Category 1: Those who fail to embrace their own reality.
Category 2: Those who think that women can’t keep their hands off of them.
This was yet another one-date wonder. I’m sure you can guess why from the title. He was a former body builder turned podiatrist. That in itself is chuckle worthy. His profile talked a good bit about his body building days. I am sure he was very proud of his overly large physique. He must have been since he had pictures on his profile of his competitions. You know, the typical enormous muscle bound, greased and posed body emerging from the tiny speedo. To his credit, he also had recent pictures of his less than muscle bound, older and thicker self.
I am not big on overly-big, body builder type guys. I like an athletic guy who is strong and manly, but there can be too much of a good thing. The reason I decided to go out with him was because in his profile, talked about his family, and his work. In emails and on the phone, he mentioned helping to take care of his aging parents and talked about how as a podiatrist, he worked mostly with older patients. He seemed genuinely sweet and smart.
We met for dinner at a seafood place near me. He lived about an hour away, so I appreciated that he was willing to drive to my neighborhood for dinner. When we arrived and met in the parking lot, he looked like his photo (and was big, but not overly-so, and much shorter that he listed in his profile), was polite and greeted me with a hug. I think the hug thing was more significant that I realized in the beginning. More on that at the end of the date.
We sat down to dinner, ordered drinks and I was about to embark on the typical first date small talk. Before I could open my mouth, he looked up from the menu and said,
“Wanna feel my muscle?”
Really? What does that mean? That question is just wrong on more than one level. That is hilarious. He is funny. These are my immediate thoughts as I almost fell out of my chair laughing under the impression that he was joking. In the midst of my hysteria, I looked up and he was not laughing. He looked a little perplexed at my response. It hit me that he was not joking. I’m pretty sure he actually thought I would want to feel his muscle.
Before I could recover my composure, he asked,
“Wanna feel my hair?”
Ok. Now I have no idea how to respond, especially since he stuck his head out toward me a little. I kind of gently patted him on the head and said something like, “Very nice.”
He looked a little disappointed. I felt a bit bad, but I still don’t know what the appropriate response should have been. Should I have felt his muscle (ugh) and his hair (double ugh) and ooohed and ahhed over his immense strength? I don’t think I could have mustered the sincerity to have that be believable. Should I have just said, “You are joking, right?” I may have bruised his ego even more. It seemed to genuinely surprise him that I didn’t jump at the chance to get my hands on him. Maybe my response did him a favor and introduced the possibility that every woman does not want to cop a feel on the first date.
We made it through dinner…and dessert. The conversation was somewhat forced, my fault I am sure, since I deflated him within the first five minutes. He walked me to my car where he hugged me goodbye. And hugged me and hugged me. I think the purpose of the hug was to determine what kind of shape I was in more than anything. He kept pulling me closer and standing back and repeating the process. It was apparent and disturbing to me that I was being analyzed. I thanked him, got in my car and the end. Or so I thought…stay tuned for Guys Who Forgot They Had a Date With You.
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