I know, it's not my style. Too much structure is a bad thing. And I tend to drive those types insane because I live without many lines guiding me. In fact, my previous internet ad specifically stated, "No Catholic engineers, please, you guys are too anal retentive for a gal like me." Or something to that effect.
But, it is Tehachapi and it's slim pickin's so I decided to go ahead and meet J, a 27 year old mechanical engineer from Lancaster. His hobbies include robotics, wearing khaki anything, and talking about the purchasing chain at an aerospace company.
I was hesitant from the get go because he's a bit young and he is an engineer, but, again, it is Tehachapi...And I didn't find out he was Catholic - like went to Catholic school and lived at home until he was 26 kind of Catholic - until about 2 pm Saturday. Still, I trudged on and decided it would be entertaining fodder for you, my true friends, if nothing else. So we decided to meet up and go to the local motorcycle rally fundraiser for a beer.
The first sign of impending date disaster occurred when he stepped out of his truck with this:
I believe it's a geranium? I must admit I have never been given a geranium in my life, let alone by a man on a first date. In fact, I've never heard of such a thing. I think these are the types of plants you bring to your ailing grandmother at the nursing home and even she'd rather not have it but she's too old and tired to protest. Let's face it, it's a botanical abomination with those big, waxy leaves and little odorless excuses for flowers. The kind of thing that you only find in grocery stores around greeting card holidays. And this confirms it:
See the Safeway pricetag? (Actually, I just noticed it when I took the picture as I was trying to figure out what sort of plant it was. Not a geranium?) Still, I smiled and thanked him graciously while simultaneously placing it center stage on my kitchen table. After all, it is the thought that counts, right? Note to men: Spend your $15.99 at Safeway on a 12-pack of Bass Ale or a bottle of wine. Even your grandmother would prefer it.
Those first few moments of a blind date are always a bit awkward so I offered him a beer and gave him a tour of the ranch, complete with puppies underfoot. After a beer and discussion of truffle prospects in the greater Tehachapi Valley, windmill mechanics, and solar technology, we headed to town to the poker run.
So we get to the rally and there's an admission fee (it is a fundraiser) of $10 per person. So I pull out a $20, intending to pay for myself as I believe first dates should be dutch treat, and J just says "Oh, thanks", gets his wristband, and walks in. No attempt to pay for himself or offer to pay for both. Just the presumption that I was paying for both. Of course, I didn't say anything because I'm a girl and we'd just met and it was only $10. Then again, I obviously haven't forgotten about it so make of it what you will.
Now, you know me, and you know I like a rough and tumble crowd. So a motorcycle rally at the VFW is right up my alley. Mind you, I do not look the part and was possibly the only person there in pink, but I can swill beer and comment on big pipes with the best of them. Poor J, however, seemed quite out of place and a bit intimidated. The music was loud coverband style rock and roll and the crowd was mellow in their black Harley attire in the 96 degree heat (record high here!). So we sat on a hay stack eating tri tip sandwiches, drinking lukewarm beer, him talking about something I could barely hear and did not care about: his job. Now, if you have an interesting job or something crazy happened at work, I can see talking about it. But if you're on a first date, trying to impress a girl at a biker rally, do not talk about late parts and having to make multiple phone calls to chase them. As he continued babbling about some parts for a special missile, naming each individual he works with, my eyes began to glaze over and I was just staring, smiling, as those with ovaries are genetically inclined to do. After about 10 minutes I just couldn't take it any longer so I said, "Okay, J, this is the most boring story I've ever heard, how about we talk about something else?"
Surprisingly, he agreed and said he has a tendency to babble when he's nervous. Then he admitted to not having lived away from home ever until this past year then went on and on about his grandmother and family. I then realized this guy hadn't done much living, and while I may be interesting to him, I need someone who is interesting to me. So I said I needed to get home to feed animals. He took me home and just stood in my front yard for a while, awkwardly, until I said, "Well, okay, this concludes our date." Then I scampered into the house to avoid any attempts at physical contact. I wasn't unpleasant about it, I just wanted to escape.
So this morning I got a long e-mail from J about how great a time he had. One glaring problem with the e-mail is that he wrote "Hi xxxxie!". My name is a long one, three syllables, and I use it in it's full form. I know it's difficult for some, and others are allowed to shorten it after knowing me a while. But I cannot stand when someone shortens my name and adds an -ie or -y on the end. I'm sure most folks feel the same, like going from Joe to Joey or Mike to Mikey or Jen to Jenny. We omit those childish -ies and ys once we are of legal drinking age, right?
Anyhow, back to the e-mail, it was very complimentary and I won't quote the whole thing but I have to give you this line as I think it shows he at least gets that I am a crazy pig lady:
Plus you have that kind of crazy, a little strange, sort of weird, most people are afraid of her, does what she wants, not going to find another one like her, kind of thing going on that I really dig...:)Maybe I'll use that line in my next ad.
