Best of Luck

Saturday I was going to have drinks and play shuffleboard with Dr. Zhicago. As I'm turning the corner to meet him, I'm talking to him on the phone and see him staring in the opposite direction, at a hot brunette in a tank top and mini skirt, and he goes, "Oh yeah, I see you coming." Wrong. I had to inform him that I was the one behind him in jeans. He laughed and apologized but I'm sure he was mildly disappointed that I wasn't dressed like a Jerry Springer guest.

So first impression was he was very cute, had beautiful light green eyes, and was totally oblivious to how pale his legs were in his khaki cargo shorts. Not that I'm attracted to men who recreationally tan, but these were blindingly white.

Anyway, we got to the bar and had a beer and got to know each other a bit. Then we decided to play a game of shuffleboard, and he orders us Long Islands. I thought those were reserved for chain-smoking soccer moms with big hair and acrylic nails, but I went with it. And then I went and kicked his butt in shuffleboard. At first we were tied, but after he told me he'd been "letting me win" I decided it was time to shut him up. And watching him squirm over losing was the best part of the day.

After losing twice, he suggested we sit down and chat a little more. It was at this point he thought it was appropriate to ask me what I thought of him. Alright. I told him the PC version, "you're really nice and smart and polite and if you order me another Long Island I'm going to start calling you Lolita." He then told me how he'd been dating around and met some 28-year-old from his church but now they were just friends. He also said he knew his accent was charming, which immediately made it un-charming.

With that, we decided it was time to go home. We get out of the cab in front of a park that's in between our homes, and he suggested we walk a bit. It was then I realized he was panicking over how to say good bye. So Mr. Smooth says, "Let's watch these kids" and stops in front of the childrens' play area. He asked if I liked kids, and I sarcastically said no, but he thought I was totally serious. So he's staring at the children and I'm looking anywhere but at the kids, because as much as I love them, it's totally creepy to watch little Billy swing for 5 minutes.

Finally I said thank you for the date and he decided to give me a performance review and tell me how nice and fun I am. Then, he stretches his arms out to hug me, and says, "I really like you.....best of luck." I don't know if he said anything else because I blacked out from the awkwardness. I said thanks and walked away completely unsure if he was blowing me off or if his brain short-circuited. Or maybe he just wanted to get back to staring at strangers' children.

Tuesday I'm getting sushi and drinks with the Canadian med student, so hopefully Tim Hortons is more normal than Dr. Z.

Round Two

After that first date, the second one was like a warm fuzzy. Whitesnake was cuter than his picture with a really nice smile. And dimples you just want to squeeeeeze.

We met for some drinks, and thanks to that martini I was cool as a cucumber (at least in my head I was). We chatted about our jobs, school, family, pretty much everything my previous date skipped over to get right into his baggage. So it was a breath of fresh air to have a normal date.

So we've got sweet, polite, and cute. Which is great. However, there were some cons. First off, we'll need a clothing intervention. He'd look great in a pair of jeans that weren't from Oshkosh B'Gosh, a Polo and some leather shoes.

And he's really shy. Which means he's withholding from me. And now I have to know more because I'm incredibly nosy (ask my little brother).

So I guess it's a good thing he suggested hanging out on Sunday. Let the investigation begin.

In the meantime, I'm really excited about my date with Dr. Zhicago tomorrow. We talked on Thursday night, and that boy's accent could melt butter. I hope he's as charming in person.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

With the exception of a blind date, you usually know what a person looks like before agreeing to a social outing. It's only smart to make sure you're at least attracted to that person's initial appearance before going on a date with them. So why do I feel so guilty for asking a guy to send me a photo of himself before saying yes to dinner this weekend?

I mean, what do you do if you get his photo, and realize he was smart to just post that one photo his mom took of him at the top of a mountain...when she was at the bottom?

Case in point: Dr. Zhicago only had a few photos on his profile, and 2 were from the side and 2 were from several paces back. So far he seemed really nice, but I had to wonder why he didn't have any just normal, up-close looking-right-at-the-camera pictures. It's not like he can stand 30 feet away from me our entire date (maybe that's why he suggested tennis).

After hearing my aunt's theory that Dr. Z strategically placed photos on his profile that would be untraceable by the cops when they came looking for my abducter, I cringed and asked him for an up-close shot of his face. After a few days without a reply, I started to think my aunt was right and I'd dodged my milk carton debut.

Well, this morning I signed on to find a message and photo in my inbox from Dr. Z. And he's really cute. So I agreed to meet him this weekend and gave him my number.

Here's to blatant superficiality.

Rain Delay

Well, I've decided to reschedule my two dates for this week, because I'm sorry to say, I've got a wicked cold. And before you bend your fingers into a W, do me a favor: squeeze your nose together with a clothespin, rub your outer nostrils with the coarsest of sandpaper, and then tell me if you still feel like a sexy beast.

The defense rests.

Therefore, I've moved drinks with Dr. Zhicago and ice cream with Whitesnake to next Thursday and Friday, respectively. However, I have enjoyed my first few phone convos with Whitesnake. But now I worry that since we actually get along and he's not an over-sharer and seems to have a cute personality, I'm going to turn the corner and instead of finding Christian Slater a la Bed of Roses, it'll be Steve Buscemi a la....anything.

I need more cold meds.

What's Up Doc?

It's time to discuss age. Specifically, what age range is appropriate for me, at 27, to be dating within? If I were on a game show, and my options were Zac Efron, Prince William and George Clooney....well, I'd have to cross the pond. And not because he's good looking. Or has a castle. And a country. No, I'd choose him because he's a few years older than me, and we'd have the most in common.

But Prince William isn't online dating. However, a cute Tennessee-native who's just moved to the area for med school has asked me to go to the planetarium and then grab dinner this weekend. And while all signs point to yes (intelligent, attractive, I'm totally meant to be a doctor's wife), I'm leaning toward saying no because...he's....25. Before you groan and roll your eyes, I haven't said no to Dr. Zhicago (that one's for you Mom) YET.

I'm torn. I mean...one date?