exitstrategy

I just got back from a first date.  I was not that excited about the date to begin with.  I had seen a picture of the guy and he seemed (a) unattractive and (b) tiny.  By tiny I do not just mean short - but also very slight (aka skinny and weighing less than me).  The pictures did not deceive.  This guy lived up to the various nick names I had given him prior to meeting: pocket size, tiny tim, and tom thumb (oh and can you believe my friend said that I was being judgmental since I had never even seen him before giving him these names.  Pfffff).So a week or so ago Pocket Size emailed me about getting together.  He suggested last Wednesday night.  I had plans on Wednesday (watch So You Think You Can Dance) so I suggested Sunday.  Well, Wednesday night Pocket Size emails and says “Yeah as you can tell Wednesday is no good.  I will call you Sunday to set up a time.”  Then, when Sunday rolls around Pocket Size does not call me until 4:30 to make the arrangement.  In the words of Shawn Colven, Where have all the cowboys goooooooooooone?  And by cowboys I assume she met chivalrous men.And to add further support to Shawn’s thesis — that all the cowboys are indeed gooooooooone — Pocket Size suggested we meet at the bar.  So, at 8:40 PM (fashionably late) I arrive at the bar.  Pocket Size had gotten a seat at the bar that was obstructed from the doorway.  Or, he was so little that I did not notice him.  Hmm, perhaps he was just hanging in a crawl space waiting for me to arrive.  Anyway, I sat at a different part of the bar and Pocket Size came over to greet me.  I was, shall we say, disappointed.We sat down and Pocket Size had already ordered a beer.  I ordered a glass of wine.  We started talking about law school and law firms and lawyers — as you may have guessed he was a lawyer (or a law clerk, rather).  And then there was an awkward pause for a good 30 seconds.  Then, I asked him where he lived.  He told me he lived in Lakeview.  He had a roomate last year who moved away and now he has a random summer roomate and then next year he will have another roomate.  I could not tell where he found these roomates but I think craigslist (I am not sure if “roommate” is code for lover, but its not outside the realm).  Then, after the roommate tales there was another akward pause.  I broke the pause by talking about how I just cant have roommates and how I had a bad roommate in college etc.  But there is only so much one can say about roommates so inevitably, there was yet another pause.  Theis was the general tenor of our evening.  Little random blurps of question and answer, or sometimes short stories (mostly me, sometimes him if you asked him about roommates) followed by akward pauses.Well it was getting too much for me.  So, I decided to lay on the old charm and whip up one of my funny anecdotes.  He had just talked about the Cubs/Whitesox game he went to.  It was the perfect opening for my baseball story.  ”Oh that reminds me,” I began, “when I was at my previous law firm I was invited to go on a client entertainment event and we went to a Whitesox game.  I was the only woman and I was trying to fit in so when everyone started talking about his favorite baseball team, I piped up and said I love the Minnesota Twins.  ’Who is your favorite twin?’ someone asked.  ’Kirby Puckett’ I replied.  ’Umm, I meant your favorite LIVING player.’ But, I could not name a living player.  It was embarrassing.”  And then I started laughing.  He chuckled a little.  ”I like the Yankees.”  ”Who is your favorite Yankee?”  ”I don’t know any actual players.”  And so began the longest of our awkward pauses.  I mean is this for real that I am the most into sports of the pair of us?  Well that just won’t work.  I can’t even name a living baseball player!!  So we were just sorta looking at each other and drinking when the guy upstairs sent a little help my way.  ”Did someone just mention Puckett?” asked the bartender?  ”Oh I used to live in Minnesota and I used to play basketball with Puck.  He was a great man. . . .”  And the guy just went on for a solid five minutes about Kirby.  It was great.  He provided a much needed voice into the mostly one woman show that was my date.We moved on from the Puck to various other topics.  I started talking about Grey’s Anatomy and how I had heard McDreamy was based on Rahm Emanual’s brother when our guardian angel laughed and piped in about Grey’s and the whole ABC lineup.  He told us how he loathes reality television because he does not feel that we should make celebrities out of people who were so stupid that there needed to be subtitles to understand their English.  Well said barkeep!Shortly after, I mentioned that I needed to get up early.  We asked for the check.  Pocket Size made no gesture towards the bill.  What’s the deal?  I mean does he want to talk more and not ready to pay?  So we squeezed out a little more conversation but it became apparent that he was not going to offer to pay.  Did he really think I was going to pay for him?  I glanced at the bill and they had only charged us for my glass of wine.  OMG Pocket Size had ordered and PAID for his drink before I even got there.  Now that is a first.  I mean I sometimes don’t even offer to pay when a guy asks me out, but if I were to use that tactic in this situation I would still be there right now.  Ugh, the cowboys are GOOOOOOOOONE.So what did I learn from this date?  That good things come in small packages?  Not in this case.  That chivalry is dead?  Well maybe.  That I have gotten back into someone’s good graces since I had been touched by the barkeep/angel?  Indeed.  Thank G-d for Kirby Puckett.  GOOOOOO TWINS.

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