My First Date in 20 Years

Many dating stories never made it to my book. One worth telling is the first date I’d had in twenty years. I’d always heard that I could meet “the one” anywhere, so when I met Jim at the public library, I wasn’t too surprised. I was working on a project and he was at a nearby table tutoring a student in math. Having a BS degree in math, this caught my attention. I caught Jim’s eye, too, because I spotted him looking at me several times. Eventually his student left, and he approached me and started a conversation. After a few minutes, we agreed to meet at the diner across the street for an iced tea. When we had been chatting for about an hour, I agreed to go out with him. He seemed a nice enough guy, and I was eager to start dating again.

Jim had a disability and walked with a pretty severe limp. This somehow made me feel safe, so I agreed to have him pick me up at my home. (I didn’t do this again. Although I was perfectly safe, I realized afterward this was not a good idea with someone I barely knew.) Jim called me the day of our date to find out what kind of music I liked, so he could have it in the car. Although we confirmed the time, he was over a half hour late when he called me again. He was lost (we lived about two miles from each other), having read “avenue” instead of “street” in my address. He didn’t call earlier because he didn’t own a cell phone, being “just a poor teacher,” so he had to go home to call me. This was 2007 and every adult I knew had a cell phone. When he finally arrived, the front of his shirt was totally stained. It was summer, so I knew he hadn’t come directly from work. How odd that he would fuss about the music in his car, but didn’t get my address straight or come in clean clothes. The date went downhill from here, including a number of irritating discoveries, such as his not liking any vegetables except corn. I knew this would be our first and last date.

In hindsight, I recognized that I’d overlooked several things, right from the start. His behavior said “desperate,” he was oblivious to my reactions to him, and he had a “poor me” approach to life, which I’ll tell you about next time. Thankfully, I learned from this experience and can laugh about it now.