Summer Dating Potpourri and Weird-Ass Shit…..

So, like, it’s been an entire summer since I last checked in with everyone. And that last sentence sounds like a….death sentence (see what I did there with “sentence”???). Summer is over. August 1 is like the two-minute warning for summer. And we ain’t got no time-outs and Tom Brady from the Patriots-Falcons Super Bowl from a few years ago ain’t our QB [also, my Wing-Man Extraordinaire (we’ll call him Hank…and if you’re him, you’ll appreciate that) who up and moved to NYC on me a year ago texted me this picture a few weeks ago to bolster my confidence after I was venting about my dating luck, and it totally helped…

 

Back to me whining about winter. Winter is coming. As my sister noted to me tonight….Fall beckons. Game over. For all you Fall apologists who say that Fall is beautiful, pumpkin spice everything, apple orchards, leaves changing, crisp morning air, football, blah blah blah, I invite you to think back to the movie Titanic and all the violinists playing on the deck. The music is totally beautiful, but it’s about to get really damn cold, really damn quick.  [side note: I remember that I saw the movie while I was living in DC with my good dude friend LZ (who is worth a blog post all by himself…including all the other cats I hung out with in DC and you know who you all are…), and we thought it was going to more of an action movie, and we got there…and it was all couples on date night with Celine Dion breathlessly crooning softly in the background. Awkward.][I also knew someone back in the day who asked me if I was going to see the movie, and I was all like “I don’t know. I mean, the ship hits an iceberg and sinks in the end, right?” And she got pissed at me for being a spoiler……].

So, anyway. Winter sucks. And the summer is coming to end. But intrepid reader, I haven’t been on dating hiatus during the summer. No ma’am/sir. With the optimism of Memorial Day and feeling like the summer was unfurling in front of me, I fired up the ole’ Tinder/Bumble/Match apps, rebooted the profiles, and off we went.

But dear reader. I’m here to report that WEIRD SHIT is going down. Even as we speak/type (or as you read….you get my drift). I think it’s because Mercury has been in retrograde for much of the Summer (more on that later….). Here’s the madcap recap (again…see what I did there with the “cap” alliteration? You only get this literary hocus-pocus right here….).

• General Mills Girl: Sometimes you recycle dates. It’s just the sustainable thing to do. I went out with this woman two years ago, and we had a good first date. She worked at General Mills, and she was totally a company woman. She had just accepted this new job, and was traveling a bunch, and when she wasn’t traveling, she was tethered to her laptop designing the Next Great Powerpoint  (or as we called them at the Bullseye…a deck. Fuck, I hated that term…) to advance her business forward. Anyways, she disappeared for a few weeks, and then asked to schedule something two weeks out, because…work. I said fine. Then two hours before we were supposed to meet up on a Sunday night, she texted that she need to work on a Powerpoint for work, and could stay only for a 45 minutes or so, but it would be neato to have a break from work. I basically said “Fuck that” and said it sounded like she had zero time in her life to date someone. This triggered something, because I got about 10 lengthy texts from her lamenting her life, she’s too busy at work, she’s struggling in life, doesn’t know how to divide her life between work and personal life. I wished her luck, advised her that General Mills would cut her corporate throat in a heartbeat if it suited them in the least, and she needed to bear that in mind (I speak from personal experience on that point, trust me). She said thanks for the advice, and that was that.

So, with that context, guess who the first Bumble girl that popped was during the great dating profile reboot? Ding ding! That’s right. General Mills Girl. So, we start talking, and she apologizes profusely for being such a flake two years ago, that’s she thought of me a bunch, and really would like a second chance. I’m all about second chances (which unfailingly has gotten me into trouble at all possible junctures, but I remain an optimist), and I agree to meet up.

We check out a brewery in Northeast Minneapolis, and she lived up to her General Mills Girl moniker. She spent the first hour lamenting (in excruciating detail) operational issues she was facing at a plant in Iowa, and then the latest executive changes at the company and her forecasting how that all affected her rise at the company. I wanted to ask how it felt to work for a 100-year company which has basically been brought to its knees by a bunch of Millennials who didn’t want to wash out a cereal bowl, but I bit my tongue.

