Give me a break, Jake (part two)

Date number two with Jake.  

So we decide to actually go and see a movie.  While I think a movie isn't always the best idea for a date, especially in the beginning of when you are dating someone, I agreed because I really wanted to see the movie.  Sad, but true.  

But he was running late (ladies, this is a red flag.  Unless there was a crazy car accident happening in front of their eyes, or they were run over by a reindeer...you should NOT be late for a date).  

Alright, so basically the minute he shows up, we need to run into the theater to see the movie.  We run up the aisle in the dark looking for seats, the theater is almost full and we are probably the last people coming in before the movie is about to start.  We see two seats open, and we just snag them.  But apparently, someone was saving a seat (there was a black sweater sitting there - we could not see it) and so we jumped out and ran to the next two seats open.  

Jake leaned over and said WAY TOO LOUDLY "are these seats open?" to an innocent bystander, and they shake their head like "no man, calm down, what the hell is wrong with you?"  

So for whatever reason, Jake just still stands there in the row of chairs blocking the view of the people behind us.  They were getting pissy, so I literally said "we need to sit down now" and shoved him into the chair.  Literally.  I grabbed his shoulders and shoved his ass into the seat.  Who gets confused about - oh should I sit in this chair?  A chair?  For a movie?  Is now the time I should be sitting down?  Wait, am I in your way, talking too loudly?

Ugh.  It was embarassing.  Everyone around us was giving us the "pfff" "psssh" "shhhhh" sounds around us until he stopped fumbling.  Eventually he shut up, after I told him "we need to not talk during the movie...."

JESUS.

During the movie... he could not stop messing with his fingers.  Rubbing his palms.  Rubbing his palms against his pants.  Messing with his glasses.  Looking at me, thinking I am not noticing.  I felt like saying "stop being a fumbling pervert and watch the god damn movie."  But instead I looked over to him, smiled, and pointed at the movie screen and turned my head back to the screen and didn't look at him again for the rest of the movie.

AFTER the movie, which was very good and I recommend everyone to see ParaNorman if you like great animated films, we walked around.

I am not kidding.  He doesn't know how to walk down a street.  People on the sidewalk were walking towards us, obviously people walk in different directions on the street.  Totally normal, a consistent part of everyday life.  Not for him.  He was acting like it was a game of Frogger.  Dodging people.  Hiding behind lampposts, mailboxes, and then just jumping behind a parked car.  He had no rhythm.  He needs some coaching.  For reals.  And last but not least, he runs into a sign.  Dead on.  Right in the center.  It was a construction sign.  I asked "did you just bump into that?"  His reply "yeah, whoops."  I asked "did you not see it?"  His reply "I saw it, but I couldn't get out of the way."  

He saw it clearly with yards still in front of him.  At this point with the volume issues, fumbling, social awkward nuances, and not being able to be OK with physical space...I thought he has to be some form of autistic.

While I have done my research and talked to several people about his "symptoms" it was very clear to me that he most likely has Asperger's.

And while he is a nice guy, I cannot take care of someone like that.  I've dated someone who was depressed with OCD tendencies, and that was a challenge.  I knew that this wasn't for me, and I cannot train and coach someone.  I want someone who can be OK with himself, and doesn't need "training."  

So c'est la vie.  I told him that I only saw him as a friend, and he said OK.  That was the end of Jake.  

Give me a break, Jake (part one)

Hey y'all.

Sorry for not writing sooner.  I think I need to make this at least a once a week type of thing.  And also, while dating stories are fun to write, there's more to life than writing about cray cray cavemen that live in California.  

But since I am many stories behind, I do owe you some more dating stories.  Here we go.

In my dating online endeavors, I met a guy named Jake.  We had been messaging each other for a few weeks, but he never made a move.  While he was funny in script, and while he had a chance to edit himself, he never asked "when can we meet up" or "can we chat on the phone?"  Now, I gave him a little credit, because he is a professional writer.  But enough is enough.  

So I asked him, Jake are we now penpals, or would you like to meet in person?  He replied something to the effect of: I like to get to know someone a little more before meeting up in person.  Well....I come from the perspective of meet-the-dang-human-in-person-and-see-what-you-think.  Why should I waste my time?  

