Coffee, Disappointment, and Pickles

I'm sure you've guessed by now, Coffee Guy was not "it." What a short blog this would be. Though, before he left, he said we would go out later that evening for dinner. I expected him to sleep most of the day, considering I had kept him up until six a.m. So I wasn't too concerned when I didn't hear from him. Biting my already chewed nails and waiting ever so patiently, the ding of my phone alerted me to his text message that had finally arrived. He said that he was feeling sick, however did not say that he was canceling our date. I figured it was safe to assume that when he manned up and stopped whining about his "hangover," he would be knocking on my door to whisk me away to our wine-and-dine session. Yeah, good luck with that one!

Hours went by and I sat anxiously, twiddling my thumbs, having heard nothing from this man. Rather than sit around and pout, I did what any normal girl would do. Make plans with someone else. I had been speaking to another man on Match.com for a day or two, and I had wallowed in my sorrows for long enough, so I decided to take him up on his "ice cream" offer. Cue Mr. Pickles.

Mr. Pickles was an interesting man and far from my type, but I thought I would give it a go. He had red hair and freckles, which is not my cup of tea, but the desperation kicked in and I was not about to sit at home alone. Didn't Coffee Guy know what fun and excitement he had abaonded by blowing me off? Well, I'd show him!

I got ready and drove to Coldstone Creamery, where I met Mr. Pickles. He was an odd man and conversation was a struggle. He had the worst table manners of anyone I had ever seen. He ordered the biggest ice cream available and downed in it less than a minute, using the back of his sleeve to wipe the dribbles of ice cream from his chin. Disgusting. I was so done with this date, but having some class, I wasn't about to be rude and bail. I started texting my babysitter, asking her to call me and tell me the kids were sick so I would have an excuse to high-tail it outta there!

As we were talking, he asked "Are you hungry?" Hungry? Do I look like a fat cow to you? I just ate an entire bowl of ice cream. How could I possibly be hungry? Well, apparently he was a fat cow trapped in an unattractive, redheaded and freckled man's body because he was hungry and decided we needed to walk across the street to the Subway, so he could torture me with more of his horrid table manners. I had to suppress my overwhelming excitement. He just continued to flash that stupid grin and off to Subway we went. Didn't the babysitter get my text?! SOS means save me! Abort, abort! Gah, get me out of here!

He ordered a footlong italian sub. Cue the italian sauce smothering his face and chin and his once clean and crisp white shirt now drenched in sauce. [insert imitation vomit sound here]. I was so disgusted I didn't know what to do with myself. That's when I realized who he was. I must have looked like a deer in headlights in that moment because the sheer horror I felt knowing that I had been sharing my personal space with this man was quite disturbing, yet hilarious at the same time. I have the most rotten luck.

A few weeks prior to this day, a man had sent me a message on the website. "Hi my name is... (you really think I remembered this fool's name? Get real!) and you are really beautiful. My hands smell like pickles because I just ate the last two pickles from the pickle jar. Hope you are having a good day! Hope to hear from you soon!"

Um, excuse me? Who says that? What a ridiculous pick-up line. I never responded, but having watched him devour the ice cream and sandwich, it dawned on me--I was in the prescence of Mr. Pickles! How could I have let this happen? Desperation at it's finest, ladies and gentlemen. Moral of the story? If one date bails, stick to Ben and Jerry's!