You know that uneasy feeling when you’re in
the midst of a job interview that you thinking is going really well and the HR
guy interrupts to say, “All right then,…thanks for coming in”? I just felt it
again.
Only this time there wasn’t a job on the
line. Just another episode of dating. I’m a seasoned veteran of first dates.
I’ve been lucky to experience a few really good ones. I survived a few horrid
experiences. For the most part, I’ve sat through a lot of ho-hums. I’m not sure
I’ve ever had the chutzpah to cut the conversation in an instant and simply
indicate that I’ve had enough—I have other things to do…laundry, a run, a
little pre-planning for next year’s taxes.
Maybe this is why so many of my first-coffee
meetings last ninety minutes, even two hours. Maybe I shouldn’t take the length
of a conversation as a good sign. Maybe we just continue to talk because I
don’t have an exit plan and neither does the other poor sap. Hats off to Cody
for pulling it off.
Still, it’s an abrupt jolt when you don’t
see the end coming. It happened so fast that I can’t quite recall how it played
out. I’m pretty sure Cody got up while offering his closing remarks. Nothing you can say will make me linger any
longer. We both mentioned how we enjoyed the get together and, yes, maybe
we can get together again after Cody’s long weekend trip. Still, I have enough
sense to know that only one of us meant what he said.
I hate that kind of ending. When it’s
sudden and unexpected, I’m five steps behind the other guy’s processing of what
preceded The End. And, yes, I take it as a personal failure. I thought things were going well. I felt an
attraction. Weren’t we connecting?
Exit Cody, enter self-doubt. What did I do
wrong? How did I blow it...again?
I
must have talked too much.
I was
boring.
My
hair’s too big.
I’m
just old and tired looking.
And on that “old” line of thinking, I’m
left with a clear sense that I’m too old for this. Another date with nothing to
show for it other than another bruising. In that way, I’m more banana than
coconut. I should be thicker skinned but I just wasn’t made that way.
As Cody turned toward the door, I knew to
stand back. I retreated from the patio to return my mug to the plastic tub
inside. He was still in view as I hit the sidewalk. And, darn it, he was
walking in the direction where I parked my car. I couldn’t walk in his wake so
I turned the other direction, still stunned as my brain tried to figure out a
destination for my detour.
I came up with raisins. There was a bargain
grocery store a few blocks away and last time I stopped in I was surprised how
cheap the raisins were. So that became my mission. Yes, I needed to stock up on
jumbo bags of raisins. Somehow that made the end of the date feel that much
more humiliating. And because no one on the planet goes to the store just to
stock up on raisins, I grabbed a bag of ranch-flavored rice cakes to boot. I’m
not sure I’ve ever bought that item before, but let anyone else in the express
line conclude that the rice cakes were the craving; the raisins were simply an
economical extra.
I walked back to the car, certain that I’d
created enough distance between What’s-His-Name and me. I had tangible evidence
that my drive into the West End during rush hour wasn’t, uh, fruitless. Only
now I don’t just feel rejected; I’m downright kooky.
This endless cycle of first-round dating
takes a toll. The only good thing to come out of this latest come-uppance is
that I’ll be making a sizable donation to the food bank. It means another
shopping expedition because there’s no way I can just unload cheap raisins.
Weirdest. Date. Ever. And apparently it’s all
my doing.
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