Being sick of men calling the shots, especially when the shots they call SUCK I asked him for his phone number and suggested that we talk on the phone before we meet in person.  We then agreed on a time where we were both free to chat.

The conversation actually went pretty well, and he was a chatty fellow.  Asked a lot about my job and family, we both shared some stories about friends, yada yada.  So at the end, we decide to throw in the towel and set up a date.  He suggested this Italian restaurant not so far away, and I was looking forward to it.

I have been advised by my girlfriends to always dress it up a bit more for dates, casual-chic if you will.  Well, really wanting to blow it out of the water, I wore this black dress about down to my knees, and heels along with a black sweater.  Hair straightened, lipstick on.  I thought I looked pretty good, if I do say so myself.  Well, when I rolled up to the front of the restaurant this is what I saw:  cotton-material weird-green-colored button down shirt, awkwardly tucked in to his too-short-hemmed slacks with his socks and shoes not going with his outfit.  Now I try not to care tooooo much about what men wear, especially since who they are matters 100% more.  But if you can't get it together for a first date, it makes me worry a little bit of what you wear normally.  

He also wore glasses (something that wasn't advertised on his profile), he was also 2 inches shorter than he said, and there was just something... I don't know.  I couldn't put my finger on it.  He was physically awkward.  And to make it worse, when I waved hello to him while I was walking up to the restaurant, he gawked at me like I was Angelina Jolie/Jennifer Aniston/insert some hot celebrity here.  And I am not a hottie mchottster like those two ladies are.  Nobody is!  

So he was clearly attracted to me, and for me...not so much as far as physical attraction goes.  So I try to scale the conversation back and not be flirty at all.  I just tried to treat it as two friends who decided to get dinner.

As we are seated, the waiter says "bonna serra" and I return the sentiment.  Meanwhile Jake interjects an awkward nasal-sounding "hello" here and there.  He had no fun talking to the waiters in Italian.  At all.  It was a bit weird.  He ended up getting a salad with his dinner, and he looked like a 4 year old struggling with how to hold a fork.  He stuck a whole piece of romaine horizontally in his mouth, shoving it in his mouth with a taco.  Did he really have to do that?  Couldn't he have cut it in a small piece like a normal person who knows how to use a fork and knife?

On the table over the fabric tablecloth, there was a paper tablecloth.  Well he couldn't resist fussing and messing and crumpling and twisting that thing around his fingers.  It was really annoying.  I figured he was so nervous.  He also kept tensing his shoulders and leaning a bit to one side.  I was wondering what the heck is up with his back?  Is his chair not comfortable?  CALM DOWN!  

He also had some volume issues.  Spoke either way too loudly or not loud enough at all.  Random social nuances seemed to escape him.  It was weird.  He also dropped his knife and acted like a bomb had grenade had landed at his foot.  I casually handed him my knife telling him I didn't need it.

Finally dinner ended, no dessert thank god.  When we are walking outside, he said that he's catching the train home and I pointed out that my car was in the other direction.  I figured he would at least go in for a hug at the end of the night.  Well.  It was the most awkward goodbye in the world.  He saw that I was thinking about a hug, but he shook out his hand, then I put out my hand, then he went in for a hug, then I went in for a one-armed hug, then he backed away......soooo bad.  Finally I pulled him in for a hug, said "night" and walked in the other direction without looking back.

He called me the next day saying he had a good time, and that he would like to see me again.  Well, he was a very nice guy but he had some odd things going on, clearly.  But because he was a gentlemen and showed me a good time I guess, I thought "nice guys shouldn't finish last" and I agreed to go on a second date with him.  I also felt bad for being maybe too harsh too soon, and that I can't diss him for dropping a knife in a weird manner.  While I agreed to see him, I was still very hesitant.

To be continued.

The Dividing Line, part two

Where did I leave off?  Part 1 - Quick recap.

Date with Frank.  Met at wine bar.  He doesn't drink, in AA.  Had flirty eyes back and forth.  Decide to ride his motorcycle to nearby museum.  Hold hands.  Walk around.  Kissy kissy time in the park, and not caring if children are nearby.  Decide it's time to call it a night.  Gives me a ride back to my car.  Kiss goodnight.  Franks asks me out for a date asap.  I tell him I'm free Friday.  He says cool  Au revoir.

