date #2

Standard date #2

So match date #1 was a bust, a nice guy but he was going to find a better mate in someone else.  My coworkers listened to my lunch date story and agreed that ultimately this man would be miserable with me and vise verse but they liked musing about it anyway.

The next date was much more interesting and at first seemed promising.

This man was my age or maybe a year older, close anyway. Never been married but he explained in his well-written profile about how he had dedicated his life thus far to his business and was now searching for love and commitment.  He was into travel and foreign culture, music and yoga. He had traveled all over the world with his work as a founding member and marketer of an internationally known product that had just gone public the previous year.  I checked the IPO and determined with the help of a friend in the investment business that he had made in the neighborhood of 23 million dollars in the deal.  He also played in a band.

Art, travel AND serious money, I thought this was a match made in heaven.

We met for coffee and I knew immediately I had met him before.  It took a couple of days to remember but I did.  More on that later.

We had a lovely time at coffee.  He had a sweet, unassuming demeanor (so refreshing in a man of great wealth) and I enjoyed talking with him about what we like to do and what our goals are for life.  He asked so sheepishly if I would like to have dinner with him, it tugged at my heartstrings.  I happily agreed and we made plans to eat at one of my favorite restaurants the following week.

During the week we settled plans and communicated a little more.  I googled him, of course, and everything checked out just fine.  We decided to meet at his home, the top floor of a duplex in a nice part of town.  He explained he lived in this apartment because he was single, had just come into his money and was waiting to find a more permanent home after he found his love. I also wanted to see his taste and collection of Buddha statues (which I also collect).

I also remembered where I had previously met him.  Fifteen years prior, when I was dating the man who became my second husband, I had met Match #2 in a vintage clothing store.  He was interesting to talk to and told me about his new business venture.  He had liked me then and the woman who owned the shop later told me that he was interested in going out with me but I declined as I was already involved with someone else.  Interesting, huh?

So back to summer of 2010:

The date night came and I excitedly drove to his house. When I arrived he was as sweetly charming as he had been in the coffee shop and thrilled to show me his apartment.  He offered me a glass of champagne – how fabulous is that?- and we walked to the kitchen to prepare it.  When he opened the refrigerator is was packed with bottles of champagne.  There was nothing else.  Just about three cases of good champagne.  Hmmmm.

So he pours me a glass and he proceeds to show me his place.  The decor is a cross between bachelor pad and just out of college.  Box springs and mattresses on the floor, Ikea shelves, modern leather chairs in the den complete with gigantic television and stereo system- very interesting for a man almost fifty years old.  It was all neat, clean and organized, though.  So much so that during the tour I picked up one of the small Buddha statues to look at it and put it back in approximately the same spot. Then he adjusted it.  “Interesting,” I thought.  So I picked up another one and consciously put it back exactly the way I thought it should go and – adjustment.  Hmmmm.

Now I have a child living at home and at the time I had a dog also.  Those two creatures are not always neat, clean and tidy.  I knew immediately that this man would have a problem living in such a chaotic environment but, you know, adjustments can be made and certainly he could afford to arrange to accommodate a compromise like living in a gigantic house in which he could be separated from the mayhem or having a staff on hand to keep the place spotless and picked up.  Not a deal breaker but an obstacle.

Fast forward to dinner.  He drives to the restaurant in his nice but sedate car. He has had two glasses of champagne that I have seen him drink and he starts to order more drinks.  He consumes at least four glasses of wine to my one and a Port.  He started talking to my cleavage after the first glass of wine and made a comment about me covering up when I got chilly and put a wrap over my shoulders.  By desert he was telling stupid jokes and his persona had changed dramatically from really nice to utterly obnoxious.

At the end of the meal I ordered a favorite rare fig port which intrigued him so he ordered one as well. His face screwed up like a child after a spoonful of icky tasting medicine at his first sip. I remarked on his apparent dislike of the wine and said something stupid about how he didn’t have to drink it to which he answered, “I never met an alcohol he didn’t like.” Huge red flag.

When I realized that I had ten minutes to get home at the time the babysitter was expecting me, he was annoyed.  I should have called a cab but was concerned about waiting and being late.  So we hopped in his car after hurrying the bill and headed back to his place where my car was parked.

It was August in the south around 9:20 at night and we are driving through a residential area of the city.  People are out on the streets enjoying the cooler-than-day air.  College kids and families are out walking.  Kids are riding bikes.  There are a lot of people out and about.  Halfway to his house and midway in a block when the traffic light at the end of that same block turned yellow.  Rather than be mindful of the people on the streets, this guy smashes the gas peddle and speeds through the light!  I am horrified and tell him that though I appreciate the gesture of trying to get me back to my car quickly so I can be respectful of the sitter’s time that I would prefer he slow down and get us there without incident.  The next block he does the same thing, guns the car from halfway in the block through a yellow light at the intersection.  Now I am past annoyed.  I am getting to disgusted.  His action simply demonstrated a self-centeredness that is inexcusable.  A lack of consideration for the people around him, most importantly me.

So we do manage to get to arrive at our destination without killing anyone- a relief – and he pulls into the enclosed parking area behind his house.  There are three ways out of this parking area: 1. the automatic gate used by the car, 2. up a flight of stairs to his apartment, a walk through to the front and downstairs to the front door or 3. a gate in the side of the tall fence surrounding the parking area that goes directly to the street.  My car is parked on the street just the other side of that gate.  He starts to go up the stairs to his apartment as I begin to step towards the gate.  He says, “You’ll need to come up so you can get to your car,” meaning I will need to go up to his apartment, walk through to the front and walk down the steps to the front door to get to the street.  Of course, there is no reason on earth for me to go into his apartment if my intention is only to immediately leave.  Remember, I am late to get home to relieve the sitter who for the first time ever has given me a deadline- plus I am paying the sitter which means this disastrous date has cost me significantly not to mention the money spent on coloring my hair and time getting ready.  Anyway, I can only deduce that this guy has some other ideas as to why I should come up to his apartment so I point out to him (with my hand physically on the gate) that I can simply go out this gate and my car is right there and he gets visibly irritated.

I mean, really!  We’ve been to dinner not Paris!

He reluctantly walks me to my car after I specifically ask him to do so, it IS night time in the city after all and good manners should dictate such an action.

We did NOT make another date although he has since asked to be my friend on Facebook.

Two down. One to go and I am a bit disillusioned with at this point.

5 responses »

  1. I remember this story very well. It sounds as bad now as it did then. Alcohol does tell the tale of a person’s personality. Really, he wasn’t THAT rich to warrant putting up with that kind of bullsh—.

  2. Money cannot buy class or the right to be a boorish. Some of the nicest folks I know aren’t multi-millionaires. Takes all kinds to fill the freeway 😉

  3. Pingback: Men to Avoid: Those in Favor of Legalizing Prostitution « Dating by Committee

  4. Pingback: first shadows: a week of remembrances | Dating by Committee

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