You know you’ve been waiting to hear the details of my final dating round!
I ended up having two dates on Friday night because The Big Bisou-Off guy had sent me a message the day before, but another guy sent me a message on Friday morning asking if I had free time that day. So here goes…
Date #1 With Guy #4
K. was the guy born on the East Coast, but raised in France. That came about because his parents separated or divorced, and his mother happened to be French. We were set to meet at Amelie at 5:30 p.m. Upon walking in and not seeing anyone that appeared to be him, I took my usual spot at the bar. As soon as he saw me, T. (one of the bartenders), came over, said “hello” and started lining up the champagne flutes. “How did you know?” I joked. He said “I’m pretty sure I know what you want by now!” Not long after my champagne flight had been poured, K. walked up and asked if I was Tina. Then he took a seat next to me. I hadn’t recognized him because, not only was his hair different, but he was drinking a beer! What guy raised in France goes to a French wine bar and drinks beer?!?! As for his hair, he was now sporting a mohawk of sorts. He was still rather cute. We talked about our associations/ties with France, food and restaurants that we like, how we ended up in San Francisco (though he now lives in Santa Cruz), French language idiosyncrasies, the dating site and so forth. When we finished our round, I had another champagne flight. He decided to have a flight of reds, but made the mistake of asking T. for it in French. T. was slightly brusque in telling him that he didn’t speak French. K. mentioned that T. had an accent, but I assured him that it wasn’t French. Later on, T. warmed up to K. more and told him that he’s from Turkey. Somewhere in our conversation, I let K. know that another date awaited me in North Beach at 9:00 p.m., but had assumed that he needed to be back in Santa Cruz and that the drive would be a little long. He said that the drive would take about an hour and a half, depending on traffic. Even so, K. was kind enough to offer to drop me off in North Beach. Once there, he parked the car so that we could have The Big Bisou-Off before parting. I’d say we had about four extended kisses, amidst a fair amount of laughter. Although K. is a fairly good kisser, he’s not among my top 3 or 4. When our time was up, he insisted that I won. Fortunately for him, it was very close to 9:00 p.m., which didn’t leave time to reap my reward of mangling French for at least an hour or even 10 minutes! We ended saying that we’d probably keep in touch. He’s not someone I picture myself dating, but it was a funny experience.
Date #1 with Guy #5
B. and I met at the bar at Panta Rei. I had only been sitting there a few minutes when he dashed in, sat next to me and asked if I thought he might have stood me up. “No. Why?” He asked if I’d been waiting long. I copped to drinking with someone else, who had dropped me off. “So you’re trashed already!” he joked. B. was born in L.A., but moved to NoCal when he was 18; he’s 42 now. He was somewhat attractive, but honestly looked better in his photos. His profile says he’s a chef/cook and that he speaks Indonesian. I asked if he’d been a chef somewhere in Indonesia. Apparently, he’s a “surf guide” who also cooks on the boat. Since they often go to Sumatra, he’s picked up a fair amount of Bahasa. He showed me pictures of some of the boats for the tours, as well as pictures of the food he’d made. The food looked fine, but not like some major gourmet effort. Aside from assembling a plethora of ingredients, Indonesian food doesn’t seem that difficult to prepare, though I could always be wrong. B. talked a lot and was rather loud. In the time I had four beers, he had seven or eight. The bartender, R., also brought us complimentary tiramisu. I was joking with B. and said “Saya mau makan eggs benedict,” which means “I want to eat eggs benedict.” To that, he replied “Oh, so you’re inviting me over for the night!” What?! I asked why he thought that. His explanation was that he’d have to stay over to make breakfast for me. I explained that my weekend wake-up time is often early afternoon on the weekends, so it would be fine if he went home, then came by later to make the eggs benedict for me (of course, he wasn’t really invited at all!). Then he asked if men truly sent me naked pictures of themselves, which I affirmed. “Classy!” he said. Yet in the same breath, he said that he’d send me pictures of himself doing yoga while naked, though I wouldn’t be able to see his “junk.” Ummm, ok. Whatever. At one point, B. went to the restroom and returned to find me chatting to the bartender in my limited Italian. He seemed ever so slightly jealous, but commented that at least I wasn’t on my cell phone checking messages like other women. I teasingly said that I did that while in the bathroom! He seemed to take me seriously, though. I was NOT checking messages in the bathroom ’cause my cell phone was in the pocket of my coat, which was sitting on the bar stool! Another time when he came out of the restroom, he sat on my right hand side when he’d previously been sitting on my left hand side. His reason was because he has a scar on the right hand side of his mouth from surfing (so must have been self-conscious). Yes, I’d noticed, but hadn’t said anything about it. (However, what type of competent surf guide incurs an injury from his own surfboard?) Anyway, B. then said that he didn’t like parts of my profile and kept harping on me to change it. When I made it clear that I had no intentions of changing anything, he said “Well, I almost didn’t contact you because of it.” “Well, you’re here now,” I responded. Then he said that Tina probably wasn’t even my real name. Next he commented that I was wearing “tacky Filipino” shoes. (That is going to bring a little diatribe all in itself. First of all, I was raised in Kansas amidst Caucasian people of German, Swiss, Swedish and Irish descent. I don’t have a single Filipino friend in San Francisco, and only had one in Los Angeles; none in Kansas. I’ve never been to the Philippines, don’t speak the language, don’t know much about the food and know very little about the culture. Therefore, I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what Filipinos tend to wear. Obviously, HE, classy man that he is, knows what Filipinos wear. All I know is that I was wearing flats with a buckle in a metallic color and, no, they weren’t even bought at a Filipino store; in fact, I think they’re a French brand!) So when B. lowered himself to hurling insults, I looked him up and down in his orange shirt, canvas shoes, scarred mouth and knowledge of Filipino dressing habits. “I might shove off” he threatened. “I wish you would” was my reply. With that, he stomped out. I could have cared less. Less than five minutes passed before he came back to apologize. He said “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened during that last part of the evening.” He actually said that twice, while I glared at him. I clarified, “I know exactly what happened. You drank too much, then became rude and obnoxious.” He didn’t have much to say after that. Besides, I ignored him from that point on and he left. Seconds later, another one of the Italian wait staff, L., came up behind me, started giving me a little neck rub and kept saying “Bella! Bella!” I wasn’t sure if L. had heard what had taken place and that was his way of consoling me, but… I was glad to be rid of that loser, B. I probably remained at the bar another 15 minutes, texting on my phone and talking to the wait staff before heading home. B. is a prime example of why I don’t particularly care to date American men any more, but prefer European ones.
