Remember Date #6?
Welcome to another installment of My Single Male Friend Friday. This week’s eligible bachelor is none other Date #6 (although I’ve yet to get his permission to post a photo so you’ll just have to take me word on this one: he’s cute).
You may recall Date #6 from the early days of my Great Date Experiment. We went for drinks during Center City Sips and he was kind enough to meet me for lunch a few weeks later during My Worst Date to Date.
Date #6’s real name is the same as Date #7’s (which makes things both easier and more complicated at the same time) and unlike my previous Single Male Friends, he actually lives here in Philadelphia.
Even though we never really hit it off in terms of chemistry, we’ve kept in touch. He tells me about his love life, I tell him about mine and one of these days we really are going to make it to that Saturday morning yoga class…
In the meantime, he’s exactly the sort of guy that single women despair of ever meeting: he’s gainfully employed, he owns a car and his own home, he’s “evolved” enough to consider taking yoga (yet “manly” enough to swear me to secrecy on this account) and he’s a total gentleman. He’s also incredibly strategic with his online dating– he looks up women in other cities when he goes on vacation! Now why didn’t I think of that??? Last but not least, he’s always involved in some sort of home improvement project and in a city where half the men are too metrosexual to know the difference between a Phillips and a flat head, this is a major plus.
So what’s wrong with him?
Well, by this logic, I should also be asking what’s wrong with me. I like to think that if a perfectly nice girl (me) meets a perfectly nice guy (Date #6) they should get just married and live happily ever after but as the majority of you have probably figured out by now, I like being single (this business with Date #7 notwithstanding) and chemistry is hugely important to me.
But today’s not about me. Today is about Date #6, and after we met for drinks at the Double Tree last week, I think I’m beginning to understand why he—and so many men like him—are still single: they’re too nice.
Because let’s face it ladies (and gentlemen) we don’t really want nice guys, do we? Men who send birthday cards and Valentine’s gifts and all sorts of unsolicited niceties are almost immediately dubbed “too eager” and subsequently rejected. (Having “been there, done that,” this one of those rare times when I actually know what I’m talking about).
Of course, it’s much easier to recognize overzealous behavior in someone else—or in yourself approximately six months after you’ve wasted all sorts of time and energy on mailing gifts of the thoughtful and well-wrapped variety to various corners of the world—not that I would know anything about that…
Anyway, as I sit there drinking my chocolate martini and listening to Date #6 tell me of his attempts to woo his most recent love interest, it’s all I can do to keep from blurting out the obvious.
Thankfully I don’t have to: he already knows.
Then again, we almost always already know, don’t we? Hindsight never kicks in until it’s too late—until those made-from-scratch-chocolate-meringue-cookies have already been shipped to the UK, until those stupid hand-made Valentine’s have already met with their surprised and somewhat embarrassed recipients.
I know I said I wasn’t going to talk about myself today—I’m supposed to be talking about Date #6!—but what can I say? Drinking martinis with a fellow online dater is essentially the same thing as looking into a mirror. Granted, I’m a girl and Date #6 is a guy but desperation, it turns out, is an equal opportunity employer.
(Love is blind, and all that…)
So in lieu of another question about your blog reading habits, I’d like to ask about your most desperate moments. Surely I’m not the only who spends more time at the post office than I do at the gym? (And if I am, is there at least hope for me?)
PS: A great BIG thank you to everyone who commented yesterday 🙂
10 Responses to “Remember Date #6?”
OH Kat! I love your website, it’s packed full of goodies and your entries are fabulous! 🙂
I don’t know how many times I’ve explained to my fellow friends and family that, I, cannot date a NICE guy. I need that edge, those tattoos and that motorcycle to keep my interest.
Perhaps someday I’ll learn? (or not) 🙂
I hope it’s the edge and not the treating you poorly or carelessly that’s interesting. An edgy tattooed guy can still be good and kind and treat you well.
I used to be terribly romantic and too nice when I was young. For example: I would make heart circles around the word “we” in the letters I wrote or in passages I clipped to appear more artistic. I would pick wild flowers or give a fake rose (symbolic for a love that cannot die), and I’ve even been known to make a doll in the others image as a gift. I thought this was a creative way of showing how attentive I was to detail.
After a few too many awkward moments, I one day just stopped all romantic efforts and now I’m with my perfect someone who would melt if I did any one of those silly things (maybe I’ll attempt to make another doll and see what happens).
However, I must admit I smile when one of my past lovers writes to tell me how much they miss me and ask if I’m still single. I just think, “too late.”
As I have not been INSPIRED to reply to your earlier questions.. THIS ONE has my interested completely Focused…
I will admit my act of complete desperation was many years ago, so I can at least blame it on my youthful ignorance, but ALAS it was still an act I am completely embarrassed of to this day… And if I ever share the same social space with this person again, I am likely to pass out of embarrassment long before the “How have you been?” questions can begin.
I was young, in love, completely head over heels in complete convinced bliss that this GUY was IT. The one, the worth the wait, who was going to make all my single girl fantasies come true. So when he ever so politely tried to break up with me prior to returning to duty with the ALL to classic “Your just too good for me, I don’t deserve you” speech; I could not be deterred. So at least a dozen letters (yes hand written letters) later, I was inspired by a SONG, that I COULD NOT keep to myself and made the equivalent of a MIXED TAPE (anyone remember those) and sent it off into the great unknown. It was sappy, it was romantic, it was country, it was GARTH BROOKS for heavens sake.
Alas there was NO reply, no response, no contact… And if I didn’t have one of those letters stuffed away in my unsent correspondence scrapbooks; I wouldn’t have such a STABBINGLY good reminder of my desperation… sent out into PUBLIC.
Ahhh the horror, the humiliation, the DESPERATION that I felt in performing those acts so way back when. This done in complete violation of “He’s just not that into you” belief that when a guy is DONE… he’s done. Let him go… No amount of letters, begging, pleading, romantizing, or cooking (I think I sent him cookies) will change his mind. Such an embarrassing lesson learned.
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I echo Fiercely FIERCELY!!
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