Tic & Tock

So the guy that got lost in the parking lot. Ability to follow directions apparently is not the least of his issues.

I know this sound horrible. There are probably many, many lovely, kind-hearted, hard-working deserving people with this issue. I just don't want to date them. So when I met up with Mr. Has a House at Jay Peak the first 29 seconds were very promising. Then it started.

The TIC. Yes, every 30 seconds his head jerked to the right. I thought maybe it was just nervous jitters but over the next 90 minutes, I could set my watch by the nervous tic.

Other than that, he was a nice guy. Not bad looking, common interests. But damn, I couldn't get past the tic!

I immediately called Loyal Reader Michelle. She proclaimed indignantly, "he should have told you about this before you met up." I rolled this around in my mind for a while - how do you bring this up? I for one sometimes tap my foot incessantly. Does that warrant a pre-date disclaimer?

Or maybe dating sites should add to their checklist of physical attributes (height, eye color, hair colors, etc.), type of verbal or physical deficiencies, including fetishes (see earlier blogs).

When I pointed out that no one in their right mind would admit to this pre-date, she insisted that once we met up he should've offered up an explanation for the tic. What, bad parenting? Dropped on head as child? Liberace? What?

Then I remembered a promising candidate from 2007. He lived close by, tall, dark, handsome, into bodybuilding, and when we reached the point of talking by phone, there it was - the verbal tic. Every 30 seconds a pronounced TKKK would interject his speech. Dumbfoundedly, I agreed to meet him, then cancelled by email.

This gentleman and the previous are both from Maine - could it be from the drinking water? Potatoes? Lobster?

Meanwhile, Mr. PAL (Pathetic Aging Lothario) continues to make surprise appearances. I tried to get him to commit to an activity 48 hours in advance, at which point he inquired, "why, are you moving?" I don't know, seemed funny at the time.

So ... The John Tesh Radio Hour last night recommended talking to 10 people every day as the way to meet someone. As long as none of them are from Maine, it might work.

To Ski or Not to Ski, Like It's Even a Question

I recently ended a relationship with someone after he displayed such a lack of understanding of my beloved sport of skiing, that I could not look him in the eye, let alone be seen in public with him.

We went to go night skiing together, me and his two kids. He claimed to be a skier, although one who hadn't gone in a few years.

He showed up with his own ski boots but could not get them on his feet. I suggested he rent boots because (to my untrained eye) CLEARLY his boots did not fit. Even after he sprayed WD-40 on his FEET (not kidding).

He proceeded to strip off his socks and try to stuff his bare feet into his undersized, cold boots. At this point he proclaimed our watching him was making it impossible to get his boots on and we should leave.

He tells me his 7 year old daughter is a good skier so I should take her up on the beginner slope when he continues to shove his feet in the boots.

I get her up on the slope only to discover she is terrified and shocked to have her parent send her up the scare-lift with a perfect stranger (my having only met her once before).

So ... ski patrol finally comes over and helps us both down, as she is frozen in place. We meet her now-shod father at the bottom. It is about 5 degrees and he has no googles or hat.

I realize I am hoping no one I know sees me with this guy, with his sockless feet, frightened child and hatless head. I guess skiing is a non-negotiable rule in the dating game.

Cosmic Scream

I need to get a lot of work done today so I really need to get out a blog equivilent of a cosmic scream while also sharing the latest Dating Chronicles of the Damned.

So here goes. My "offline" efforts continue albeit with no greater success than the virtual kind.

My newest blog fan (and since this is an anonymous blog, let's call her "Voyeura" - ha! that's funny) recently suggested I try to hook up with an old boyfriend of hers who happens to work with me.

Now I have not talked to this guy for more than 5 minutes in the 5 years I've worked here. So imagine his surprise when I put gave him about 30 minutes of my full-on flirtatious best at the local watering hole apres-work. Said conversation ended when he said, "Heading home to my girlfriend now! Good night!"

Special note to Voyeura - please, only recommend former boyfriends who lack live in spouses and girlfriends, ok? Although I admire your spunk in suggesting I cut her brakelines.

I've also continued to waste my time, excuse me, date, another local guy, or as I like to call him, Mr. Like-Nailing-Jello-to-a-Wall. We went out a few times last week but the fun ended Saturday night when he left the bar we were at together WITHOUT TELLING ME.

Yes, it's true, Mr. Can't-Get-Out-of-His-Own-Way said "I'm just going to get another beer" and proceeded to LEAVE the building.

Those of you familiar with the bar at the ski area where I work can appreciate how small this place is and how desperate Mr. 50-Year-Old-Pathetic-Lothario must have been to depart my company in this manner.

But as my friend Cindy likes to say, I'm always game. Within 15 minutes of Mr. What-Was-I-Thinking burning rubber out of the parking lot, someone else asked me out to dinner for the evening. We had a blast. Sure, he lives in Arizona and was only in town for the weekend, but frankly, I think I have better long term prospects with that guy than what's-his-face. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Meanwhile, I am still talking to a few guys online. One has a ski house up by Jay Peak - quite possibly his sole date-able attribute. He was the one who got lost in the parking lot of the closed restaurant (see earlier post). Then there's the guy who offered to send me a photo of his toolbelt, this to a woman who would like nothing better than a man to shovel, sand and repair the house that is rapidly disappearing under northern New England's biggest winter snow pack EVER.

PHEW! I feel better now.

Back to the Future

OK, starting last fall I swore off online dating and decided I would rely on the tried-and-true barfly method of meeting men. The results have been mixed, as have been the drinks. 10 pounds and cirrhosis of the liver later, I am back in the saddle (so to speak) and trolling bulletin boards and dating websites again.

Much like a fisherman lives for that tug on the line, I "caught" two prospects last week and shockingly had both ask me out to dinner after an initial conversation. Neither seemed psychotic nor needy (apologies to "Cowboy", the third one who also asked me out who didn't pass this criteria) so I set a time and date to meet up with each.

Bachelor #1 suggested a restaurant mid-way between us that ended up being closed on Mondays. We talked over the weekend and decided we would instead meet at a restaurant that was actually OPEN on the day we wanted to meet up. I never heard from him again so I went to a Pilates class instead Monday night. 25 Downward dogs, 10 planks and 15 triceps push-ups later, I checked my cell phone to discover he is sitting in the darkened parking lot of the closed restaurant, calling me to ask me where I am.

He calls 3 times, not leaving his phone number in any of his messages. I call the restaurant but no one answers because (yes) it is closed. So the IQ section of the test was not passed - but subsequent groveling and apologies by email since then may make me reconsider depending on how it goes with Bachelor #2.

#2 unfortunately lives 90 miles away - we were to meet up tonight but a pesky ice storm made me cancel. A year ago I drove through a blizzard to meet with someone who also lived in the hinterlands - refer to earlier post for details. And I don't want to risk my 1998 Subaru for what is at best a 50/50 proposition.

Tomorrow night is Local Yokel night at the ski area where I work. Boston's Tip O'Neill once claimed all politics is local -- if he were single and alive today, he might say the same thing about finding a date.