“So… I knew he wasn’t the one when all he kept doing was talking badly about himself,” my sister Robyn said. “Out of nowhere he started telling me things like, ‘I have uncontrollable gas;’ ‘You should see my hair when it grows out. I’m almost completely bald;’ ‘I have a tiny penis.’”
“I wanted so badly to say, ‘Wait! You had me at ‘tiny penis,’” Robyn recounted.
I laughed as I listened to her bemoan her stream of bad dates.
“Are there any single guys who: A) Are not living with their mother? B) Have had at least one serious relationship? C) Are gainfully employed? D) Are not socially inept?” she vented. “The last guy was socially retarded, and I mean that in the nicest way. He laughed at things that weren’t funny. He bought me an engagement ring on a necklace after only a month of dating. I was able to brush the red flags out of the way for so long. The final straw was when his mother grilled me on the health of my reproductive system.”
I inquired as to how she was meeting these guys and she said online.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I stressed. “The guys that I’ve dated long-term, I’ve always met while out in public places. That way you get a first-hand sense of their red flags.”
Then again, I’ve had some traumatic experiences in that arena as well.
Creeps
As soon as I saw him walking towards me in the bar an intuitive alarm sounded. Before I could draw back, he was already telling me his name. Too late. While I was desperately trying to snuff the conversation, I envisioned myself trying to make a run for it. Knowing my luck, I’d trip and fall over my Robert Wayne pointy-toed boots like in some bad horror movie.
Snapped back into reality, Jai was still talking. The thing is, Jai, along with most creeps, don’t care if you’re uncomfortable. They just want your attention and see you only as a recreational project. He kept asking personal questions that not-so subtly tapered into, “Is there somewhere we can screw?”
To shake this leech without resorting to an equal amount of rudeness, I was polite but I continued to move along the conversation. I was sure not to answer his questions with my own for that would’ve shown an interest. I simply began being passively agreeable. Eventually, he decided that I wasn’t worth the trouble and went off to bother someone else.
Stalkers
I was at an airport bookstore in between flight transfers and decided to pick up yet another dating how-to book. I was strolling down the aisle when I noticed someone out of the corner of my eye. I glanced over to see him giving me the once-over. I get that on some level, our gaydar is always working. And when someone trips it, especially someplace where we’re the minority, it’s exciting and we unconsciously cruise them. First off, he wasn’t my type. Second, I knew he wasn’t looking for a soul mate and hooking up in an airport bathroom has never been my style, so I went back to browsing titles.
Unfortunately, he didn’t take the hint. Every aisle I walked down, he would pop up at the other end, never saying anything; just blatantly giving me the come-hither look. Does he really think I’m just going to go up to him and say, ‘Excuse me. I’ve noticed that you’ve been following me. I really like the persistent, shy type. Let’s do it’?
After a few more minutes of feeling my ass burn from his gaze, I was finally able to lose him in the Women’s Studies section. I made a dash for the cashier, paid for my book and darted for the exit. Granted, even though I didn’t feel any real danger, there is always that chance when you have a stalker. Mostly, it was just incredibly unnerving.
What’s That Smell?
Around that same time, a friend of mine decided to set me up with a friend of his. Even though my friend described Chris as my “type” and even showed me pictures to back it up, I played it smart. We had multiple online and phone chats over the course of a few weeks. He was intelligent, attractive, charming and worked for an AIDS research laboratory. He seemed great!
We finally decided to meet up for a drink. I walked up to the table with a confident smile. However, it quickly drooped when I got a whiff of him. I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly the scent was. Body odor? Bad breath? Did he forget to wipe?
Since I was already there, I thought, oh well, at least I’ll have a cocktail and possibly an interesting conversation. We ordered a few and talked about work, music, politics, and traveling. Yes, he smelled but at least he was interesting. Afterwards, we went for a walk. As much as I liked him, I couldn’t get past the smell. I found myself playing ‘Name That Smell’ while he talked. Old Spice? Sweat?
Out of nowhere, he leaned in and started kissing me. Damn. He’s a good kisser, too. I just couldn’t get past the smell and I jerked my head back almost gagging. He asked me what was wrong. I didn’t know how to kindly say, “you reek of rotten milk,” so I told him I didn’t expect him to kiss me. We walked some more and then he began holding my hand. I looked down at my hand in his and wondered if the smell would transfer.
As we approached the parking lot, he kissed me again. Gosh, what is that smell? That’s it! Old water. Holding my breath, I retracted and told him that I really needed to get home since it was getting late.
Before I could get into my car and make a clean getaway, he asked me if I wanted to go to the beach with him tomorrow. I apologized and told him that I had plans already. He kissed me again. This time I turned my cheek so he ended up kissing my face a few times. I felt so gross. I sped home, not wanting to swallow and then washed my mouth out with Listerine.
After a few flaccid phone calls, I figured he would take the hint and move on. But subtlety didn’t seem to be working. So, I decided to whip out an oldie but a goodie and said that my ex- boyfriend had called and that we were going to give it another chance. He seemed to understand and I’m sure he felt a little rejected but at least it left him with some dignity.
There are many ways to handle rejecting someone and every situation is different. I’m not saying mine were the best but they worked for me at the time.
My sister Robyn, on the other hand, decided to take the brutally honest route. When she could no longer take her self-depreciating date, she stopped him.
“Look,” she said. “I can deal with the fact that you may be balding or that you may have uncontrollable gas. I can even deal with you having a tiny penis. What I can’t deal with is the fact that you have THE WORST self-esteem of anyone I’ve ever met.”
We’ve all been there. Either we meet someone that we’re not interested in and he asks for our number or we go out with someone, have a horrible time and he asks if he can see us again. Whichever way it transpires, we’re faced with the challenge of having to reject someone, a challenge that is never easy.
Erik Fact: So maybe I haven’t found “The One” yet but I have found plenty of “Ones” – all of whom have helped to make me become a wiser, more honest, more soulful, more communicative partner for the next relationship – as well as better in bed, which doesn’t hurt either.
