The Interrogation Date

Men can be friends with single women they want to date as much as
lions can be vegetarian.

Siren

My grandfather saw a picture of my grandmother and said, “I want to meet that girl.”  Not too long later they met, married and the rest is history.

Life was so simple once upon a time.

So, when a friend reaches out to say, “I know this great guy who saw pictures of you with me and he really wants to meet you.” my old fashion romantic side slithered its way forward.  

I mean, who wouldn’t want to meet their husband the same way as their grandmother?  Naturally I agree to this arrangement.

In hind sight, I should have been a bit more cautious based on the events that began to immediately unfold.  However, my desire to make dreams come true can be unstoppable and blinding.

We exchange information and the conversation begins by casually sharing the basics: where are you from, where do you live, what do you do for work…BOOM!

Red Flag #1 appears: He is in the military.  (I 100% support military personnel. I find the sacrifice and commitments these men and women make for our country something to deeply honor and respect.) As much as I would love to fall for my very own Goose, my previous experience has generalized they are often serious, southern and abrasive. This sadly has not mesh well with my deep rooted free spirit.

The vision of sharing this story with my grandmother one day when I show her my wedding ring encourages me to brush this off and proceed regardless.

His social media pictures were a bit difficult to judge, however he had a nice face and seemed like an adventurous guy.  He flies Ospreys for the military and personal planes for pleasure. He travels to islands while seeming stable. Plus, a friend was vouching for him and going on and on about how cute our babies would be, how perfect we were for one another and how wonderful our lives together would become.

All of this aside. I could feel the seriousness through his text messages already.  

Red Flag #2: He begins to ask more personal questions like “You are an engineer, tell me about that. What is the most challenging part of your job?” or “I heard you are a certified yoga instructor.  Is this your life’s greatest passion?” Hey dude, how about we meet first before I text you my deepest secrets, passions and fears?  I am not a member of the Taliban that needs to be interrogated!

Deciding to completely disregard my intuition, we set on a time and place.

Red flag #3: He picks the most expensive, fancy and all around old-person-uppity restaurant in my neighborhood.  This is the type of place you take someone to for a proposal or to celebrate an anniversary with a bottle of champagne while watching the sunset over the oceans horizon. Even though I hate on the fact that men don’t take women on legitimate “dates” anymore.  I find myself equally as disturbed when they actually do…

“What is wrong with this guy?” I wonder.

At this point I take control. (This may or may not be my destructive self taking over. For how could I allow a respectful and established gentleman take me out to a fancy dinner? Who do I think I am?) I tell him we will be going somewhere else, a more casual spot, with food prices that wont make me feel bad if he offers to pay.  I will also be inviting two friends for a double date.

The date, location, time and party count has been set.

Word to the wise, when you are ever in doubt of spending an evening solo with a stranger of question, invite a powerful couple. My couple of choice has been together for years and they both have an insatiable ability to talk to anyone, about anything. This couple is my lifesaver. Single friends, please take the time to find one of these, praise them and never let go.  

The moment has arrived where we are to meet, in the flesh! Heading into this date I already know it wont be working out, but I am going to go anyways, for grandma. I park and ascend the hill to the restaurant located just beyond the towns train tracks. (these are fancy people train tracks that run along the ocean coast, not inner city tracks) I spot my date from a distance standing outside. I take this opportunity to check him out. He is fairly tall and has a small build. Such a small build in fact that when I picture him naked I imagine he could make me feel like a large human (difficult task). He is wearing a flannel patterned button up shirt with one chest pocket, dark jeans and cowboy boots. His ears protrude beyond his soft brown hair and matching eyes. Now that I have successfully thought about you naked, lets get this date started!

I walk towards him with my bubbly smile to say hello. I prepare for a hug with both arms coming out. He reaches out to shake my hand.
Oh fuck, he is southern. I did a quick save and dropped my left hand behind my back almost as if I was going to curtsy with this handshake.

I can tell by the growth of his eye balls and twitching smile
upon greeting me that I have surpassed his physical expectations. Did he just think of me naked, too?

Dinner begins and my military man starts the interview process. He makes me feel that if I do not answer all of his questions I will be tied up by the time dessert rolls around. Could be kind of hot… except I think he might actually be a human lie detector. If needed, faking an orgasm would be completely out of the question here.