In the end, she asked precisely two questions about me: What I was doing for the Fourth of July, and where my sister lived. So the only new information she gleaned about me after a two-hour+ date was that I was hanging out at my friend C’s home to watch fireworks and that my sister lived in Shakopee.

On to the next…

• Online Learning Expert Girl: I went out with a totally interesting woman who was an online learning expert. She was a bit older than me (46?), had three kids and was just getting back into the dating game. She asked me about something wild I had done, and I told her about the time that I went on vacation to Cabo with my Mom, Sister, Bro-in-Law and Nephew (and it’s a totally fun story how I won the trip…I got drunk at a charity auction and wanted to launch a preemptive strike against a woman in attendance who had broken up with me the year before who was totally money-driven, and I proceeded to bid on everything. I wound up with a stay at the Zappos.com’s CEO’s condo in downtown Vegas and a week-long stay in a villa in San Jose del Cabo. She came over to me afterwards, and said she didn’t like Vegas, but would if I was looking for someone to have sex with in Cabo, she was game to go. And she was serious. And no, she didn’t go with me, but we totally made out that night, so there’s that), and I wound up meeting this girl on Tinder from Mexico City who was there on vacation, and she invited me out with her cousin to see Cabo, so I snuck out after my family went to bed, they picked me up, and we drove around Cabo, we stopped at a convenience store and I chatted up the Federales who were there hanging out with M-16’s slung over their shoulders, and then we went back to her cousin’s house (who lived in Cabo) to have birthday cake, and then they dropped me off at home, and they were totally fun, and I’m still friends with her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s one of Mexico’s foremost anti-poverty advocates. Her wild story? She once took off her bra through her shirt at book club held on a restaurant patio. She texted me a few days later and said she didn’t think we our lifestyles were compatible.

But there’s more…

• The Life Coach: I went out on two dates with a life coach (and let’s face it, we all know I could use a life coach). The first date went awesome. We went to a cool wine bar in South Minneapolis called St Genevieve. It turns out she’s literally allergic to everything (including alcohol). And a huge shout-out to the staff there. It took her about 10 minutes to order, since she needed to ensure that the meal could be prepared without any stuff she was allergic to. They were so incredibly patient with her, and very caring. So, I encourage all of you to spend money there. Plus, Kate Upton and Justin Verlander have been known to hang out there. I’m just saying.

So, the date goes well, and I invite her to go boating on the following Saturday afternoon on Lake Minnetonka (I’d gotten a last second boat through my boat club). She agreed, and we had a date. At the end, she was talking about how she was trying to branch out with dating and have new experiences, including going to a soccer game (put a pin in this one).

So, she texts me the day before boating, and she forgot she had a late-afternoon hair appointment, and couldn’t make it, but wanted to see if I could do brunch on Sunday. I say fine (narrator’s voice: She was totally giving you the “I need to wash my hair excuse”).

We get together for brunch, and it’s like I’m dating an entirely new person from the first date, and not in a great way (which has happened to me more times than I can count, I even have a name for it now…the Jekyll/Hyde Effect…it usually happens when they’ve met someone between dates with me, and they’re just there going through the motions because they committed to it…which is basically the ninth level of hell of dating. The professional equivalent is writing corporate goals/objectives for the coming year).

