastard to be seen with me tonight.
As I head to the car I hear what sounds like rain. Ugh. Who wants rain to stop by for a visit when you are trying to look amazing? Thanks Mother nature! Love you too! Sure enough….rain! About that time, my phone rings. I answer before turning on the car.
“Hey. Um, it’s me…you know, Mr. Road King” he says. “Hey. What’s up?” I reply. “Well, um…yeah…see…here’s the deal. I decided to drive the Harley tonight and…um….well…I’m getting poured on. Is there anyway you can come get me?”
I sit quietly for a few seconds thinking to myself, is he a killer or will I be safe. Where is he? Finally I ask, “Well, where are you exactly”? “Oh, I’m just down the road about 15 minutes from the restaurant”.
Lucky for me, the specific location was on my way to meet him, so why not. He is in a public place with lots of people. Besides, I do have a concealed carry permit and I always have my trusty body guard in my purse on the first few dates. Clearly these men have no idea. They would scream running in the opposite direction as fast as they could. By the way, let’s be very clear here. I do not look like I would carry a gun in any way, shape, or form. By definition I look prissy. Clearly I am not that prissy.
I decide what the heck, I’ll go get the poor guy. It is raining really hard and it can’t be fun trying to ride a motorcycle in the rain. I pull into the location looking for the guy I have seen in the pictures. However, I see a poor soaked fellow who appears to be about 10 years older than the pictures. I pull in and say, “Hey Mr Road King. Need a lift?” Needless to say he is very happy to see I am driving a vehicle with a roof. He jumps in the car and we head off to dinner.
Poor guy was soaked to the bone. He clearly had not taken recent pictures in at least a decade, which I was willing to overlook. I get it, it’s hard to call up your dudes and say, “Yo Man. I’m gonna give this online dating thing a try. Yay! I really need you to come over and take some pictures of me for my profile.” His buddies will think he’s gay or on drugs.
As we are riding to dinner, I catch a whiff of what smells like a dog that has been outside in the heat all day. I start to panic thinking it’s me or my car. Then I realize it’s not me…it’s HIM! OMG!!!!! I get that riding a motorcycle may give you that no so fresh feeling, but this as strong and repulsive. I start thinking of how I am going to get out of this date. I can’t run the risk of seeing someone I know with smelly dude in tow. What am I going to do?
We get to the restaurant and I ask if he would like to go someplace else since he is still clearly soaked. Emphatically he says no and I am starving. So I take the risk. We enter the establishment and much to my delight I see no one I know. I ask the hostess for a seat in the back. Perhaps a quiet corner. Away we go to the hidden spot in the back. I think to myself. “Thank God! No one will see me back here”.
I try to regain composure and forget the rough start to the evening. We begin to talk and I can tell right off everything he has told me is a lie. His job, his education, everything. Not only am I on a date with a smelly liar, his shirt is drying and looks like it has never been introduced to an iron. I really don’t say much as I am thinking really hard about my exit plan.
The waiter brings over the bread. I am so hungry my stomach is starting to gnaw on my spine. Hallelujah…I can put something on my poor tummy. While he rambles on about God knows what, I abruptly interrupt and ask, “Hey, when was the picture of you on the beach taken?” “Oh, about 10 years ago, but I really haven’t aged at all so I just keep it out there” he says.
I’m sorry. Did he really just say that? OMG! He DID!!! Dude admits to using decade old pics. So what do I do? What any self respecting, honest, fabulous woman would do. I lean in on the table, look him in the eye, and say “Baby, can I give you a little advice? Don’t listen to whomever is telling you such lies. Clearly they are trying to play a joke on you. You, my dear, certainly look 10 years older than your pics. Please take some new ones. Oh, and for the record, always check the weather before driving the motorcycle an hour to meet a lady for a first date.”
His mouth hit the ground. I polity smile and excuse myself to the ladies room. From the safety of the W.C., I can text Ursala and ask for the “SMAN”, Save My Ass Now, call. After the appropriate wait time, I return the the table.
On cue my phone rings. “Hello”, I answer. Ursala is on the other end acting as my sitter and there is some emergency with my child. Thank God for a good exit plan! Every woman must have one.
I look at him and say, “I’m so sorry I have to go now.” I casually get up and leave the restaurant and Mr. Road King behind. Poor bastard can take a cab back to his Harley. It may take 12 cans of air freshener to remove his BO from my car. GROSS!
After arriving home, I take a bubble bath and drink a tall glass of wine. Time to move on to the next victim so I log onto Match.com and complete a search. BAM…Search results #1…..My Ex Husband! Sigh…I call it for the night. I can’t take anymore failures for one day.
Moral of the story ladies – If you have to pick up a dude and he looks like an old smelly man, leave him on the curb and grab dinner with a girlfriend.