I was actually pretty excited about my date with Billy the Kidd. I felt pretty confident that as long as he was who he said he was, we’d be okay. There were some small flags down on the field that I was intentionally ignoring. Men who go on and on about their exes in any fashion is definitely one. Show me a man who is still angry or sad, and I’ll show you a man who isn’t over the past. His living situation? I was trying really hard to be okay with it, but there was a slight nagging edge that I was ignoring. He was far from homeless, but not as close to stable as I would have preferred.

Lastly, and this one seems crazy if you know me personally – he spoke too fast. Yes, I talk fast, but I don’t think I’ve ever been told I speak so quickly that I’m nearly unintelligible. Unless of course you’re listening to me and my youngest converse. But his was so fast that at times it made my head spin and I couldn’t understand him. I made a joke of him needing to slow down, but it was comparable to a fat kid with his face in a cake, telling the other fat kid to slow down on the sweets.

Anyway the day of the date arrived. My proverbial handbrake was starting to show signs of wear and tear in telling him how he needed to slow the fuck down, as well lower his expectations. Another flag. I was calling it, and recognizing it, but still I moved forward. He was placing his entire romantic life on my shoulders and it was wearing on me. I arrived on time, only to receive texts from him that he was lost. Then he called asking me to guide him to the restaurant. People he was like – 2 miles from the restaurant, and the city I live in is pretty freaking small. You could spit from any direction and practically hit the plaza the restaurant was in. I think all of these flags – they were starting to wear on me and I felt it when I responded to his “lost” calls.

Plus I HATE arriving first for a first date. That’s one thing I will give Love Bomb credit for. He always arrived super early to scope the place out, pick the best table and make sure I wasn’t having to wait on him.

It did give me time to arrive and have a cocktail before he arrived. It wasn’t a nerve settling one, because like I said I was feeling pretty good about who I was. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a tad concerned about who he was.

And I was correct. He showed up, and if I didn’t recognize his raspy voice and mile-a-minute speech, I swear I wouldn’t have known it was him. I could barely contain the shock (and very likely disappointment) on my face. He was at least 40-50 pounds heavier than even his most “recent” pic, and his body was even straining in the clothes he was currently wearing. He was sweating profusely (hot and day and nerves may have had a part in that). His eyes were sunken and grayish and looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His hair was thin and kept flopping in his eyes. I was so disappointed I wanted to cry. Instead I picked my jaw up and hugged him in the best “It’s so nice to meet you” vs “Holy shit, you fucking liar” mode. We sat down and he ordered a drink – a beer I think – my mind was still reeling and I was trying to pull it together. I mentally assessed the situation and realized the surprise was more jolting than the actual looks. If he had represented himself as he was, I might  have still been interested. (But honestly probably not)

He nervously fumbled thru the next 90 minutes. He told me I exceeded his expectations, which just made my upcoming decision that much harder. How was I going to handle this? I had pages and pages of texts between us – him mostly, but the most romantic rumblings of hope and potential love, and all I could see was that there was zero chemistry with this person. The pictures were easily 20 years old, and when I later went back and looked at them I kicked myself in the ass for not recognizing this. I also looked at the pics he emailed me – the “very recent ones” and realized those were probably a year old at best.

I hightailed it out of there after a respectable amount of time, with a hug. I think you’d have to have lived under a rock to see that the extent of my interest had dropped extensively, but he still held onto hope. He texted me later to tell me how nice it was to have finally met me, and I could barely muster up the courage to respond. Unlike the Love Bomb, or Dear John, or even Google Him, I was going to have to treat this one with more delicacy. I felt he deserved it.

You see many many years ago when I first started dating, I was quite a few pounds heavier than I am now. I never misrepresented myself, but I had a date that apparently was very disappointed when we met, and I have never forgotten that look I got from him when I walked in. It was deflating and humiliating. And unlike me, he didn’t pull himself together and stick out the date in a polite and nice manner. He was rude and spoke maybe five words as he scanned the crowded bar, like he was looking for a life preserver. I stuck around long enough to finish my drink and hightailed it out of there, feeling sheer mortification at how I was treated. Nor did he follow up with anything other than bullshit (tbh I don’t recall how he followed up exactly but had it been with polite care, I would have recalled it. I just know it left such a sour taste in my mouth and mind that it’s literally scarred me and caused mass insecurities since then). Billy the Kidd and I may not have been a match made in heaven, but I was damned if I was going to hurt him in that manner.