We sit down, and the bartender in a very welcoming way sets down two waters. She snaps at the bartender “I didn’t ask for water. I’d like club soda instead.” I shoot her a look that basically says “There were better ways to handle that one.” She picks up that I’m annoyed, and notes that she’s just moved from California, and due to the water shortage there, you need to ask for water. I note that we’re not exactly hurting for water here (Land of 10,000 Lakes, right?), and that there’s a dam in Wisconsin about ready to burst since there’s so much water. Then we start talking about how the prior week (week of July 4) was so weird. I mentioned that it was awkward that July 4 fell in the middle of the week. Her response? “No! There’s serious planetary disruption occurring in the solar system. Mercury is in retrograde!” I had to bite my tongue, since the first words out of my mouth were going to be that I’m so glad that President Trump has proposed the Space Force, so we can LOCK DOWN THAT PLANETARY NONSENSE SHIT. Then we got into an argument over whether Apple Airpods were usable on planes (I said yes…she said no…and then she accused me of not turning my phone on airplane mode during the flight….and I do that religiously, but you can still have bluetooth on…and she didn’t believe me…and we bickered). Then the food showed up, and there was toast on her plate (and in her defense, she clearly asked for no toast). She threw a holy fit there was toast on the plate (she’s allergic to bread), and demanded it to be sent back. The restaurant was very accommodating, and things got sorted out. I asked her how her evening was the previous night, and she mentioned she was supposed to go to a soccer game, but it turns out it was an away game, so she walked some tightrope between two trees near Lake Calhoun. All of a sudden I recalled…..she mentioned that going to a soccer game was a date thing she was doing, and that she had probably double-booked herself for the night before, so I got the lame “hair appointment” excuse. Brian out. Once she finished her last bite, I asked for the bill, and rushed the date to conclusion.

And here’s the coup de grace…..

• ATLDA Girl: So, this past spring I went out a few times with a girl who was younger than me. Like a lot younger than me. Probably inappropriately so. I won’t say how young, but she was at least Above The Legal Drinking Age (ATLDA).  We went out a few times, but I don’t think either of us was all that into it. The last time we hung out, she kinda-sorta drunk texted me asking me to pick her up from some formal thing, still wearing a formal dress (by the way, some of the best advice I’ve ever received is that if she’s not drunk-texting you from the bar, you’re not the one….), so I did, and we wound getting more drinks someplace, and then we went back to my place and finished off a bottle of wine, and both of us pretty much passed out (not proud, but it happens). So, we wake up the following morning, and all she’s got is the formal dress, which would have been the ultimate Walk of Shame, so I find her some gym shorts and my favorite t-shirt to wear (such a strategic mistake…), and I drive her back to her place, on the assumption that I’d see her again and get my favorite t-shirt back. No dice. I fly to NYC for a business trip the next day, and we text a bit, and then she doesn’t respond when I ask her how her day is going, so I figure we’re done, which is probably for the better. Both of us run silent, and that’s that. Clean break.

That’s rational Brian talking. Rational Brian is brilliant. Rational Brian uses the wealth of dating data points that he’s accumulated in his storied dating career, and makes a reasoned decision when it comes to dating choices. Rational Brian determined that ATLDA Girl was too young, and needed to experience the world and sow some oats, and not worry about some 43-year old dude, and that we were going to sacrifice my favorite t-shirt for this noble cause (plus, I’m pretty sure I can buy another one).

Then there’s Drunk Brian. Where Rational Brian ponders and deliberates………Drunk Brian executes.

And Drunk Brian struck a few weeks ago at a concert – Def Leppard/Journey to be exact. (“Photograph” by Def Leppard is easily in my Top 10 songs by the way). I went with some friends and their wives, and everyone was coupled up everywhere, and I was the rando single dude, and I was feeling lonely (to wit, on that same day, I had two women who were totally intriguing, and with whom I’d been chatting with through Bumble, email me within the span of three hours saying I was totally intriguing, and but they’d gone on this great first date the night before, and decided they needed to focus on the One-Date Wonder. Ouchies.). And I had been drinking. So Drunk Brian took over. Drunk Brian said it was time to check-in with ATLDA Girl. If only to negotiate the successful liberation of the favorite t-shirt she was presently holding hostage. So I texted her, she texted back. And we talked about getting a drink sometime so I could get my favorite t-shirt back. The next evening, Drunk Brian took hold again, and texted her around 10:00 on a Saturday night and asked whether she wanted to meet for a drink. She said sure, but was meeting someone for a drink for awhile, but could meet up afterwards, but only had an hour or so (which should have been my first red flag).

So, she texts me after awhile, and says she can meet, and I suggest someplace downtown near me. She says sure, and I offer my second garage spot to her so she wouldn’t have to worry about parking (which is a mess in the North Loop on a Saturday night), and we could walk over to the bar across the street.

