Did He Really Say That?

Last night, I dreamt I kicked someone I know fairly well in the balls. Unfortunately, I woke up with a start to realize I had almost drop kicked poor Manny out of the bed. He's still trying to figure out what he did wrong. (Typical male.)

It's too bad I had to wake up during the best part of the dream. Manny only got kneed in his side; the protagonist in what was, up until that final, deliriously satisfying moment, a nightmare, got a good clean shot to the nuts at point blank range. I can't wait to go to bed tonight so I can catch the sequel.

I guess I've taken the no-dating vow to heart -- for fear that my friends will string me up by my toenails if I go back on my word. I have taken to demonizing men as a species, even when I'm not conscious. I did get a gratuitous email this morning, though, from the dating site that would not accept me because of my theoretically "not single" status. (If I'm not single, by the way, why am I lying on my couch alone every night watching NCIS reruns?) But I digress.

The email was a teaser for one of those highly inspirational and informative newsletters all the dating sites send out from time to time, a bit of reassurance to the more pathetic among us that Mr. Right is out there; it's only a question of strategy. The article that caught my eye was "Ten Things Women Never Want to Hear on a Date." In my experience, the thing I usually don't want to hear from the guys I've met is "when can I see you again?" but that wasn't on the list. It was the kind of stuff you wouldn't necessarily think of as problematic without the cyber experts there to clue you in, like "I still live with my wife," or "next time we meet, could you wear a mini skirt and six inch heels?" I'll have to try to remember that those are bad signs.

My last date ever -- the one I went on several days prior to making my vow -- was with a guy who claimed in his profile he was fifty-five but went on to explain a few paragraphs down that he was really older but because people never think he looks older than fifty-five he's chosen that as his official number. We exchanged a few emails, and though he got huffy that I had the nerve to ask his real age (had he not opened the door?), he confessed pretty quickly that he was sixty-two.

Well, whatever. I was long overdue for a meal in a nice restaurant, and he mentioned several times in his profile how successful he has been, so I agreed to meet him. The first thing he asked me was how old I thought he looked. So I'm standing there thinking sixty-two, you old geezer, which wouldn't bother me at all if the guy wasn't so obsessed about it. At least my steak was good.

Here's my suggestion for the eleventh thing women don't want to hear on a date: a dissertation on the benefits of wheat grass, which tastes pretty nasty but is really good for the skin. This man was actually telling me to follow his skin care regimen so my face could look as good as his. He wasn't even the guy I kicked in the nuts in my dream.

And my friends think it'll be tough for me to stick with the no-dating vow!