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December 6, 2006
The Rules of Dating: Part VIII
Alright.
I was at the Mall of New Hampshire, quite possibly in Manchester, working at a kiosk. I was 25 (roughly), pleasant and exuding Midwesterness and a general politeness that seemed to be rare enough in New England that it crept up right to the edge of irresistibleness.
I had an accent uncommon to the area which, I think, made me seem cuter in New England that I was in Ohio, and quite possibly Iowa. I was also 'new' (that is, not a known boy, you know, someone everybody knew since birth). I had not yet started growing ear hair.
One or more of these things drew Carol (not her real name) to the kiosk one day.
Carol had stopped by before. She was a student at U. Mass, Amherst, home for the holidays and helping her parents sell whatever it is they sold in the mall. She was cute, pleasant (by New England standards: a far cry from a Midwest farmer's daughter), she'd just turned 19 (or 20) and she had that New England accent that is pretty nice once you get used to the 'r's being dropped from where they belong and added in places they have no place being (A typical New England sentence is: "Could I get the rest of this hot dog wrapped up. I'm going to take it home for my dorg." )
So Carol came by to visit. She seemed a little nervous and said something similar to, "There's a, uh, ... party, um ... on Friday ... um ... down at ... uh ..."
As I said, she seemed sort of nervous, which made her additionally cute as I realized she may be asking me out. I mean, there's always the chance that she was going out and, as I'm from the Midwest and obviously skilled in animal husbandry, certainly a good candidate when it came to looking for folks to take care of her dog. But, I thought she might be asking me out -- and that would have been cool and different.
"... um ... would you like to go?"
"I'd love to," I said.
And she seemed genuinely happy.
We went to the party, had a pretty good time, and rubbed noses at the end of the evening. We enjoyed each other's company enough that we decided to go out again before she went back to school; she lived at least 30-minutes away, but under an hour. No. It had to be further than that -- I spent the night on her couch (her parents were home and upstairs.)
Anyway, the second date was even more fun. I don't recall what we did, but we did wrestle a bit that evening -- you know, as much as you can when the parents are upstairs ... and hillbilly accent or not I was still a boy, so you know they were using their super hearing powers -- and we spent the next day together. I know we went to see a movie. Oh and we talked about having me visit here at school.
This is where things took an ugly turn.
I just Googled the distance from Lowell, Mass. (where I lived) to Amherst, Mass. (where she went to school) and it comes up at 100 miles and 1 hour 51 minutes. I remember the drive being closer to 3 hours -- so it was probably over two.
Whatever ... it was a clear violation of the dating rule.
AND geez I can't imagine being in a more stressful dating situation. The mood was tense when I showed up. I can't remember what we did, but it was tense. Tense! tense! tense! (please reread that using your best Jan Brady voice).
I couldn't take it, "What's wrong," I asked as we drove back to her dorm, "This is the most tense date I've ever been on!"
(And I apologize to you for using the word tense so much.)
"It's just that you're so boring," she said.
"What?" I exclaimed. I'd been called a lot of things over the years, ass hole comes to mind. I'd been arrested. And let's not forget the Jell-O bath idea. Boring did not jibe with how I saw myself (a sometime dumbass, yes). "I've never been called boring in my life."
"Maybe not boring. It's just that your all there. You're all black and white. You don't play games. There's no mystery."
I remember thinking, you want some mystery, how about I put you out of the car here and you see if you can find your way back home. Instead I used my internal female-to-male dictionary and decided she meant 'normal.'
After that the tenseness broke. As she was getting out of the car I looked over and said, "I'm not calling you tomorrow." We both laughed.
There was no nose rubbing.
I drove off.
And I hated myself so much for the next 1 hour and 51 minutes that it seemed closer to 180 minutes. Not because the evening went badly, but because I broke one of the rules AND I'D BEEN RIGHT! It had been a good rule!
Posted by delmer at December 6, 2006 4:45 PM
Comments
You may not have been "threatening" enough. You fit too well into her comfort zone. Again, the perfect friend but not the Super Stud a 19 year old might want. For some reason it seemed girls back then wanted a dangerous jerk that never smiled and was too cool to talk much. You talked alot. Looking back, I bet she wishes she could remember your name and would find that nice but boring guy she met to now bear her children. Nerds will rule the Earth someday. Be vigilant my boring friend. 17 virgins await you in heaven.
Posted by: Darrell at December 6, 2006 9:17 PM
I have broken that rule with every single guy I have dated (I think - trying to remember dates at 7am here)....my argument is that if a guy lives far enough away from me he can't show up unexpectedly or stalk me....well, that or I'm just really not very good at this "rules" thing ;)
PS You're a lot of things Delmer, but boring isn't one of them!
Posted by: Pen at December 7, 2006 2:14 AM
Darrell: After a dozen or so virgins ... don't you think you'll be ready for a pro? I think Dennis Miller said that (or something similar).
Pen: That might be a good rule for women: Never date anyone that lives closer than an hour away. I'd never considered the stalking or unexpected-visit thing.
Posted by: delmer at December 7, 2006 7:43 AM