Ribbit Ribbit

I sip my tea and watch the storm pass from the cafe window. He's already ten minutes late -- most likely because of the weather, but I'm half-wishing that he won't show up. I'm actually having a nice zen moment here, by myself, sipping my peppermint tea. I could even write here...

The door opens and some of the rain gushes in, and he enters. Wet. I waive and do the perfunctory smile, because it would be mean to let him scour the place and try to pick me out of the crowd. He sees me, and then motions that he's going to order a drink at the counter before coming over. I nod.

Take your time...

I look back out the window at the rain gushing down. Sewers overflow. Cyclists are being forced to take cover under small overhangs on various store fronts. Cars swerve on the road because they are unable to see the white lines.

I stare out the window a bit more, and the rainy intersection fades into various scenes of past first dates; missed connections, and romantic encounters fraught with pending failure.

"Hi" he says a little too enthusiastically for my liking, and sits down across from me. I smile, but I already know that very instant that I'm not attracted to him.

Give it a chance...

I try not to compare him to all the qualities I did like about my Ex that he doesn't have, or the Ex before him, or all the men I've dated in general. My mind wanders and I start to try to calculate just how many bad first dates I've had over the past 20 years or so? Could this possibly be #157?

Sigh.

"Hi," I say back. He's dripping with rain. This bugs me. I try to focus on something positive and notice that he has lovely eyes.

"Did you want to maybe take a moment, and go dry yourself off?" I say, and point towards the restroom. It really is bothering me that he's sitting there drenched.

"I don't know what I can do to fix it," he says.

Sigh. Useless.

"Don't worry, I just didn't want you to feel like you had to come right over here and chat...seriously, feel free to take a moment and dry yourself off. I won't mind." I say again.

But he shrugs his shoulders and starts the small talk. I notice that his voice is unusually high for a male, and I start to wonder if perhaps he may be gay? I try my best to listen to him -- after all, we're stuck here until the storm is over; and at the very least, it's a conversation with someone new.

Five minutes into it I want to rip my teeth out of my mouth to quench the boredom. There's no chemistry. He doesn't get my jokes. I'm pretty sure he's three to six months away from leaping out of the closet.

Just then -- lightening strikes the bank across the street.

"Did you see that!?" I say, and stand to see if I can get a better look. It was riveting. Shocking.

He doesn't budge, and simply says "Yes," as if I had asked him a question on a multiple choice exam.

I'm officially on a date with Rain Man. Boring, Repressed Homosexual, Rain Man.

Sigh.

I hate Internet dating.

The storm clouds cause the outside to have an evening-like darkness, and so I catch a glimpse of my face in the window. The reflection is primarily washed out by the bright lights inside the cafe; but I take an account of my face and how it hasn't change too much -- despite the weight gain.

I turn my attention back to my date and estimate that it is another 20 minutes or so before the storm passes.

Not much longer now...

I try to be compassionate towards my date -- despite the obvious lack of compatibility or shared interests. Maybe he's just being polite too? Or maybe he's so deep in the closet that he might actually think this date is going well?

I'm smiling.

Maybe I shouldn't smile so much so he doesn't misinterpret where I'm coming from? But I shouldn't censor myself should I? I'm just being me. I don't owe this person anything. There are no guarantees that I'll like him; or want to have a second date.

Maybe he's just riding out the storm as well...

My phone rings; but I don't answer it. But then it rings again. I see the call display and notice that it's my friend. I apologize and tell him that my friend is probably trying to confirm plans because I'm suppose to meet with her afterwards.

I ask him if he minds if I call her back? Normally, I wouldn't even answer the phone out of politeness ~ but since this date has a shelf-life of less than 20 minutes, I've decided to not be on my best behaviour. It's pointless, but I don't have any animosity towards him. It's circumstantial. He's just a harmless atom bouncing around the Universe trying to make some sort of connection. But since it won't be with me, I'll steer clear and let him continue on his way.

The storm isn't letting up; so he offers to get me a refill of my hot water while I call my friend back.

"Something bad happened," she says in a dry tone. I laugh. It's a classic line from Sex and the City.

"Well..." I tell her, "my ass is kinda stuck here until this storm lifts."

We make plans to meet at a bar in about 30 minutes and I'm off the phone by the time he comes back with my tea.

Nice guy. But we have nothing in common. And he's most likely gay.

As he sits, I notice a glimmer of sun peeking out in the horizon behind the dark clouds. I tell him that I think the storm is over, but he doesn't seem to care.

"I have to leave in about 20 minutes," I say, as I put my phone in my purse. "I'm suppose to meet my friend."

He nods. We finish our drinks and have some more boring misdirected conversation. I look around the cafe and notice a hodge podge of mismatched couples having polite conversations.

I'm in some sort of dating purgatory for the lost and hopeless.

But at least you're putting yourself back out there. It's hard to move forward...you have to kiss a lot of frogs...

I look at my frog, and gesture that the storm is over and it's safe for him to hop back into the bog. He stands and walks me to the door. I don't even extend my hand for a shake when saying good bye. A simple waive and 'nice to meet you' will suffice.

And with that, I turn my back on another bad date. But this time I laugh, because it is kind of funny -- and no real harm was done. My guardian angels almost got it right; he looked good on paper, and he wasn't bad looking -- if you didn't count the ultra-feminine voice.

I walk down the street avoiding puddles, and extend my hands in the air in a desperate plea towards the heavens or whoever is watching over me, and yell; "Almost...so close...just next time -- not GAY, and not BORING!!"

I'm pretty sure they heard me. I'm hopeful for my next encounter. Besides, no one has ever died from a bad first date...at least not that I know of.

Aerosmith - Dude Looks Like A Lady
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