Epic Fail.

I hereby interrupt the previously scheduled Brazilian Wax blog with an impromptu date story.

I met Zeke last night at the Matchbox Lounge on Division at 10 pm. I’ve been talking to Zeke for a couple of months via email and texts. I won’t be shy in admitting that I really really liked him via the emails we shared and the way he communicated. So I was ridiculously giddy about finally meeting him. The only pictures I had of him were of his backside and while it was a lovely backside, I had no idea if we would have chemistry. It was a last minute phone call in the middle of a poker game with the guys that had me run to the Matchbox to meet up with him.

I will be honest and say there was no immediate chemistry on my side. But no worries, right? There doesn’t need to be spontaneous human combustion for good conversation and possibly friendship and then one day more, right? So I sat at the table with an open mind and thought to myself, “Let’s see what he’s got… stay open. Be ready for surprises. Be fluid. You can do this.”

For the record it’s been since about Christmas since I’ve been on a date. Before that we are talking August and then like 5 months before that. So all in all I can say I go on like four dates a year. Now, I know I’m getting ahead of myself here as it was a last minute and very impromptu invite to go out – but being as it’s the closest I’ve been to a real date in awhile… I’m counting it. So there.

I sat at the table and coached myself silently, “Don’t run away. Don’t run away. What would No-longer-Pregnant-Ninja say if you run away.”

We fell into conversation talking about poker and he asked if I wanted a drink and when I declined due to being on day 5 of the Master Cleanse (bad idea to drink on empty stomach) he offered his probably well intended yet unsolicited advice about the wisdom of “cleanses” which I promptly discarded and changed topics.

I asked about his recent trip to Japan and then asked what his next adventure would be and he said he hadn’t planned it yet. Then he asked, “What’s your next adventure?”

“I think my next adventure will be to learn to ride a motorcycle.” I smiled, actually quite excited about the idea of summer lessons.

To which he said something in regards of, “I would never do anything so crazy.” Then rattled off a couple of statistics. A few fears. The likelihood of ending up dead or paralyzed and finished with, “So that’s why I would hope you change your mind about that.”

To which I smiled, stiffly, “Hmm.” And changed the subject again. “Then my next travel adventure will be either New Zealand or Scotland, but for now I have some domestic adventures to accomplish first.” I said.

“I wouldn’t bother with Scotland. Go to New Zealand.”

“Have you been there?”

“No. But it’s more open and Scotland is full of old white people.” He added.

“And Scotland also has castles and men in kilts, I don’t see the problem here.”

Conversation rolled as is does, to new topics and exchanges and my original excitement wilted under what seeming like consistent pessimism or contradiction. I thought perhaps he’s playing Devil’s Advocate. Maybe that’s the role he’s used to so I’ll go along with that for a bit, but I should call my dad and let him know there’s someone out here in Portland who sounds just like him.

More and more I felt a sense of creeping disappointment. I tried to identify it but disappointment is usually fast on the heels behind the realization that there was an expectation I wasn’t aware of.

“So have you ever been married?”

“No.” He responded. “Have you?”

“Yes,” I admitted and gave a brief story.

“Well, actually, I was married once.” He confessed. “But it’s a long complicated story and I don’t really want to get into it but it’s just easier to say no to that question for now.”

“Why didn’t you just say that then?” I wondered.

“Because it’s complicated.”

I can understand that. Believe me. I get complicated. I get not wanting to talk about things the first time you’ve met someone or even ever. But I’m also a big girl and I can take an, “I don’t want to get into it.” Or “It’s a long story for another time.” Or “It’s none of your business.” And what I appreciate is that he backtracked and filled in the truth, but what I don’t do – is letting myself open up to someone whose instinctive response if less than truthful.

After that I was pretty much on guard and it started to make sense why he had spent the last couple of months being evasive about questions or neglecting to answer things by using a turn the question tactic. Something I brought up once in a conversation, and it suddenly seemed much more important and obvious in person.

As I felt myself slipping off into disinterest I threw out a question, “So do you like what you do?”

“No. I hate it.” Was followed by a sad explanation about how unhappy his is and he didn’t need to sell it because I could really tell, the guy is seriously dissatisfied. He trailed to the end with, “So I’m trying to find the old things that make me happy, the parts of me that I used to be happy with….”

It rang with a surprising resonance to what I had just been blogging about as in return to roots for bliss and such. It seemed terribly pertinent to the conversation so I thought I would volunteer my own opinion and antidotal about the Quest for Bliss – I’d sent him my link a few times so I didn’t want to repeat myself if he’d already read the post or the point of the BlissQuest so before telling him my story about recapturing happiness I asked, “Have you read the BlissQuest?”

“I have to be honest. I have not read the BlissQuest.” He apologized.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Really. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea but I was going to say –“

“I’m sorry, can I just say something.” He interjected. “I’m sure this doesn’t apply to you but I just hate people who write blogs. I mean people who blog are so pretentious to think they have something to say that anyone would want to read! I mean really! Who cares about what’s going on in these bloggers lives, right?” Just then he realized that he’d cut me off mid-sentence and said, “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

Truly, I don’t ever expect anyone to read, it’s there if they want to. It’s there if they want to know what’s going on in my life or hear the verbal bubbling of evolution in my mind – but the BlissQuest has never been and never will be an obligation. I guess this makes me pretentious.

But what ran through my brain at the precise moment he said, “you were saying?” was – “Go fuck yourself ya douche. While you’re at it why don’t you take your woe is me attitude about life and spastic inability to be truthful and honest and all your petty fears that you are trying to foist off onto anyone and fuck those too!”

But what came out of my mouth was, “Nothing. Never mind.” Pearls and swine.

Ultimately, I did stay a little longer and talk and knew my poker face was firmly fixed and prayed desperately that I would be able to pick up some hint that he was joking. It had to be a joke. There had to be something, right? Something that would reveal he wasn’t this way for real after such charming emails and spirited talks.

He walked me to Freya in the parking lot and I drove away making it all of two or three blocks before the tears again. Four dates a year and I cry after all of them. Usually, they bring up some facet that I know I can work on, some reflection of myself or my pattern that I can observe and fix or a trigger I can unwire.

Halfway home I was grateful I’d met him to put my curiosity and excitement to rest but also to help me take a good long look at where I’ve come from and what I’ve overcome.

Anyone who knows the whole story knows I don’t have small obstacles in my past. My story isn’t any better or worse than anyone else but I have enough in my history to be a truly unhappy person if I so chose to be. But right now it’s a choice.

I’ve come far enough that walking out of a date like that didn’t leave me full of fear or concern for my safety or let it derail my enthusiasm for adventures planned. I’ve come far enough that I didn’t scratch his face off or bolt in the middle of the date. (No-longer-pregnant-ninja would be so proud)

What it left me with was a new resolve to be strong and wait to be discovered. Discovered by someone who thinks I have something valid to say, or ideas worth hearing out. Discovered by someone who thinks my adventures are awesome, even if they are not adventures they would want for themselves. Discovered by someone who won’t give me probabilities of death and dismemberment but will say, “You want to ride a motorcycle? Let’s go do it together!” Discovered by someone who might think, “Yeah, she’s weird and maybe a little eccentric and excitable but I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

Waiting to be discovered….