“So tell me about your childhood, I heard you grew up overseas? Military dad?”

“Sort of, my parents were teachers and taught on military bases all around the world. It was really amazing and I feel incredibly blessed to have grown up this way.” Sorry dude, you don’t fill my Oedipus complex based on your military role.

“Interesting. So after you moved to America you went to school in Northern California. Tell me about that.” …

“Explain your role as an engineer at a biotech company.” …

“At what age did you realize you wanted to swim competitively?”…

“What is the process of learning how to surf like?”…

The list of these firing questions continued for at least 30 minutes. I could barely find a breath to order a cocktail (which I knew I would need).

Flash backs to the Global Entry interview are coming my way, except the finger print machine hasn’t been pulled out yet.  And instead of sitting in a small hard plastic chair next to questionable strangers while listening to a man explain his felony charges with the hopes of getting a fast pass, I am in a romantically lit restaurant with soft music playing and a fluffy cushion beneath my ass.

I began to feel like Ben Stiller in Meet the Parents..what kind of date is this?

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Red Flag #4: There are two other people at the table and this man has decided to completely ignore them and is only asking me questions.  My dear friends agreed to join with the hopes of engaging conversation and group fun! I pick up the feeling that he is not happy I invited them and is going to proceed with this date as if they are not here. My discomfort begins to grow, and the only way I know how to handle that is to giggle and say really inappropriate things…

I decide, “I am here for the night, I am going to enjoy this.”  I proceed to talk in complete honesty about my life.

My favorite question to answer among the screening list, “Have you ever been to Mexico?”  

Oh boy, have I been to Mexico.

I proceed to tell him the exact story from previous blog post (Girls Weekend: International Edition).  

For those of you that may have missed this epic night story, please take a moment and enjoy it. If you would rather continue onward, like a Goosebumps “choose your adventure” novel, read this synopsis:  

Girls go to Mexico. Shit gets crazy. Bachelor Party is met. A strip club (Alcatraz) is frequented. People are naked. Party till dawn.

Now that everyone is up to speed…

My power couple is loving this spark of entertainment. The girl was present in Mexico and a leader of the Alcatraz frequenting. We begin explaining the strippers, the dancing, the excessive shots of tequila and all around grotesqueness of our actions. Her and I are building this story off of one another rising to a great climax (both in volume of our voices and detail).

“The post-pregnancy stripper has stripped our friend down to nothing. A Hispanic mustache is inches from her crotch. He is about to place some pesos between her lips….”

In the midst of completing this statement I realize the look on my dates face is beyond anything I can bear.  If I could have frozen time and taken a photo, I would have. He looks as though the wind was just knocked out of him in between bites of steak.

I may have gone too far… I need to redeem myself out of respect for this kind man. Due to his sudden inability to spit questions at me with rapid fire I get the chance to ask him a question while he is in recovery.

I stop laughing, take a calming breath and in a state of complete composure ask “Have you ever been to Mexico?”.

He says “yes” and proceeds to tell a story about going fishing with his uncle.  

At this point, my glass of wine is making me sleepy, or maybe it is the vanilla fishing story….

With our Mexico adventures shared, and the interview process completed (to my awareness) we all stand to leave and exit the restaurant. He politely thanks my power couple for joining us then turns to me. “Would you like to stay out and have a drink with me?”

I am in a state of awe, my eyes must have widened the way his did when we first met. “Thank you for the offer, I have a meeting early in the morning so should have an early night.” Did he think I was some kind of party animal?

I was a bit shocked that he wanted to continue the date, let alone go on another. In my eyes, we were not on the same page. After multiple requests to go out, I kindly made it clear I would not be interested in seeing him further.  He reluctantly pivoted to requesting a friendship.

Men can be friends with single women they want to date as much as
lions can be vegetarian.

What this interaction taught me (and likely my date) is that not every person you see in a picture is going to be what you think they are. Personality types are varying shades of the rainbow and some hues blend together well, while others turn into a shitty brown color. Oh, and I also learned that in the future I will keep my Mexican strip club stories at bay from the southern silent gentleman of the world.

Sorry grandma, my matching love story is going to have to wait.

XO

Siren   

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