I was chatting with Mike (not his real name) on an online dating site. He is witty and funny and seems to have all of the basic requirements down, IE he speaks English, has a job (his own business), and has transportation that has more than two wheels. Score, right?!
We discover that we both lived in San Francisco for a period of time, love 90's alternative music, have similar family values, and both share blue eyes. Conversation is going well enough to the point where he tells me that he would like to take me out on a date to a nice Italian restaurant. (My favorite food).
Over the span of a week we trade instagram accounts and I learn that he's an awesome singer and can play guitar (swoon) and has a love for Batman (my favorite superhero). Mike and I are also proud owners of Goonie t-shirts. The stars have aligned, my friends.
We are texting daily and are comfortable enough to have a few phone conversations. The chats are going so well that I feel comfortable enough to share with him some of my previous dating disaster stories. He assures me that he has had a few of his own terrible stories and is not down with being catfished. Speaking of catfish, I tell him a hilarious story about how one of my girlfriends was talking to a guy online that NEVER smiled in his pictures. I told her that was shady as fuck and something had to be up. She finally insisted the guy send her a photo of himself smiling and wouldn't you know it, the dude had a BROWN tooth. No joke. She got brown toothed! Moral of the story, request to see the teeth girls!
Anyway, back to Mike. The day of the date is fast approaching and I start getting nervous. I hate first dates and I hate fancy situations, so I request that we go to a more low-key bar type chain restaurant instead. Last thing I want to be worrying about is what fork I should be using. As it turns out, I WISH that my worries were as little as which fork I would be using because Mike sends me a picture of himself in a hospital bed. He got into a small fender-bender and had a previous back injury and needed to be checked out but was totally fine. Now that we have addressed that issue, let's talk about the serious issue, Mike is balding. Not like ok, we're in our 30's hair is receding, thinning, whatever, No, this is Homer Simpson status, Hair is dangling by a thread, or a strand, Stage 5 Baldy! Plus, he's still in his 20's. All of Mike's pictures that I had previously seen were of him in a hat or strategically angled to cut out the baldness factor. I'd been duped! Moral #2 of the story, request to see the hair.
For the record, I just want to say that I am not shallow. Ok, maybe I am, we all have our things. Physical attraction is important to me. If I can't picture myself having sex with you, then I certainly don't want to go to dinner with you... wait that sounds wrong, but I need that physical chemistry if I'm going to have a romantic relationship. I just do. For me the three things that I dig are Height (must be over 5 ft 10 to ride this ride), Hair (I like it full), and Teeth (I like it when they have all of them in their mouth, and preferably to be whitish in color).
I feel it important to note that I love a good bald man. Bruce Willis is on my top 5 list. There are plenty of sexy bald men out there that own that shit, Jason Statham, Ed Harris, Vin Diesel, Dwayne the rock Johnson, and L.L. Cool J to name a few. The point is, I am not attracted to the dudes that haven't come to grips with the fact that their hair is no longer on their head. Don't hang on to the stragglers, Let them go, man!
I didn't want to be a total asshole and give up on Mike just because he was severely balding. I mean he was still very good-looking with a hat on and even better, had an awesome and fun personality. Maybe I could help him. Like a chia pet. Either get some Rogaine or plugs or Shave that shit. Seriously.
So I hold up my end of the bargain, throw on some wedges and a cute romper and head out to the restaurant. Mike is already there and seated when I arrive. He's cute, (wearing a hat), and I am anxious, so I order a drink. Mike proceeds to tell me that he doesn't drink.... what guy is going to let a gal drink alone on a first date? Weird, right?
All of this is ridiculous and bizarre but I am slightly distracted at this point because Mike has moved closer to me and I can't help but notice that there seems to be something on Mike's tooth. Is it food? Oregano or some sort of spice? Should I tell him? Wait, where did the spot on his tooth go? Is it just the lighting? Wait!!!! That's more than just food. Is that some sort of dental problem?.... like a dead tooth?, like a brown tooth? Am I being BROWN TOOTHED right now?! Even after telling him the story about my friend? What the hell?!
While I'm sitting there wondering what's up with Toothgate, Mike changes topics to religion.... It's an uncomfortable conversation, mostly because Mike thinks he's right about everything. Mike seems to think he's God over here. The date debate is starting to get too heavy for me, so I say we should wrap up and head on out.
As we get up to leave, Mike steps off of the stair that our booth was perched on and we are EYE LEVEL. I'm 5 ft 3 and wearing 3 inch wedges, that puts me at 5 ft 6 for those of you mathematically challenged. And Mike and I are the same height. WTF?! His profile said he was 5 ft 10! I've just about had it with his shenanigans!
Mike walks me to my car and proceeds to ask me if I do drugs. I tell him no. He informs me that he doesn't either, he just smokes weed and takes pills and is working on stopping. It's just so hard for him because his best friends and his cousin who is glued to his hip 24/7 are pill popping stoners. So THIS is why he doesn't drink, he's too busy getting high to even bother getting drunk. I start to have flashbacks of him telling me that his business involves "sales". He just forgot to mention the illegal factor. I've had it at this point. I conclude that Mike is a balding, brown toothed, short, liar who does and sells drugs and hates tabloids. Fabulous. Get me out of this parking lot of BJ's! Please!
I remain calm and exit the date politely and as sweet as pie.
I get home and see that he texted me that he had such a great time and blah blah blah. I reply with thanks.
Maybe my message wasn't clear to him that I wasn't interested because the next day he texts me again complimenting me and talking about seeing me again. I inform him that I think he is a really nice guy but I'm just not feeling it. He texts back with "Yeah, totally, me too. Take care".
Easy as pie.
So long Mike. It's a bit disappointing that my first dip back in the dating pool ended up being with a dude that was nothing like he made himself out to be. Who knew Catfish survived in pools? And who knew Catfishes got confused by other catfishes? Must be the drugs... blurs those lines. Stay tuned for the next installment of the dating diaries. In the mean time, feel free to comment below with some of your own dating disasters.