Yeah, so I suppose you want to hear about my date with Harold the Geek. Well...
No bodily fluids were exchanged.
He didn’t try to convert me to
satanism the Republican party.
I felt like I was on a date with my Dad.
He politely asked me if he could “dominate the conversation for a minute”.
He looked like Ward Cleaver in his 1950’s Safari Felt Dress hat, which he chastely placed between us during the flugelhorn concert.
He kept genuflecting everytime we moved around in the church where the concert was held.
He referred to my hair as “stunning”.
He was 1 minute late picking me up and apologized profusely and said he had wiped his car dashboard off and then his hand was dirty and he had to get out a handy-wipe to clean it. And then for the rest of the night, anything that involved time was very important. The doors to the church weren’t unlocked on time? He noted it. The five horn-playing musicians were two minutes late starting? He noted it. The intermission was supposed to be 15 minutes long, but was 20. He noted it. Oy, I’m surprised we didn’t have to synchronize our watches!
He thanked me for going out with him about 3050 times.
He seemed very excited to introduce me to all his church-going cronies. Kinda like...lookie, I gotta girlfriend! And I actually felt a little guilty. Here he was all dressed up in a crisp white dress shirt, dress shoes, blue pants, vest, the aforementioned safari felt dress hat and I was slumming it in jeans, sneakers and a tee-shirt. I know...bad witty. I was disrespecting our date, I guess.
He offered to buy me a $20 CD of the musical group we were seeing. Wasn’t sure if there was a (wink, wink) price tag involved, so I said no. I kinda think there wasn’t though, since he looked and acted like Ward Cleaver and I’m not sure if sex was discovered yet when Ward was around.
He excitedly told me about the John Tesh music network on the radio and then we got to listen to Donna Summers singing disco on the way home. Woot!
On my part of the date, let’s face it, I haven’t been on one in a long time either. But I didn’t really think of this as a date. I had seen “A” that morning and he seemed rather annoyed that I had said “Yes” to Harold. But then again he was annoyed about absolutely everything I had done this week. Briefly, I’ve left the bakery department at the yuppie store now. I called in sick Monday...you know, since I was. “A” thought this was bad form, calling in sick so soon after getting hired, but hey, I was in severe pain, plus I was still wrestling with this damn sinus infection. I needed to rest. I was also still wrestling with several large decisions. 1) Whether to give notice at this apartment before I do something fatal to Clipper Boy. 2) Whether to stay at the grocery store and go to another department or try and go back to my old job. He hated the going back to my old job thing. I then got really angry and said “fuck” alot. It just wasn’t a real pleasant session.
So what did I learn on the date?
It was really innocuous. Was I really on a date? I kept wondering that as I was sitting listening to the concert, which was very good, by the way. I never really felt like I was “with” Harold. Everytime we walked anywhere, he always walked behind me. I didn’t mean to walk ahead of him. He just always kind of followed me.
I talked alot and it was about nothing, but that’s because he wasn’t talking. The one time he chose to “dominate the conversation”, he told me about buying a 32 inch wide globe and having to have his door widened to get it in the house. (did that sound sexual? Oh just me again) And then there was a long moment of silence. I guess it was my turn to talk again, since that was the penultimate moment of excitement in Harold’s life. Having a 32 inch globe delivered so he can spin it around and see all the places he’ll never go to.
I then saw a friend I used to work with at the concert, and I didn’t know how to introduce him. I actually almost forgot to introduce him. He was like invisible.
What do you say to a guy who keeps saying, “Thank you so much for going out with me.” About the fifth time he said that, I said, “Oh stop it.” I tried to say it playfully, but it was starting to make me feel both sad and aggravated. Like Harold, you really need to find yourself a woman who is of your ilk (Catholic and Republican). Not some artsy hippie chick who is shocked she didn’t spontaneously combust when she walked into your church.
And then the final walk to the door. As usual, I was about 5 steps ahead of him. I had my key at the ready. I didn’t want to be fumbling with the key and give Lord Geekiness any ideas about a smooch or a chance to ask for a second date. So I was practically inside my apartment before he even caught up with me. I just yelled thanks over my shoulder. And he said, “Thanks for going out with me” for about the 11,000th time and that was the end of the night.
And it truly was for me too. Because I went and laid on the couch for what seemed like a minute around 9:30 and then the phone rang and it was midnight. I had instantly conked out for 2 1/2 hours. Must be that damn sinus thing.
12 comments so far << | >>
upsy, downsy, upsy, splat! - 2010-05-22
April sours bring May flowers? - 2010-05-01
when finding a head in the recycling bin is the highlight of your month - 2010-03-28
fifty two chances to be awesome...ok maybe - 2010-02-20
its sorta like "Grease" except there's no musical numbers and I'm really old - 2010-02-05