It's disheartening. Maybe I joined the wrong one, or maybe I live in the wrong place or century, but out of dozens and dozens of profiles, I only found two that interested me. I wrote to those guys and they didn't respond, so I started thinking maybe I was just being too harsh. Instead of holding my admittedly high standards, I could think the best of these men and maybe they'd be kind of cute and quirky instead of just fucking weird.
This guy wrote and wanted to meet. We wrote a few times back and forth. Call me crazy, but if someone doesn't put spaces in his texts, it's going to be annoying to be with him.This is what everything looked like,with no spaces where there should be.And his texts were long,telling me all about himself.Also no capital letters,but enough of that. Annoying.
I sent one text about me and he said it was troubling and did that mean we weren't meeting for lunch? Whaaa? And he wanted to meet for lunch at 11, which is my usual breakfast time, but ok, maybe he's an early riser. See how I started making it ok?
Also, his pictures make him look all puffy and old, which he's not. But he's an engineer by trade, and a builder, so I thought it might be interesting, someone so different from me who knows how the material world works and is old and patient. HA!
We met at a local restaurant. He had been waiting 1/2 hour and had his tablet with him. I thought, to kill time. To Cliff note this, he talked and talked and talked. Maybe because he is deaf-ish, he likes to talk, but also whenever I talked, he stared at me, reading my lips (he had forewarned that) like a cobra watching a mouse. He was super intense but much better looking, younger and fitter than his pictures.
I know about his former wife, his former girlfriend, their sex lives a little, his family of origin, his parents love of each other and wonderful sex life, his work life, the actual detailed design of two houses he built. He knows nothing about me, except he liked my "hippy" clothes in one of my pictures, which apparently gave him ideas, because after an hour, he asked, out of the total blue, "What do you think of camping?"
"I'm not much of a camper," I told him, which is true. I used to love it, but haven't in a long time. He went in to a whole long monologue, and did I mention he's French and has still a super strong accent after nearly 30 years in the USA so I had to either listen really hard (UGH, this was getting tiring) or zone him out completely, which was hard since he was staring at me like a cobra the whole time.
Sometime around in there, while he was describing the houses he built, I got a pretty good inner dialogue going. It mainly said, What the fuck am I doing here?
After I said I didn't camp, he told me the entire reason for this lunch was about camping. "I have even brought this" indicating the tablet "to show you the camper I think of buying. It is only one bedroom, really, so I am looking for a woman to go camping. We must be passionate, be in love, because it is really only one bedroom, just one box with a bed."
Yeah dude, I get it, I get it. "We're not making any agreements to go camping or anything else on the basis of one lunch," I told him, and in a huff, he got up, took his tablet and was gone.