(Mis)Matched: Part II

I know I alluded to the fact that I had three dates in three days. In truth, it was really 2.5 dates, a booty call and another date in 6 days. Two guys were great and the other was my idea of a living nightmare. I guess I should start chronologically:

Date 1: Monday

Blonde hair, blue eyes, 6'2" attorney, age 33. Extremely well-dressed, very handsome. We went to a bar in the East Village. I wore an extremely tight black dress, I think I pulled something while sucking it in the whole night. Wore my peep toe Louboutins (courtesy of my ex-boyfriend, that s.o.b.).

We had a couple of drinks, good conversation, typical nervousness at the beginning. Ended up near the West Village at another bar and ended in a brief make-out session at his place. Will I call him again? Not likely. Mainly because he wants to go to a sex club and partly because I find attorneys a little stiff and not in the good way....next!

Date 2: Tuesday

Brown hair, brown eyes 5'9" (I'll explain), graphic designer, age 37. I wore a black and white work dress, flats (knowing he'd be the size of a Keebler elf). I stupidly invited him to a Rangers game after a great conversation on Sunday night. We were originally supposed to get drinks on Thursday, but in a moment of impulsiveness, I gave him my extra ticket to the Rangers game at Madison Square Garden.

He had advertised himself as being 5'9" but when I met him at Borders, he was really 5'7" and looked MUCH older than his advertised age of 37. Hard living if I ever saw it. His email to me was nice and he had admitted that he was a little shorter and a little older than I was looking for. I thought I was being open-minded...well, never again! I knew the moment I met him that I wasn't going to like this date. After hours of his chewing with his mouth open, nose-blowing and general complaining that hockey's a violent sport (no shit, that's why I like it); I thought about excusing myself to go the bathroom and never come back (a lesson I learned from a special someone ;)).

Even though every cell in my body was screaming at me to leave, I didn't. I'm just not that mean. I admit that it's a little narcissistic to think that he would have been crushed. I guess some men need a sledge hammer to get the message through. The whole night he kept trying to lean towards my side and I kept leaning away from him. It must have looked hilarious to the people sitting behind us.

I soldiered through and dare I say that I'm a stronger person because of it? Maybe. Either way, I promptly lost his number after I sprinted to the cab.

Day 3: Wednesday (St. Patrick's Day)

Brown hair, brown eyes, 5'11", consultant, 29. I wore skinny jeans, python flats and a tight gray shirt. Possibly the sweetest guy you will ever meet. A perfect gentleman, handsome but maybe not enough of an edge for me? I met up with him and his roommates around 11PM. I had just gotten home from my Wednesday night tradition with my gay husband and M mentioned he'd be around my neighborhood.

We had some chicken wings and some beer and it was great. Walked me home and offered me his coat. Made plans for brunch on Sunday.

Part III: booty call and then some...

Lesson Learned: always carry some roofies in case your date sucks. Roofie the shit out of him and then take a cab home. Buy yourself something nice the next day to wash away the painful memories.