This blog is an update to “The Quandry” posted on
08/25/2012, so if you haven’t read that one yet, I encourage you to do so. Go ahead. I’ll wait….
At the time that I wrote that previous blog, I skipped a
portion of our conversation due to my perceived lack of relevance to the
story. Ultimately, it did become
relevant so I will have to back up a minute and fill you in:
During our original meeting, somehow
the topic of vacation homes was brought up.
He stated that he was on the look-out for a home near the beach where
his parents live in a different state. I stated that I was hunting for one
near my parents’ beach house as well, which ended up being not too far away from his parents’ home. (See? Doesn’t seem real relevant does it?)
So when he called me a bit later to ask me to the ballgame (and
informed me of the many girls that he dates), he brought up the fact that he
had found a home very close to his parents and that he was looking for someone
to invest in a property with him. He then began a small “interview process” to
see if we might be compatible business partners (Wait. What?). Call me a cynic (it’s okay, everyone else
does) but I barely know this guy and he is “interviewing” me for an investment
opportunity?
He begins his interview with the question “are you a
clean/neat person?” I answer that
cleanliness is a relative term and that if you were to ask my friends with kids,
they would probably say that I am. However, if you were to ask my mother (a certified
clean-freak) she would probably say “No”.
He goes on to say that we would have to agree on which dates/weekends
each of us would get use of the place (of course, this is after he had already
informed me of his other two women, and all I can think of is that I would have
to anti-bacterial all of the counters each time I went there for fear he was
banging some girl in the kitchen).
He continues, “So ummm…let me ask you, your voice sounds a little scratchy. Do you
smoke?” “Yes. Yes I do.” (I wanted to follow this answer up with the fact that I do an incredible Kim Carnes impersonation of “Betty Davis Eyes” but thought better of it.)
He continues, “Do you smoke in the house?”
This seems like a legitimate question for a potential
housemate so I answer, “No. I do not
smoke in my house.”
Next question: “So
you don’t smoke in your car?”
Huh?? What the hell does my car have to do with this?? But I answer anyway, “Oh no, I totally smoke
in my car. I drive around all day for a living. My car is a rolling ashtray.”
At this point, fully expecting his next question to be if he
can see my financial portfolio, I changed the subject. Basically, I have no interest in sharing my potential beach
house with anyone; as I have stated before, I am not a good sharer.
Saturday night I am out with some friends and my phone rings:
it’s him. I let it go to voice mail
because (1) I am out; and (2) even if I were home I wouldn’t have answered it
because it’s Saturday night and I wouldn’t want him to KNOW that I was home on a Saturday night. When I get home, I check my voice mail. His message goes something like this, “Hi Gina. I don’t remember whether you said
you like baseball or not, but I have these two tickets for tomorrow’s game and
I was wondering if you’d like to go?”
Seriously dude?? We had a 10 minute
conversation about my disdain for baseball and your disdain for country line
dance which you compared to my disdain for baseball and you can’t remember
that? Clearly I have left an
impression.
It was late so I answered via text:
Me: I was the one
that wasn’t too keen on baseball. Thanks anyway.Him: Oh ok. Thanks.
Me: No problem. So
just out of curiosity, are you having a hard time keeping all of the girls
straight?
Him: No, Smarty pants. Just was hoping not to go by myself.
Me: I gotta be honest.
I have heard from you twice in 3 weeks and both times it was to find out
if I would accompany you to a baseball game so you “didn’t have to go alone”. Not incredibly flattering.
Him:
Good point. Sorry but I normally go with my daughter and she has to get ready
to go somewhere… (blah, blah, fucking blah).
I do remember now asking you before and
not at the last minute and you did mention not liking baseball. Good night.
Me: Night
Him:
You know the truth is I do have a lot of women that I see but when she said she
couldn’t make it earlier today it didn’t cross my mind that I had invited you
to another game. (Gee, thanks) I just was interested in taking you to something that
meant something to me and didn’t think. Guess that’s selfish of me. Not
intentional to hurt you. Sorry.
Awww. Poor forgetful little martyr. Let's get down to nuts and bolts...
Me: It’s
ok. The ball game thing isn’t a huge deal. I am just not the kind of woman that
chases a man. Call me old fashioned in
that regard. I thought I saw something, interest in both of our parts during
our appointment. So I pursued it, which I rarely do, and I don’t feel it’s very
reciprocated. Clearly you are busy, I
get that. But it’s one thing to be busy
with work and volunteer stuff and quite another to be busy with a bunch of
different women. I don’t stand in line
well and frankly, I don’t have to.
And then he finally gets honest:
Him: I
was interested up until I asked you if you smoke.
Now, I actually knew this and I have no problem with
it. I myself have certain standards (like
not dating a guy with 9 other girlfriends) and I don’t fault others for having
them too. But I will tell you this: if and
when I ever figure out how to quit this stupid habit, it will NOT be to get a
man. It will be for ME. Furthermore, why didn’t he just say this during our original phone conversation? Was he trying to keep his options open for a potential ballgame buddy? It really chaps my ass that I am not good
enough to date but I am good enough to be company to a ball game “so he doesn’t
have to go alone” because his 27 other women don’t want to go with him either. Nice,
dude, real nice.
Me: I guessed
that. Full disclosure is a lovely thing.
Him: Never mind. See ya Gina.
Me: Or not.
Admittedly that last comment was kind of a dick move on my
part, but I had had enough.
Anyway, problem solved. 