After dropping the matchmaker, I’ve had three dates with the Journalist, attracted to his gift of conversation, love of all things cultural (books, music, film, comedy), passion for prison and mental health reform (he’s writing about the mentally ill in LA prisons at the mo’), reads books I recommend, and thinks I’m terrific. Little physical attraction but it’s early days. Of course his profile photo (on the dating site I deserted) was a decade old. WHYYYYY do men do this? Have I not eyes to see?

Anyhoo, he looks like he’s been left in the dryer too long, though he drives a nice, clean car. I feared that based on his Schmidt-like appearance, he drove a rusted out wreck littered with fast food trash and old newspapers. Hey, I gave him a second and third chance (or he, me, come to think of it) ’cause unlike the men interviewed in Have Him at Hello, who made up 16+ negative female stereotypes to shut the door on a second date, I’m not insane. Mentally ill, but not insane. He’s substance. His surface, well, we’ll see.

And I respect that he’s comfortable in his skin; so am I. Still, I bust my ass choosing an outfit and get my hair done to showcase my femininity, drool over his accomplishments (I didn’t actually do that last bit), and he shows up, gray balding “let it go, man” fly away hair, untrimmed eyebrows (matchmaker told ME my eyebrows needed waxing; HA BLOODY HA!), a thumbnail too long for my liking, in baggy attire (did he lose a ton of weight and not update his wardrobe?), interrupts my stories (he shares amazing stories but it annoys me ’cause I remember I interrupt, too), and gets away with it “because men don’t read dating books.”

Well, here’s a dating book for men. Don’t worry, it’s short. “Grooming: learn it, know it, live it. If you don’t own one, buy a mirror. Use it. Make an effort. Employ an objective set of eyes to ‘yea’ or nay’ everything before you walk out the door. Women carry two negative male stereotypes: clueless and asshole. Show up looking like your older brother in wrinkled clothes–clueless. The first hint of apathy, meanness, or condescension toward another being–asshole. Class dismissed!”

Rant over. Oh, except after walking me to my building door, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me on the lips, catching me completely off guard. A chaste kiss, but totally unfair. I ride the elevator to my floor, dazed and confused.


Lack of communication is unhealthy.

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