May 8, 2004. Mexican Restaurant by Bourgeois Pig, Hollywood.
I wore: jeans, black knit sweater top that is short sleeved and somewhat see through (I wore a camisole underneath). Kitten heels, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab perfume in “Old New Orleans.”
He wore (gag): a shirt I suspect he wanted to make him seem “casual” (it was kind of quasi Hawaiian print), cargo pants with a belt, with his cell phone holstered on his pants, shoes that appeared to be meant for wearing with a suit, but kind of crossed with a Doc Marten flair.
He was very good looking in his pictures. Hence, the initial internet name for him: “Mr. Yummy.” While he does look like his pictures, he is definitely better looking in his pictures. He’s thinner in person, and geekier in person, though not totally over the top geeky.
He walked in and said, “I yelled at you from across the street–Wow you look just like your pictures, how refreshing!” I used this as an opportunity to grill him on what OL-D women are like, and asked him if he had ever asked women to send him more pictures. He said, “Oh no, I would never do that.” I was a little disappointed, truth be told, that he said no–I would have liked to have seen him try to talk himself out of that hole.
We discussed his career and I determined he’s not as successful as I thought he was. It’s true, I’m splitting hairs to a certain degree here, but still that was a disappointment. He wasn’t general counsel for BigAssStudio as I had originally thought. Apparently he just did some contract work for them once (@@). Now he is a general counsel, but it’s for a smaller company.
He asked me about X-Box and I explained my match headline (“X-Box and Sandwiches,” for those playing at home) was a joke designed to grab male attention. He said, “Why would someone as attractive as you are need to do that. You’re so beautiful.” @@ He went on, “I mean can’t you just walk into a bar . . .” I interrupted, “I don’t go to bars. But yes, if I want to just sleep with men, I could just walk into a bar, it’s true. It’s true for pretty much all women.”
He asked about my dissertation and proceeded to try to argue away any importance it might have had in the grand scheme of things. I don’t think he intended to do this. However, although I felt he was intelligent enough to understand things, he was dangerously close to pissing me off the way many lawyers do when I discuss my profession with them. He wanted to know the title of the dissertation, and I said, “No, it’s stupid.” He insisted. I kept saying no because I was pissed.
At 6pm I said, “Well, I have to go.” He said, “All right.” No argument, no offer of dinner. He wanted to walk me to my car and I said, “OK.” At my car he said, “Would you like to go out again,” and I said, “Sure,” though I am not sure, but whatever.
He’s not a bad looking guy, he’s intelligent, he’s less objectionable in my mind, at this point, than some other former suitors. However, he is a big fat goober and I’m not sure I can get over that. Here’s the problem: When a guy really likes me, like clearly likes me enough to truly pursue me, he ceases to be attractive in my eyes because I can see his weakness. I want a guy who has no weaknesses. Quandry.