Married life can be challenging – but dating life can be just as tricky.
I recognize this evening as a non-starter before I even order my Sauvignon Blanc. I realize before my ass has warmed the bar stool. There’s no chemistry – no spice. I’m more interested in the cute, tattooed bartender (alas, wedding ring) than the man beside me. Before my first sip of wine, my date has managed to “casually touch” my thigh and arm a half-dozen times during conversation. I don’t need my body language decoder ring – I get it; you’re interested, now back off. Our tactile evening continues with me receiving a demo of his co-worker’s hugging techniques followed by an unsolicited and awkward one-handed back rub. He has unquestionably grabbed or stroked me at least three dozen times. Body language hint – if your date is slowly sliding away to regain her personal space, stop with the hands! Ten minutes into the conversation, he declares that he wants to “claim” me as his own and our next date should be in my neighborhood. Next date?! I’m squirming through this one – and I’m beginning to believe you’re stalker material as well. Okay…polite conversation, polite conversation; I can do this; just finish my wine and leave – fast. I’m out the door in 40 minutes flat – but he insists on walking me to my car. Please don’t try to hug, kiss, or molest me at my vehicle. Not surprisingly, I receive his text on the drive home: “Good night Sweetheart.” Sweetheart?! Disturbing.
Reaching the safety of home, I’m amazed I don’t bee-line for the kitchen and bake up a batch of David Lebovitz’s chocolate chip cookies. This type of dating debacle deserves an edible pacifier – a dozen warm, gooey cookies or even a chocolate cake with thick chocolate frosting – devoured in one sitting. I content myself with a 6” turkey sub from Subway. Probably the smarter choice, since the holidays have made their mark on my bathroom scale.