We wound up just hanging at my place with a bottle of wine, and we caught up. Turns out she’s dating two different guys, one of whom she says is a “super high-up executive” who’s older than me. And she doesn’t talk about the other guy much. Whatever. We talk about what happened between us (she wanted to know why I disappeared, I wanted to know why she didn’t respond to my text message, and she wanted to know why I didn’t try harder). So we go down that rabbit hole.

Now, it’s important to understand the architecture of my place to fully grasp the next outrage perpetrated against me. I live on the North Loop’s most busy thoroughfare, with a kitschy garage door between my living room and patio, which is directly on the sidewalk of said thoroughfare. It’s an amazingly warm July night, so I have the garage door open. While we’re talking, some car pulls up across the street and starts revving the engine, real douche-like. I’m like “what the hell is that?” And she says “Oh, that’t the other guy I’m dating. I told him where I was at, and he’s coming by.” So, this random Bro From Blaine come strutting into my living room, and he’s giving me this “Who the hell are you” look, and I’m probably giving him the same look, and we’re instantly sizing each other up. Dear God.

In order to defuse the situation, I offer him a drink and try to be cordial. We formally chit-chat for a bit, and I give him a tour of my loft (it’s sweet, and it’s expensive, and I wanted him to understand the resources he was up against…because it was “on” at that point. Dudes will be dudes). They decide to leave, and she wants to get her car out of my garage. However, she’s pretty drunk at that point, and I don’t think she should be driving. I suggest she could leave her car in my garage, and come get it the next day. She agrees, and appears thankful. They leave.

The next day, she texts me around noon, and says she’s on her way. Awesome. She then texts she’s at the garage door, I go out there, and she’s in some T-Top Camaro thing with him and he’s waiting at the garage door. And she’s in the same dress that she was wearing last night. I open the door, he drives in, and in an obvious show of force, he parks right next to her car, and sits there and waits for her to get in her car, all the while staring at me. We awkwardly stand by her car, and it’s clear he won’t leave until she’s in her car. In other words, he’s making sure I don’t have a second alone with her. So we say goodbye, and that’s that.

We talk about getting a drink at some point afterwards (because I still want my favorite t-shirt back), but it doesn’t happen.

Then…weird shit happens. I’m in Sioux Falls last week, minding my own business. I get this text from her that says “I hear you were at JD Hoyt’s last night.” I indeed was in JD Hoyt’s that last night, and she wasn’t there. So, I’m all like How the Fuck did you know that??? She says “Little Birdies” and then fesses up that the older dude that she’s dating saw me. I’m all like “How does the older dude know who I am?????”

Then even more weird shit happens. Flash-back. One of the nights we went out, we went to the Freehouse to close the night. I remember she abruptly ended the evening after going to the bathroom, saying a friend was at the Pourhouse and was having trouble with a guy, and she need to be there for her. I’m like, cool. Be there for your friend.

Flash ahead to the evening with the Bro from Blaine. She’s telling me about the older dude, and says she met him at the Pourhouse that night. Ok, fine. Whatever.

Flash ahead to last week when I’m inquiring about how the older dude knows who I am. “He was at the Pourhouse that night.” I note that I wasn’t at the Pourhouse that night – she went there without me. Then it dawns on me. She’s confusing the Pourhouse for the Freehouse. “Do you mean the Freehouse?” ATLDA: “Yes.”

OMFG. This older douche totally met her while we were at the Freehouse together that night. I have no idea how this outright treachery happened. I don’t know if he made a move when I went to the bathroom, or whether he followed her when she left for the bathroom. I have not one fucking clue. And I don’t think I want to know the answers. All I know is that this older douche hangs out at my favorite spot (JD Hoyt’s. Try a margarita made by Sarah. In fact, ask her for a Sarahgarita. She’ll totally know what you’re talking about. You won’t regret it…and it may change your life…in a very positive way), and knows who I am, and I have no fucking clue who he is. I’ve been going through my mental tapes from that night (I went there after a Twins game), and it wasn’t busy. But I just can’t place him.

This aggression cannot stand.

This shit only happens to me.

All I want is my favorite t-shirt back.

And again. If you made it through this mini-treatise…I owe you a drink.