Po' Boy

I’m going to interrupt the story of Asshole (again), to tell you about a date I had recently. Better to tell you people about these things while they are fresh in my mind, and believe me, a break from Asshole is a good thing. That’s what she said!

Sorry, I’ll be good. Ish.

After a long hiatus from online dating, I began talking with a few guys on POF about two weeks ago. I immediately hit it off with a tall wannabe-cop (currently working as a police dispatcher), who looked really cute in his pictures. We e-mailed back and forth a bunch, and then switched to iMessage. It didn’t take long before he sent me this:
WC: Just getting a read on your wit. I believe it’s a finely honed defense mechanism as well?
Well, shit.
Redhead: Why do you think that?
WC: So nobody fucks with you.
Fair enough.
The Wannabe Cop and I had already discussed meeting the following week when my work schedule would be a little less hectic, but out of nowhere on a Thursday afternoon, he asked if I would consider meeting him for a coffee that night. Against my better judgment (and my hatred for all things last-minute), I agreed.
A few hours before meeting, I made the mistake of asking him the million dollar question:
Redhead: So, you seem like a decent guy. Why are you single?
WC: I had my heart ripped out. My fiancée got hired by a police service and decided that she didn’t want to get married and it freefell from there. Eventually I had enough of her antics and told her how I felt, so she dumped me.
Fuck. Why do I ask these things?
WC: I played misogynist for about a year then signed up for POF as a way to socialize myself and then said to myself that I’d had enough and wanted to date again.
WC: It had to happen eventually. To be fair, you ask yourself, why is this guy 35 and single.
WC: For the most part ive come to terms with it, just need my cat.
Overshare alert.
Redhead: She has your cat?
WC: My roommate is allergic to cats.
WC: Yeah that’s right. I have a roommate.
WC: I owe him a wookie life debt.
Oh good, a Star Wars reference.
My enthusiasm about our coffee date was beginning to wane.
Walking into a Tim Horton’s in my neighbourhood, I realized why all his pictures were taken from a distance; he had large, distracting moles on his face.
He had a large cup of coffee in front of him, and since he knew I didn’t like coffee, I spotted a large container of chocolate milk on the opposite side of the table for me. Not what I would have picked at 7:30pm, but I certainly appreciated the gesture.
Over the course of the next hour and a half, I discovered a lot about the Wannabe Cop, like the fact that he was allergic to beer (hops, specifically), and for years he had considered becoming a cop.
“So why don’t you?” I asked.
He pointed at his wrist, and I looked up at him in confusion. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I’m white. It’s a lot harder if you’re white,” he said.
“Oh. Uh, okay,” was all I could think to say in response.
He told me that he had taken some online courses about human behaviour, and as I was in the middle of telling him a story, he suddenly cut me off and said, “See, what you just did there? That was memory recollection!”
“Excuse me?”
“First you looked up and to the right, because you were recalling the memory, then down, because you were drawing from emotion. If you had looked up and to the left, you would have been lying,” he said.
“Sorry, I really shouldn’t do that, but I couldn’t help myself. Please go on!”
Talk about a conversation killer, and I was incredibly self-conscious about everything I did and every direction I looked from that moment on.
“Are you ready for another chocolate milk?” he asked me.
“No, it’s okay, I haven’t finished this one.”
He snickered.
“What?” I asked.
“That’s what she said!”
Uhm, not really, and there is nothing worse than a “that’s what she said” abuser.
The topic of his roommate came up again, and he told me he had very little disposable income, as he was saving up for his own place.
“I’m po’,” he told me.
“I’m sorry, po?”
“There’s poor and then there’s po. I’m po.”
Right. I was born and raised in the ghetto, and even I don’t use ridiculous terms like “po”. Time to pull the chute! I looked at the clock and said, “Wow, nine o’clock already? I should get going.”
“Sure. I’ll walk down the street with you.”
We gathered up our things, threw out our cups, and headed out the door. At the corner of my street, he stopped and said, “So, can I see you again? Or did I totally screw this up?”
Avoiding eye contact, I shifted awkwardly and replied, “Uhm, sure. We can…hang out again.”
He smiled and leaned in for a hug, then I turned and walked away.
Not ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. Text message.
WC: It was really nice putting a face to the personality. I’m impressed.
An hour later, my phone buzzed again.
WC: So my roommate has his gf over. If you’re around…help!
After brushing my teeth, washing my face, and changing into my pyjamas, I put my phone into airplane mode and went to bed.
The next morning, I was boarding a bus when I received another text message.
WC: There’s a story on CP24 about rock climbing. Made me think of you. Morning.
Slightly annoyed, I made the decision to nip this one in the bud, and sent him a response.
Redhead: Morning. Hey, I have to be upfront about something. I think you’re a great guy, but I just had a friendship vibe last night…not sure if a friend is what you’re looking for.
He was silent for a few hours, and then:
WC: Now that you mention it, and that I think about it, you’re right. You’re still seven and a half shades of awesome though.
Hahaha. Whatever you need to tell yourself, dude.
I thanked him, and he proceeded to send me a bunch of chats and “funny” pictures from the internet throughout the course of the day.
Eventually, I just stopped responding. I’m not looking for friends online, so I’d rather devote my energies to someone with greater potential.
Next up? When good dates go bad.

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