Super Freak

You'd think by now that I'd know better than to assume a date is going to be great fun. That I'd know by now that the times I assume everything is going to be peachy keen is when it's going to be a disaster. Case in point: I was supposed to meet Superman for drinks a week ago. And I was really looking forward to it.

So the day rolls around, and I get a text from him that says, “Hey love, may have to reschedule.”

Um, I beg your pardon? Love? You’re not LL Cool J, so don’t call me Love. And yes, I’d let LL Cool J call me Love, and would be totally fine with it.

Anyway, I replied with, “Love don't live here anymore.” Just kidding. But I wanted to. I said, “No worries. Keep me posted.” Not even sure what that means, but he thought it was hilarious, because he replied with, “lol. Tx will do.”

He’s a school teacher and he texts like a tween.

Anyway, I figured that was that, and went on with my day. Well, that was certainly not that. Because around 3 p.m., my phone buzzed and I had a new text from Superman (which, I’m beginning to think I was a little generous with that name, guys).

So I opened up my phone and found this little gem: “want to go to that one place?”

Well yes, I’d love to go to that one place. Who doesn’t want to go to that one place? That one place is great!

Pretty confident he was trying to make plans with someone other than myself, I replied with, “Sure.”

Ten minutes later, after assumedly pacing around his classroom trying to figure out how to politely tell me he meant to invite someone else, Superman replied with the obligatory “lol” followed by, “sorry wrong person.”

Oh, I’m aware. At no point did I think the invitation to that one place was meant for me. A minute later, he texted again. “Friend in town for the night, ie: why I canceled. How’s next week?”

There were just so many things wrong with that message, I couldn’t reply. But he wasn’t done. A little after midnight, I was interrupted from my beauty sleep by a buzzing phone, and presumably a buzzing Superman.

He must have been out at that one place, and felt the need to text me, “what’s up.”

Weeknight booty call from a stranger? Get bent, Clark Kent (oh snap!).

I deleted his number and went back to bed.

NEXT!

You're Outta Here!

In our last episode, I introduced you all to engineer extraordinaire, Lex Luthor. Well we had made plans to get drinks last week on a patio, but then I canceled because it was a Tuesday night and the start of my beach volleyball league. But now the ball’s in my court, and I’m not so sure I want to even meet this man. Because I’m getting the feeling that he’s kind of....a douchebag.

The first time we chatted was via text convo. Which is pretty lame, if you ask me. What happened to days of yore, when the boy called the girl’s house, holding his breath, sweaty palms clutching his post-it containing his conversation points, praying her father didn’t answer, or that the breathing on the other line wasn’t her nosy little brother listening in on him ask her to the movies, his ego and street cred all on the line for 10 little words.

Anyway, Lex texted me to say that I should pick a day and we’d meet at this beer patio in between our ‘hoods and have some drinks. And he added, “Because I’m pretty busy and see no point in texting back and forth if only to meet and not hit it off.” Umm okay. I get that you don’t want a pen pal. Fine.

So I said that sounded good, and to tell me what his schedule was like.

Well this was right before Memorial Day weekend, and we both had fam coming to town, so he said, “Let’s try for June.” So Memorial Day comes and goes, and on the second of June I get a text from Mr. Luthor, asking if I could meet that following Tuesday.  Not realizing that my league started that night, I gave him the green light for our first date.

Four days before the big date, I realize my scheduling error (how could I forget beach volleyball??!!) and texted Lex with the news. He replied with, “Sure. I’m pretty busy so shoot me a date and we’ll make it happen.”

Well I went on my merry way through the weekend, not really thinking much more about the convo. Three days later, I shot him a text saying, “Wanna reschedule?” to which he replied, “So you’re telling me there’s a chance?” Thinking he was referencing Dumb and Dumber, I jokingly replied, “I’m tellin’ you there’s a chance!”

I don’t think he got the joke, because his text tone was as sour as a jar of lemon juice. “Okay. Well I’m really busy so you just tell me a date and we’ll make it happen. Good luck to you!”

Wait, what? Good luck?

He’s kind of a pissypants, if you ask me.  So I replied, “You too!” not really knowing why we were wishing each other luck, but not one to deal with passive aggression via text message.

Last night he asked me what my week looked like, and I haven’t replied to him yet. Idk. I get a bad vibe from him. If he’s this short and douchebaggy with a total stranger, what’s he going to be like to a girlfriend?

Whether he’s just a big fat jerk, or jaded from the dating scene, I don’t really care. I do not need to waste my time finding out.

But just in time, a super cute teacher who works with kids who have special needs and coaches baseball has come up to bat. We're getting together for appetizers this Thursday. 

So he's changing kids' lives and basically saving the world every day. I'm pretty excited about breaking bread with Superman.