So I waited a couple of days and then carefully wrote a very nice text, explaining that he really was a wonderful guy (because deep down he was) and that I was so very sorry the feelings were not reciprocated and that I truly hoped he found his true dream girl (he used to refer to me in that manner). I did block him, because I KNEW he would plead his case, and then I unfollowed his dating profile (or however its handled). But I forgot about the fact he had my email address.

About a week or so went by and sure enough he reached out via email. It was beautiful and sad. He said he understood and that I really was everything he wanted and that he appreciated my kindness, and it was such a shame, blah blah blah. Not blah blah as in my denigrating his message. Just that the exact words were not necessary here. I wrote back that I was sure he would find someone, and I was surprised when he wrote back one last time a sweet goodbye agreeing that he thought he would too, and I that I gave him hope, etc. Anyway, my point was I was glad it all ended with kindness, because hurting him was far from what he needed just because I was disappointed.

Lesson that I did learn here? RECENT PICS. I immediately updated my profile to state my pics were all recent, and to practically demand that theirs be too. Uh oh, was a little bit of that negativity that I read so much about starting to weave and attach itself to me, dimming my Susie Sunshine? You betchyer sweet ass it was.

Lesson that I should have had cemented itself to me? SLOW THE FUCK DOWN. – that one would bite me in the ass soon enough. 😉

Even though I had some hopes for Billy the Kidd and I, I was still determined that I really wanted to continue the dating experience. My end goal still wasn’t necessarily “Finding the One”, but hey if it happened while all of this was going on, then BOO-YA! – But until then, let’s see where this wild ride would take me. I was still talking with a couple of other men I found very interesting, and I soon brushed myself off and set forth down my proverbial yellow brick road. I might not have been in Kansas anymore, but I felt I was becoming a little more accustomed to this other side of the rainbow.

I had been having a lowkey very friendly and flirty connection with … hmmmm what shall we call him? The Partridge. When we initially met he was about to travel, and when he got back it was hit and miss with us a lot. I think we were both heavily attracted to one another, and I really liked his low key sense of humor. Our conversations didn’t usually last too long, but they never lacked a little bit of substance. He made me laugh a lot, and I’d learn he also made me blush a lot. We didn’t talk on a regular basis – sometimes he would text me a question, I’d answer and I wouldn’t hear a follow-up with him. Despite this we were definitely determined to meet one another. Finally weeks after initial connecting we lined up a lunch date one Friday. Once again I was working from home, and assumed the place we were going to was super casual, so I showed up way underdressed. Which again if you knew me you’d probably be shocked to hear. Prom Dress to a Picnic is how I’m usually referred to. This time I was really embarrassed and had to make comment about it.

Regardless of the fashion faux paus, lunch went pretty good. He was as attractive as his profile. Tall as he claimed. Maybe a tad thinner than I expected? I was definitely not disappointed. The lunch was interesting to say the least. He chose a noisier restaurant and unfortunate because of the two-seater table we were at it was sometimes difficult to hear his low key register voice. I also found myself blushing quite often, which was a tell-tale sign of my shyness with him. He definitely had the upper-hand, which meant I liked him, but was unsure of how he felt about me. Let me rephrase that. In some respects I literally felt like a cat with the canary, only I was the canary. This left me tongue tied a bit, and without being able to hear him all of the time I just simply wasn’t as comfortable as I could have been. There was something very slightly intimidating about him. Not in a physical way – maybe intellectually? I don’t know. I only know that while there was intrigue there was also some hesitancy with me as well. He definitely took control of the conversation, and at this point – I let him. Suffice to say I was still interested, still found him very attractive and hoped maybe to go on a second date. Preferably some place a little less noisy.

He threw me off just a tad when as we were leaving it had started to rain. I was caught completely unprepared and would have to walk a  bit to my car. His lackadaisical approach to my having to do this? Didn’t win many points with me. He could have  said, “wait here under cover while I go get my car to drive you to yours”. Yes, sometimes I am a princess, but not a demanding one. Despite that oversight on his part I let him give me a sweet, almost chaste but not quite – kiss goodbye and that was it. Was he interested? To be frank, I wasn’t sure. And I wasn’t going to be certain for a few more weeks. My story with The Partridge would continue, but with a brief break.

The next story – shit I feel like it really deserves it’s own chapter. I think if I were Dorothy, this would be the part where I land in the Poppy Fields and lay there stoned out of my gourd for a short period. The aftermath included at least one Flying Monkey situation.

We’ll return with The Hawaiian.

Leave a comment