A little while ago, I mentioned a matchmaking attempt by one of my friends. I can officially write it off as an epic fail. Why you ask? Cue dream sequence here...
Picture it, Upstate New York, Spring 2013. A gentleman whom we shall call *Tommy and I have been playing a mean game of cat and mouse. Finally we decide to meet. At this point, we have had one in-depth telephone conversation and a string of text messages that were, well, okay. Lunch seemed like a safe bet.
I picked a hip, up and coming part of town for the event. He arrived dressed in a black v-neck sweater, dress pants and casual shoes. I gave him a mental head nod for his style. That was about as good as it got.
Our original meeting place wasn't what he wanted, so we ventured out amongst the sea of restaurants to find a more suitable location. Settling into a low-key Thai restaurant, we asked each other the customary questions: how has your day been, what are your plans for the evening, do you have any communicable diseases (okay, so maybe not the last one...gotta keep you on your toes). All was well until he asked me about work. Somehow the conversation took a horrible turn for the worst:
Tommy: Tell me about your job.
Me: Well, I work in *****. It looks pretty small on the outside, but it's a lot bigger inside. That's because...
Tommy: That's what they say about me.
Tommy: That's what they say about me. Oh, that went over your head. Let me tell you something about me, I make dirty jokes about 90% of the time.
Me: Ummm...okay. The company itself is multi-national, but it's not too big.
Tommy: That's what she said.
Seriously?! There's no way we could ever date. I couldn't even get through a conversation with him, let alone a relationship. He was two seconds away from balancing a spoon on his nose. Fortunately, neither one of us followed up after lunch. Perhaps my inability to participate in witty repartee was a turn off.