The Diving Line, Part 2 

Frank and I had been texting throughout the week saying how nice it was to meet each other, and that we are looking forward to Friday yada yada yada.  How are you?  How's work?  Things like that.  On Thursday he texted me asking what time I was off of work.  I said 6pm.  He said that he would pick me up near my work, and that he would take me out for a surprise.  He also texted:  "what's your favorite flower?  And I am asking this for no particular reason...  ;)"  So in MY mind, I think holy jesus I am getting flowers.  I hardly ever get flowers, woo!  

Think again, mon amie.

I then hear from him on Friday, asking me if I could pick him up from his place and then we will ride over together.  Kind of annoyed by this (solely because he was supposed to pick me up, like he said)....I decided to just brush it off as "whatever" and go with the flow.  While I am sitting in traffic getting to his place, I had to wait for his ass for 20 minutes because "he needed to shower and get some things together."  Really, Frank?  Really?  Not only does he come out 25 minutes late, but no flowers, and now I am apparently the chaperone for the evening.

He basically plays the role of TomTom or mapquest, telling me which way to turn.  Apparently the "surprise" was going to the beach.  Which was fine....but I was expecting maybe dinner?  Snacks?  Something food related because by this time it's nearing 8pm and I didn't eat dinner and I am HUNGRY.  And what happens when girls are starving?  Crankiness.  Crankiness up the ass, to where you just want to give us reese's pieces and call this place adieu.  We are like bears who hasn't caught a delicious srumdiddlyumptious trout in four days.  It's not a good scenario.

So while my tummy is rumbling and bumbling....I park the car, and we walk down the literal 100 steps to the beach.  When we finally arrive to the beach, there is this small inlet where the ocean is coming toward the shore, but it's in a very narrow skinny line.  It just struck me and I stopped to look at it, since the water wasn't overflowing on either side.  Frank notices me looking at the inlet and says "this is the dividing line."  And I said "what do you mean?  Is it more dangerous on this side?"  He said "No."  

Not really getting an answer, I decide to veer left, and he says "no, we are going this way."  So I correctly steer myself to the right, and I am not thinking much of that.

Boy was I in for it...

We decide to park ourselves on some "comfy" rocks.  This really means, rocks that aren't poking you on the ass as much, and it's quasi-flat.  So we are cuddling up on the rocks talking about the sunset and the birds and enjoying our outdoor space, and before I know it we are making out again.  And in the meantime, he starts unbuckling his pants.

Now call me crazy, but I did not see that coming.  So I asked "what are you doing?"  He replies a question with a question:  "Can I see you in your birthday suit?"

(now mind you, my birthday had just passed.... this "date" was supposed to be a birthday present....)

I quickly reply with an awkward 

SG:  "haha...but no" and then I said, thinking that this would definitely shoot him down "Plus, it wouldn't be happening here on this rock," to which he replies 

Frank:  "Well, I share a room with someone and we aren't allowed to have overnight guests, and I am used to have sex outdoors.  Also, I don't wear condoms.  I can't get off wearing them."  

At this point I am feeling that I really need an adult, and I am looking around the beach praying to lord baby jesus that there is a cop, a bum, or even a pelican at this point to help relieve me from this torture. 

So instead of feeling tortured, I decide to torture him back.  

SarcasticalGirl:  "You can't get off wearing condoms?  Why?  Well, I guess it doesn't matter...if I am with someone, I require the guy to wear one."

Frank:  "Aren't you on birth control?"

SG:  "Ever heard of STDs?"

Frank:  "Well I am clean..."

SG:  "Well, I would need proof of that too."

Frank:  "Well I don't wear condoms, so I guess you will have to make a decision about whether or not you can have sex with me."

SG:  "What did you mean when you said 'the dividing line?'"

Frank:  "Oh, the left side of the beach is normal, and this side of the beach is clothing optional."

He brought me to a nude beach?!  I could have killed him.

While he's saying this he is putting his pants back on (thank god) and I start running for the 100 steps back up to where my car is.  I have to give the poor a**hole a ride home, we carpooled and even though he is legitimately wrong and stupid, I cannot maroon him on the beach at 10pm in pitch dark with no ride home about 40 minutes away.

So I give Frank a ride home and he gives me a kiss on the cheek and says "call me when you're ready."

I deleted his phone number the minute he walked to is front door.  

Good god, please help the men in California...