Mondays -- Part 2
Welcome back after intermission, sports fans! At the conclusion of the previous blog post, I had just started to introduce NDD, or "Newly Divorced Dad". Like his nickname implies, he is recently divorced and a dad.
Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious!
He is the same age as me, although technically 7 months younger almost to the day. Educated, articulate, and a teacher. Lives quite close to me, which is a nice bonus. And because I know some people at the school he teaches at, I was able to get a character reference before ever meeting him from someone I trusted, someone who I knew would tell me to steer clear if appropriate.
The trusted friend gave NDD a glowing recommendation.
We agreed that we wanted to meet. There was definite eager interest on both ends. But alas, a problem! It was Monday. I was leaving to go out of town early Wednesday morning and I was way behind on my preparations. What to do?!
Meet for drinks -- and dinner -- on Tuesday night. Duh.
Many cocktails were consumed, along with much Mexican food. Several pleasant hours were spent in each other's company, with fun and flirty conversation. And while we didn't want the evening to end, we knew I still had to pack to be gone for 5+ days. So the evening drew to a close with... a hug.
Yeah.
As we continued to text frequently during my trip, we quickly learned we had gotten some incorrect impressions of each other. I took the awkward ending to the date as his being unsure about how to do things in this day and age of dating. After all, it's been close to two decades since he was last on a date. He thought I was some conservative, possibly virginal, woman.
I'll wait while you finish laughing.
During my trip, the texting was frequent and, as to be expected (if you've ever read this blog with any regularity), turned intimate. A second date was set up for the day after I returned from my trip. Hundreds, if not dozens, of text messages flew back and forth trying to plan this date.
The man changes his mind more than any woman I know. Dinner! No, let's just do drinks. I went grocery shopping, let's grill. I'm leaning towards just cocktails. Do you like wings? I have wings marinating. Let's just do appetizers and drinks. And that's just the food part of the plan. I'm not even going to go into the numerous texts about drinks. But one thing was consistent throughout: it was going to be at his place.
*cue bad porn music*
So this was last night. I went to his house, we killed three bottles of red wine. He tried to teach me how to make a Manhattan and he attempted a whiskey sour for me. I brought a couple of appetizers, which he rated a 9.25 out of 10. We listened to music, talked, and then got to know each other even better.
Then came the comedy of errors. Or, the Bach Monday. His house has only a single car garage, and I parked in the driveway behind him. He had to be up early for work, but I was encouraged to stay as long as I wanted. "Stay all day, if you want." However, I needed to move my car so he could get out. I got dressed enough to do that, went out to my car, and CLICK. CLICK CLICK CLICK.
Dead battery, although at the time I thought it was my starter.
Being a stubborn woman, I figured his driveway was sufficiently sloped where I could roll my car back and parallel park it on the opposite of the street. I made it to the bottom of the driveway. Facepalm. Again, digging deeper into my stubbornness, I decided I'm strong and I could get it going. Which was partly true. I got it going. I could barely steer. My car ended up mostly perpendicular across his rather narrow residential street.
I went in and broke the news to him. Then I pulled out my car's 24 hour roadside assistance because I thought it was the starter and I have the fancy 10 year, 100,000 mile bumper to bumper we cover everything (except that) warranty. That was the most complicated roadside assistance call I have ever made. My VIN? Really? Anyway, the tow truck was dispatched and NDD went off to work. I went in to use the bathroom and just as I shut the door BANG BANG BANG on the front door. Local cops. "Ma'am, is that your car?" My battery was completely gone and my hazards had died. "Yes. I have a tow truck on the way." "How did it get there?" I explained needing to move it so "he" -- important clue! -- could get to work. The cop's partner missed the first part of the conversation, and being female and needing to assert herself she started asking the same questions, but in a less friendly tone.
Hey, it was 6:30 in the morning and freezing outside. I'd be bitchy, too.
But her partner quickly filled her in, explaining that "her husband" needed to get his car out. Yeah, no. The cops had to stay until the tow truck driver arrived. I wasn't getting updates from the dispatch center, so I called the tow company, where I had the most hilarious conversation with the dispatcher. Her computer wasn't letting her see street names, the cops had also called to verify my story, as soon as I called her phone was blowing up. She was trying to laugh through it all, and by the time our call ended the driver was there.
Digression. For whatever reason, tow truck operators find me irresistible. Even if they are married or whatever, they just love to chat me up. This guy was no exception. It's now 6:45 in the morning, the temperature is a few degrees above Antarctica, and he wants to have an extended conversation about everything. Dude, thanks for the jump, I want to go now.
Hell of a story, really.
So what does this mean for NDD? Well... the next day he texted that he wasn't sure he even wanted to be dating, blah, blah, blah. I called him out, since we had left it as FWB. "I don't know what you mean by friends." Really, dude? Have you never had friends? He's a hot mess. Great in bed, doesn't know diddly shit about what he wants in life. So, I went back to Tinder, which I'd really never left, and met ... the Doctor.
