True Confession Tuesday III

In which our heroine learns a valuable lesson. . . .

(  TCT 0, TCT I, TCT II)

Now, when T. first suggested that we join Match.com, I was reluctant. I was pretty happy with my life, after all. I didn't need a boyfriend. I still wasn't even sure that I wanted one. And I busily assured everyone (because T. had mentioned our new activity to everyone we worked with) that I was perfectly capable of meeting men on my own. I had, I'm embarrassed to say, a rather snotty attitude about Match.com. Sure, it was fine for other people, but I didn't need any HELP meeting people.

Karma for this attitude showed up in the form of Kenny.

The school I taught at was one the few remaining schools that had a working kitchen. The "lunch ladies" actually cooked the food. I always got along with them, but I was really surprised when one of them came down to my classroom during my planning time. Especially since she was giggling. A single mom with two kids and three jobs, S. wasn't much of a giggler.

"Do you know the milk man?" she asked.

I was really, really, confused about this apparent set-up for a bad joke. I'd been expecting to hear that one of my students had gotten into a fight in the lunch line, or that her daughter was selling Girl Scout cookies. "Do you mean the guy who delivers the milk to the school?" I clarified.

"He wants to go out with you. I promised him I'd ask you for your number because he's too afraid to ask you himself." She giggled some more.

"Are you serious? I don't even know who he is," I replied. I thought I knew, because there was a kinda cute guy that I saw in the delivery area often, but I wasn't sure.. Turns out the cute guy delivered the food.

"Well, his crush on you brightens my whole day. I've been trying to convince him to make a move for months." She giggled again at the cuteness of it all.

Two thoughts occurred to me: One, I could meet men without even trying. Two, what kind of loser would find me intimidating? I had to know. I gave S. my phone number.

The milk man called that night. He seemed to have me confused with Drew Barrymore, for all the compliments he heaped on me. I asked him, sort of jokingly, if he had me confused with one of the other teachers. He described my outfit that day perfectly. Too I didn't remember seeing the cute guy that day. Still, I agreed to go out with him. He seemed nice, more grown up than 21 year old and more sure of his feelings than Freakboy.

So we went out. He lived WAY out in the country and drove for two hours to take me out. That was pretty flattering. And he paid for everything. That was pretty nice. But his two topics of conversation were my attractiveness (boring, even for someone like me who's not used to such things) and his daughter (which would have been fine, except that I found out that the three year old's mother was 20 and milk man was a few years older than I was and the situation just seemed skeevy). That was pretty awful. And then he tried to insist that we go on a carriage ride on the Plaza, even though I find the horses depressing. He actually seemed to be pissed that I didn't want to go on the carriage ride. Alarm bells went off in my head. Finally I escaped to the bathroom and called my friend Mimi, and she and her boyfriend "accidentally" ran into us. Thank God.

It was the worst date ever. The following Monday, I received roses from Kenny thanking me for the BEST date ever. I filled out my Match.com profile at lunch.

Hours after joining Match.com, I had twelve messages from apparently normal men in the Kansas City area.

I thanked Kenny for the flowers and told him I didn't think it would work. He begged me for another chance. It still didn't work. I played the friends card and began replying to Match.com messages.

(Kenny recovered. He now delivers 7Up. He was living with someone the last time he called me.)

True Confession Tuesday II

Like the Roman Numerals? I'm going to see how many I can remember before I have to Google them. Also, even though I'm on the third installment of how I (eventually) became Mrs. Hot Guy, this is only the second time I've done it on a Tuesday. If you'd like to join in, write a post on your own blog and leave a comment so I can link to it. Or you can just confess in the comments.

Episode 1

Episode 2

I decided to tell the whole saga to A, the older, happily married custodian at the school where I taught first grade. After my fifteen minute long diatribe, during which A. could have being doing better things like leaving for the day, he was kind enough to smile. And then he said, "Do you mean to tell me that an attractive, educated woman such as yourself can't do better than a freak and a child?"

Hmm. That certainly put things in perspective. And after he told me that six or seven more times, as Freakboy  acted like a boyfriend one day and a pal the next and 21 year old showed himself to have both the personality and IQ of a Labrador, I finally realized he was right. Freakboy and I became STRICTLY friends and I only talked to 21 year old on the phone when he called me. As summer school ended, A. made me promise that I would use my time off wisely.

Hehe. Thus began the season of dreadful dates. There was D., cute and intelligent, his only flaw being his obsession with his ex-wife. I realized it was getting to me when spending the night watching Law and Order seemed preferable to going out on a second date. Then there was Mark, who did not ask me one question all evening and then complained that I didn't talk enough. There was also Joe, so sweet and thoughtful it was like going on a date with my best friend. My best girl friend. From fourth grade.

I gave up when football season started, spending my weekends watching games with my friend Mimi, flirting with her boyfriend's friends (who were all married or alcoholics) in a desultory way. I did some volunteer work and some tutoring after school. I began going dancing a lot (which, by the by, is not really a good way to meet straight men). I was content.

And that's when my friend T. decided we should harness the power of the internet to improve our dating lives.