What’s in the Tackle Box?

4 Aug

Two weeks ago, I arranged a blind date with a guy who seemed pretty nerdy, but had piqued my interest with a couple funny messages.  Without thinking, I agreed to meet him in Prospect Heights after I got out of work in the West Village.  Not only is that area no where near where I live in Brooklyn, it is not convenient to get to by any train in close proximity to my job.  As if his inconvenient choice of bar didn’t cloud my outlook on this date enough already… I nearly canceled after perusing his profile once more to learn he was younger than I and looked like he was missing a finger or two in one of his pictures.  I decided to suck it up and begrudgingly headed towards the bar we were meeting at in Prospect Heights after work.  Once above ground, I walked several blocks in the pouring rain, without an umbrella.  By the time I got to the bar, I was soaked and looked a mess.  “Joe” arrived a few minutes later, as nerdy in person as I had gathered he would be from his profile.  He had dark brown hair, a hearty helping of lips, a slouched posture, and all of his fingers.  He was incredibly awkward from the beginning and kept saying “You can leave if you want…” which made me wonder if he was hoping I would take him up on the offer.

The bar ended up being right up my alley (dark, classic rock, beef franks).  Actually the menu was the best part- it featured options such as “Dad’s Sausage Pizza”, “Frankfuhrer”, “Mozzarella Sandbitch”, and “Fist Tacos”.  I don’t think I would have found that as funny if I hadn’t consumed two monstrous brews on an empty stomach.  While ordering my beef frank, I momentarily lost control of my extremities and stabbed myself in the face with the menu.  Unfortunately, it was not the last of my injuries that evening.  Later, the lock on the bathroom sliced open my finger and I spent the last twenty minutes of our date bleeding.  Since I was already on a roll, I decided to completely let down my guard with Joe to loosen him up.  He talked about doing real estate things, how he was in a band, and how I should totally audition for it.  He asked what my sign was and, when I told him Scorpio, he said he needed to go lie down.  I called him out on his deception when answering the astrology question on OKCupid with “Virgo, but it doesn’t matter.”  It seemed like he was flirting with me, but then again he was very strange, so I wasn’t sure.  He had a dry sense of humor that worked well with mine, and I spent a good amount of the night laughing.

Leaving the bar, I hinted that it would be nice if he could at least give me a ride to the train stop (it was late, still raining, he hadn’t paid for any drinks, and his car was parked out front).  Thankfully, he got the message and dropped me off at home.  I thanked him for a lovely evening and told him to send me his band’s music so I could check it out.  He sent it to me later that night, but I was wrapped up with preparing to go out of town, so I forgot to email him back about it.  A few days later I received this email from him:

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you are pretty fucking cool.  I just don’t think I am manly enough to go out with you.  I just felt kinda weird not getting in touch with someone after I had a good time with them, even if I don’t think I am manly enough to continue to see them.  I do not believe any reply is required on your part in this case, unless you think I am in fact manly enough, and I should continue to pursue you in a certain way, or just try to get into your pants, which is a pigheaded notion.  Anyway, I hope you enjoyed those silly songs I sent you, and hope you find a nice muscly dude in brooklyn with big arms and 5 or 6 tackle boxes that makes you happy.”

The funny thing is, I actually did enjoy his band’s music.  And he had definitely made me laugh- a rarity amongst OKCupid guys (I’ve certainly honed my fake-laughing prowess thanks to my experience in online dating).  I don’t think I’ve dated a “muscly dude” in my entire life, so I don’t know where that came from.  The tackle boxes on the other hand… I ONLY date men who own at least five tackle boxes.  This guy clearly didn’t cut it in the tackle box category, so he’s going to have to move right along.  As for me?  I will continue to surge forth in search of the man with the best and brightest bait in his box.

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