Date #1 With Guy #6
Aside from being slightly hung over, I was in no mood to even meet the guy on Saturday morning. Yet I hate when others flake, so dragged myself over to the Samovar Tea Lounge in the Mission to meet L. at 1:00 p.m. Once again, I didn’t see anyone that resembled his photo, so took a seat and perused the menu. I admit, the menu was quite intriguing. Aside from their brunch menu, sandwiches and all kinds of teas, they have different types of tea services which includes a set menu of tea and food. The types of tea service are Moorish, English, Paleolithic, Japanese, Russian and Ayurvedic. Some time had passed without me seeing L., so I decided to order some Jasmine Pearl tea and crackers with roasted eggplant dip. Once I’d ordered, L. walked up to ask if I was Tina. His face and hair looked the same as in his profile photos, but he appeared to have put on some weight. We talked, but he seemed a little nervous. They asked if we’d like to get a table together, so we moved from the spot where I’d been sitting alone. L. inquired as to which tea service I would prefer. I was less enthused about the English tea service, so he decided on the Russian one. That service came with zavarka tea, tarragon-marinated beets, smoked salmon and horseradish, deviled egg with caviar, herbed crackers, more eggplant dip, fresh fruit (strawberries, cantaloupe, apples and oranges) and a fudge brownie. I didn’t try the zavarka tea, but the tidbits were quite tasty. L. is from Maine, has been out here maybe 15 years and is into making computer apps. He also likes to renovate houses, as well as discuss politics and math. He asked where I was when he’d originally sent me a message asking if we could meet. I explained that I’d been in Paris, to which he oohed and aahed over French food. That led us to talk about travel a little. He admitted that he’s married, has a child, also has a girlfriend and is bisexual, so he knows that there’s no way he’s the man I’m looking for! Yet he was curious to meet me and vice versa. I found him edgy, very polite and extremely intelligent. He asked if I’d had any bad dates, so I filled him in on the previous night. “What an asshole!” was his comment. We chatted for a few hours, but he had to meet someone else (though it was more work-related and not someone from the website). In fact, he said that he rarely bothers to set up meetings with anyone from the website; he just plays around on it when he’s between projects or when he’s bored. I walked him to his motorcycle and he said that he’d send me a message later, which he did. His message said that he’d enjoyed our conversation and was perfectly fine to leave it at that, but he would also be happy to meet again if I wanted to. He gave me his E-mail address and said the same; contact him or not, it’s up to me. Then he referred me to a link on political cartoons! I honestly would like to keep in touch with him, however; he’s quite a unique man and I think we could become interesting friends in the long run.
Date #1 with Guy #7
This morning was, what I’ve promised myself to be, the final date from the on-line dating website. I didn’t feel like showing up this morning, either, but… 10:30 a..m. found me at The Grove on Hayes. I didn’t even know there WAS a branch of The Grove on Hayes, having only been to the ones on Fillmore and Chestnut. I walked in, glanced at a guy that MIGHT be R., then sat on a chair and started playing on my phone. He eventually came over and introduced himself. In his profile pictures, R. seemed to have darker skin tone and hadn’t been wearing glasses. We stood in line to order; he had a spinach and cheese omelette with coffee while I had a cheese omelette with Mexican hot chocolate. In his profile, R. had said that he likes Hawaiian music. In addition, his “handle” contains a Hawaiian word. His profile also says that his ethnicity is black and Asian, so I asked where his ties to Hawaii came from. He simply said that he’s interested in the Hawaiian culture and loves the music, especially the older, more traditional Hawaiian music. R. grew up in San Francisco, but isn’t crazy about the weather here. He does marketing, but currently is unemployed, but quit his job within the last 6 months because he wasn’t happy there. He believes it’s of ultimate importance to be happy where you work since you spend the majority of your time there. We talked about the website, too; he said that he’s met a “handful” of people. He agrees with me in the sense that I believe most men look at the photos and don’t pay as much attention to what the profile says. He said that the website should ask more discerning questions so that people could get better matches. One of his examples was that the website asks if you’d be interested in dating people of other races/ethnicities. Your choices are “Yes” or “No,” but you can’t specify which races/ethnicities. I found R. to be very nice, confident and well spoken. I admitted that I intend for him to be my last date. “You’re giving up?” he asked. I said that setting up dates and actually going on them takes a lot of time. Since I hadn’t met anyone that I have a connection with in the month and a half or two months that I’ve been on there, it’s time for me to concentrate on my other projects and my vacation plans. If I feel like trying again, it will be several months from now! When we parted, we merely said “Nice meeting you. Goodbye.” We made no mention of keeping in touch.
That was my experience with on-line dating. Overall, I’m disappointed, though I wasn’t expecting much to begin with. Maybe a few of these guys will end up being my friend, but it won’t kill me if none of them do. Someone on FB commented that it seemed like a season of “The Bachelorette.” I responded with “I didn’t hand out any roses, though. I sent everyone home!”