“You’re late,” I said. “Again.” I put my hand on my hip and gave him a glare. It was a calculated glare: enough that I communicated that I was upset, but not so much that my face was all wrinkly. I posed with my hand on my hip. In my cute blue dress, I knew that I had to look pretty darn good, standing that way.
“It’s a big mall!” Doug said, looking away and smiling a nervous little smile. “I went to the other side, then had to drive around.” We were in a typical suburban mall. Not the Dallas Galleria, not the Mall of America. A typical. Freakin. Mall.
Excuses. I hate excuses. When I’m mad, I want someone to say, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” That’s all, that’s it. I’ll decompress and move on. But ONLY if I hear both of those things, and ONLY if it’s sincere.
Doug wasn’t saying either.
AND it was the second time in a row that he’d been late. AND the second time that he hadn’t apologized. Last time, he was 22 minutes late. This time, he was 10 minutes late. That’s 32 minutes of my life spend waiting, that I won’t get back.
“Here,” I said, handing him a movie ticket. I had invited him out and chosen the movie, so I didn’t mind paying. But I did mind waiting.
“Oh, you bought my ticket! When a girl buys, that means that she just wants to be friends!” he said. He was teasing.
I was NOT in the mood to be teased.
“Um, you should be grateful!” I said. “I wouldn’t buy your ticket if I didn’t like you.”
Doug ignored me and said to the ticket taker, “She bought my ticket. That means just friends, right?”
The plump young movie theater employee smiled his fake smile and said, “Other women buy the tickets. Why, just today, a woman slid her credit card to me, and ignored the guy who was trying to pay.”
Bless him for trying to be neutral.
I took a deep breath, determined to enjoy myself. After all, we were seeing Ant-Man, a Marvel Comic Movie. I LOVE comic book movies!!!
Even if I was with an ungrateful jerk.
Would it kill him to say, “thank you for the ticket”?!
Doug bought me a bottled water and himself a coke. We settled into our seats and he held my hand.
Things were going fine until he picked up his coke, drank it for a while, then put his hand on my leg. OMG HIS HANDS ARE F***ING ICE COLD! WTFH!!! I jumped and swatted his arm, pushing him away from me.
I didn’t hurt him. I wish that I would have.
“Oh, I guess my hands are a little cold, huh?” he asked. He put his hand to his face.
I definitely should have hurt him. Bastard.
The movie was good, but… “That is so wrong! The science wouldn’t work. It…” I began.
“Comic book science!” Doug said, cutting me off. “It’s comic book science.”
So much bubbled up inside me. I wanted to tell him about attractive and repulsive forces, theories I learned from Professor Mercury and from other classes. I wanted to talk about subatomic forces and what it would mean to shrink. Since matter could neither be created nor destroyed, the matter would need to be released (most likely as heat) or the bonds would store a great amount of energy.
Doug wouldn’t hear any of it. “At the race,” he continued. “There weren’t any stops, like there were at the Hotter Than Hell…”
Geez, he was like one of those Cross Fit guys, who wouldn’t stop talking about Cross Fit. I get that triathlons are a great achievement, but give it a rest!
“How was softball?” he asked.
Shocked, I almost dropped my water. “Good,” I said. “We won the first game by one point. The second game, we started strong, but ended up losing.”
He went back to rambling about the triathlon as though I hadn’t spoken.
I blinked. What just happened? He didn’t ask any follow up questions or give me a minute to continue. He didn’t ask me if I’d hit the ball or taken any bases.
He walked me to my car and we kissed good night.
Later, I called Gala Pear. “I don’t think he’s Fuck Ya,” I said.
“That’s fine,” she said. “I dated guys who seemed great, but I wasn’t into them, so I didn’t see them again. You have an intuition, and that’s ok.”
“Why is it that I need permission to feel the way I do?” I asked. Then I answered my own question. “I’m afraid that I’m getting jaded. I’m afraid that I’ll miss out on a good man. But, I’m also afraid that I’ll end up married to a guy that I’m not super into.” Like my ex-husband. Or my other ex-husband.
“It’s okay that you aren’t into this guy,” Gala said. “I get it.”
I love Gala! She’s awesome.
When I finalized my divorce (the second one), I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t get married again, unless I found the perfect guy.
That is, the Perfect Guy For Me. I know that I’m not perfect, and I know that the Perfect Guy For Me will have quirks, too.
But I also think that I’d be miserable if I dated someone who wouldn’t listen to me rant about how the science in the movie wouldn’t work. Hey, I paid good money to learn all about atomic radii and forces of attraction! Let me ramble for a few minutes before you cut me off!
I bet Professor Mercury would be interested in debating the theoretical probability of the comic book science. I would go even further to say that he’d likely discuss whether a giant ant would be possible, or whether the internal organs would collapse upon themselves from the weight. Anthropoids don’t have bones, you know, so they rely on their exoskeletons to support their innards.
Then again, maybe the Prof would tell me that it’s a just a movie, too!
So, to recap, I want a guy who is athletic AND academic.
Sigh. Maybe, just maybe, I want too much.
“You deserve more,” Gala told me.
God, I love my friends! Especially Gala!
Now, how do I break up with a guy, who I’ve only gone out with three times? And if I met him in person, would it be snippy of me to show up late?
These are the dating rules that Doug broke:
- Be on time. Being on time shows respect for the other person. After all, she could have chosen to spend time alone or with someone else; she chose to spend time with you. Show your gratitude and respect by being punctual or early.
- If you can’t be on time, apologize.
- If you apologize, be sincere. The best way to do that, is to say that it won’t happen again. Follow through is worth a million words; for every minute that you were late, be twice as early next time.
- Don’t put your blankety-blank cold hands on me.
- Even if I’m spouting science-y stuff that you don’t comprehend, let me ramble for at least a little while. Keep in mind that I let you ramble about stuff that I don’t understand or care about (i.e. triathlons that I didn’t attend and/or family drama that I’m not part of).
Good luck, fellow daters!