One of the most tragic parts of online dating is finding out that the person you text with is nothing like how you have imagined them when finally meeting them. When you text too much you begin to create a vision of how you think the person sounds, their tone of voice, and their level of compassion and kindness. If you’re a good person, you start to think that they mirror your level of warmth.
I try very hard not to communicate via text too much until after the first date. This makes not texting them easier if the date goes bad and also helps to avoid any preconceived notions. This was not the case for The Moon Man. However, deep down I think I knew how this one would turn out. I cancelled on him three times before just getting it over with. Sometimes, you have to go on the bad date to end communication.
The Moon Man seemed to be into the same things as me. He liked wine, antiques, sporadic adventures. I couldn’t believe the things we actually had in common. Clearly too good to be true. Over time I started to get the sense that his social media accounts seemed a little off. He never was with people and all he did was take pictures of food. He was casually tagged in a really hard core kickball league slew of photos but that was about it…
I decided that I wasn’t really into him, but maybe I’d make a new friend like I did with The Greek (future post). I pull up to the restaurant, and there is a seedy motel in the back. I jokingly text him that if he turned out to be Norman Bates I was going to be pissed. He comes flying into the parking lot in a fancy car that obviously was an overcompensation for either his personality or other parts of his being.
I’m not against luxury cars. By all means I am for them. However, when the first thing you do is tell me you just picked it up on your way over from the airport and the body work wasn’t right and you spent a ton of money on it, I’m already rolling my eyes.
Yes, The Moon Man is working on products to live on the moon. He is an engineer and preceded to tell me he’s made national publications. I heard the words NASA and The Moon so many times that if the date was a drinking game, I would have been blacked out in the first 10 minutes.
I digress. Let me back track. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt when meeting them. I have come to find that when people get nervous they tend to make themselves sound like an asshole or a pervert. They are trying to impress and typically nerves get the best of them. So, here we are standing in the parking lot, and he is fresh off the plane from a business trip. He tells me how his luggage was stolen out of the convertible he rented so he had to spend over $2,000 on new luggage and clothing for his 15 day extravaganza (D-Bag money mention #2 at this point. Start counting). I let it slide and chuckle.
The Moon Man is also ironically wearing a pink shirt and Sperry’s. JUST LIKE ME. Weird. Except I didn’t tell him how much my outfit cost. I didn’t need to get into a who wore it better pissing match.
We head into the restaurant and he chooses outdoor seating at the outdoor bar. I’m stuck on an awkward stool in a weird spot. He never once asks me if I am comfortable or ok with his choice. Its fine…
He precedes to tell me all about Napa Valley, the $300 worth of wine that was stolen, and all the fancy cars he rented on his trip (#3 and #4). I’m smiling, or at least attempting to. I’m giving the polite nod. He is talking so much that the bartender asks us 4 times if we are ready. He makes a snide comment about my request for hard cider. Get off my back Mr. Fancy pants, I’m gluten free!
When its time to order he says, “Get whatever you want. I want you to be comfortable”. Okay, redemption. He then orders another app that I can’t eat and eats it as a meal. Fine, I don’t like to share either.
Throughout the “date” or The Moon Man’s soliloquy, because at this point he’s just talking, I hear about his fancy job, how he rented a lake for the weekend, how he pays for everything for his friends, and how much he spent on one of his start up companies at the age of eleven (#5-#8). I can’t even at this point. I’m contemplating on stabbing myself in the eye with one of the plastic swords from the bar in order to have some excitement in my life.
Now, this wasn’t even the worst part of the “date”. The most horrific thing that happened was that he was appalled that I would ever go to random places and chat up people around me. He informs me that he refuses to talk to strangers because they provide no value to his life. He will never speak to them again so why would he invest any energy? At this point I can’t believe I invested any energy into a man that was so bitter and closed off. I informed him that some of my life long friends I have met at airports, on a flight, or in a bar. He looked at me like I had kicked his beloved car.
When The Moon Man finally lets me speak, we start talking about Europe. I tell him about my family in Italy and tell him a funny story about the time I accidentally went to a Communist Rally for free gelato. It’s usually a crowd favorite. Nope, he proceeds to talk to me like I am an idiot without a dual master’s degree and without an above average IQ.
I don’t usually throw that around, but I pride myself in my intelligence. I’m not a rocket scientist though. The Moon Man gives me an elementary introduction into communism and why it doesn’t work. He takes ten minutes slowly breaking it down and talking down to me. I asked him, “Why do you do keep doing that?”. He asks, “Doing what?”. I reply, “Talking to me like you have to dumb everything down and explain it to me. I’m not an idiot and its condescending”. He is not phased by my comment. He just blinks his eyes clearly not believing me.
I finally let the chump know that I coach robotics, I program and code these robots and teach children how to do it along with teach them the mathematics behind it. I also explain to him that I have an undergraduate degree in European history and I was quite familiar with the inner workings of European government structures. However, I did let him know that I appreciated his efforts to catch me up to speed. He had done so much talking down to me that it would fill another 5 paragraphs before this one. I’ve given you the highlights.
I had ordered a very small drink and only one. He had ordered a few. Apparently he did not pick up on social cues. How could he though, he avoids human kind at all costs. He changes the subject back to how he avoids his co-workers and other people throughout his day. It’s not because he is socially inept. I know it is because he thinks he is above his peers. I’m praying for the bartender to ask about the check at this point.
She finally comes over and says, “Are you ready for your bill?”. I may have said “Yes!!” a little too loud and excitedly. She asks, “Together or separate?”. Awkward pause. I catch Money Bags The Moon Man closing his eyes real tight. I start laughing. Out loud.
It reminds me of an ostrich hiding his head in the sand. I can’t stop laughing as I tell the bartender to go ahead and give us separate bills, please. He makes no gesture to pay. That’s fine. Apparently this is a trend with men that are younger than me.
We walk to our cars. I give a side arm pat and realize he is super uncomfortable, so I pat him a little closer and harder. I have to get my giggles some place. I wait for him to leave and breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever my gut had been telling me was true. Then *ping*, I see a text message. He clearly has no regard for his own safety texting and driving. I see, “I just saw your text about the hotel. That’s funny”.