Gotta go to the next blog....
Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious!
He is the same age as me, although technically 7 months younger almost to the day. Educated, articulate, and a teacher. Lives quite close to me, which is a nice bonus. And because I know some people at the school he teaches at, I was able to get a character reference before ever meeting him from someone I trusted, someone who I knew would tell me to steer clear if appropriate.
The trusted friend gave NDD a glowing recommendation.
We agreed that we wanted to meet. There was definite eager interest on both ends. But alas, a problem! It was Monday. I was leaving to go out of town early Wednesday morning and I was way behind on my preparations. What to do?!
Meet for drinks -- and dinner -- on Tuesday night. Duh.
Many cocktails were consumed, along with much Mexican food. Several pleasant hours were spent in each other's company, with fun and flirty conversation. And while we didn't want the evening to end, we knew I still had to pack to be gone for 5+ days. So the evening drew to a close with... a hug.
Yeah.
As we continued to text frequently during my trip, we quickly learned we had gotten some incorrect impressions of each other. I took the awkward ending to the date as his being unsure about how to do things in this day and age of dating. After all, it's been close to two decades since he was last on a date. He thought I was some conservative, possibly virginal, woman.
I'll wait while you finish laughing.
During my trip, the texting was frequent and, as to be expected (if you've ever read this blog with any regularity), turned intimate. A second date was set up for the day after I returned from my trip. Hundreds, if not dozens, of text messages flew back and forth trying to plan this date.
The man changes his mind more than any woman I know. Dinner! No, let's just do drinks. I went grocery shopping, let's grill. I'm leaning towards just cocktails. Do you like wings? I have wings marinating. Let's just do appetizers and drinks. And that's just the food part of the plan. I'm not even going to go into the numerous texts about drinks. But one thing was consistent throughout: it was going to be at his place.
*cue bad porn music*
So this was last night. I went to his house, we killed three bottles of red wine. He tried to teach me how to make a Manhattan and he attempted a whiskey sour for me. I brought a couple of appetizers, which he rated a 9.25 out of 10. We listened to music, talked, and then got to know each other even better.
Then came the comedy of errors. Or, the Bach Monday. His house has only a single car garage, and I parked in the driveway behind him. He had to be up early for work, but I was encouraged to stay as long as I wanted. "Stay all day, if you want." However, I needed to move my car so he could get out. I got dressed enough to do that, went out to my car, and CLICK. CLICK CLICK CLICK.
Dead battery, although at the time I thought it was my starter.
Being a stubborn woman, I figured his driveway was sufficiently sloped where I could roll my car back and parallel park it on the opposite of the street. I made it to the bottom of the driveway. Facepalm. Again, digging deeper into my stubbornness, I decided I'm strong and I could get it going. Which was partly true. I got it going. I could barely steer. My car ended up mostly perpendicular across his rather narrow residential street.
I went in and broke the news to him. Then I pulled out my car's 24 hour roadside assistance because I thought it was the starter and I have the fancy 10 year, 100,000 mile bumper to bumper we cover everything (except that) warranty. That was the most complicated roadside assistance call I have ever made. My VIN? Really? Anyway, the tow truck was dispatched and NDD went off to work. I went in to use the bathroom and just as I shut the door BANG BANG BANG on the front door. Local cops. "Ma'am, is that your car?" My battery was completely gone and my hazards had died. "Yes. I have a tow truck on the way." "How did it get there?" I explained needing to move it so "he" -- important clue! -- could get to work. The cop's partner missed the first part of the conversation, and being female and needing to assert herself she started asking the same questions, but in a less friendly tone.
Hey, it was 6:30 in the morning and freezing outside. I'd be bitchy, too.
But her partner quickly filled her in, explaining that "her husband" needed to get his car out. Yeah, no. The cops had to stay until the tow truck driver arrived. I wasn't getting updates from the dispatch center, so I called the tow company, where I had the most hilarious conversation with the dispatcher. Her computer wasn't letting her see street names, the cops had also called to verify my story, as soon as I called her phone was blowing up. She was trying to laugh through it all, and by the time our call ended the driver was there.
Digression. For whatever reason, tow truck operators find me irresistible. Even if they are married or whatever, they just love to chat me up. This guy was no exception. It's now 6:45 in the morning, the temperature is a few degrees above Antarctica, and he wants to have an extended conversation about everything. Dude, thanks for the jump, I want to go now.
Hell of a story, really.
So what does this mean for NDD? Well... the next day he texted that he wasn't sure he even wanted to be dating, blah, blah, blah. I called him out, since we had left it as FWB. "I don't know what you mean by friends." Really, dude? Have you never had friends? He's a hot mess. Great in bed, doesn't know diddly shit about what he wants in life. So, I went back to Tinder, which I'd really never left, and met ... the Doctor.
Gotta go to the next blog....
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