Tuesday, September 24, 2002
( 8:38 AM ) Rebecca
Last week, I went on my first blind date since becoming a swinging single. On paper, this guy would give my mom a major orgasm with these three little words: Jewish. Doctor. Yale.
In person, well. Let’s just say it was a blind date. And you know how blind dates usually are. Lots of nervous anticipation thudding into dull disappointment. And plenty of alcohol to lubricate the conversation in the face of creeping boredom.
But this was not that kind of date. This boy was, how shall I say, a Baberaham Lincoln. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Perfect fair skin. Sweet brown eyes. And all his hair! Which was cut – if you can believe it – in that George Clooney style, which is too funny because he’s a pediatrician, just like George Clooney was on ER!!
Anyway. I would, of course, like to date this boy solely because it would make Loser so jealous. The Yale thing, for one, would drive him up the wall, because he’s sooo insecure about where he went to college (state school in the Midwest). The tall thing, for another, since Loser himself is only about 3’ 5”. And the gorgeous doctor part? Just frosting on the cake.
But seeing as I am now a more evolved person (and because he has not yet asked me on a second date), I have maintained an admirable detachment in this situation, and have not picked out my wedding dress yet. Plus, there were some possible personality flaws. And, thanks to wise fellow blogger Radmila, who advised keeping track of a guy’s major flaws and ditching him if the list reaches five in a short time, I am keeping my googly eyes wide open.
So I decided to check his references. I went to the source of the set-up, my friend M. in L.A. And I sent him the following e-mail:
Dear M., I met your pal Dr. S. last night I liked him. V. cute! But...while he is very charming and clever, I wonder -- does he have a serious side at all? Like does he ever talk about real stuff? I know he just met me, but it seems like he could possibly be all surface and no depth. Also, he didn't ask too much about me -- is he very self--absorbed? Give me "the scoop."
M. wrote back in golden, glowing prose:
Dr. S. is an amazing person. He's one of the kindest guys you'll ever
meet, but he's very much his own guy. Very goofy, very random,
incredibly funny. He does have a serious side. He cares about a lot
of things. He helped pass handgun legislation in California. He is a
fantastic drummer. He's a hellova doodlist.
But he's also not one to make small talk. I think he's the kind of
guy who feels comfortable wherever he is. He has zero self-consciousness.
But I wouldn't say that he's self-involved. He just goes with the
flow. It makes him the ideal guy to hang out with.
Dr. S. is definitely an aquired taste and takes some time to get to
know. How could you not like the guy, though? I'm glad you met him, whether
anything happens or not. If you have appendicitis, he's the guy to
I admit I fell for M’s hard-sell. That is, until I forwarded the e-mail to my panel of cynical gal pals (without whose tough-love advice this summer, I would now be occupying a room at the state mental hospital.) Instead of expressing their amazement at what a great guy Dr. S. appeared to be from M.’s e-mail, they expressed the following sentiments:
I don't know. I guess it depends on your taste, but in some ways people
who are their own person are real pains in the asses. Give me a
codependent any day!
ok, i was going to exercise this morning and didn't so
i'm in a crabby mood, so forgive my cynicism, but i
think that men have different standards of what makes
a person ideal to hang out with then women. M.
after all thought Loser was the greatest too. how
does someone have zero self-consciousness and feel
comfortable wherever they are--i think that's weird.
And sometimes you just GOTTA make small talk.
From GP#1 again.
HA! I see GP#2 takes MY view of things. I already told BB that the e-mail
from M. didn't impress me one bit. I don't trust people with zero
self-consciousness. Give me NEUROSIS!
So thanks gal pals for helping puncture the bright-colored balloons of my expectations. I needed that! Now where's the tequila?
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