Too. Many. Exes.

So this is a story about match.com date #3: John*. So many lessons learned here, I don't even know where to begin. 

It starts on Valentine's day. I was out with one of my good friends. We were at our favorite bar, ignoring the fact that we are single- celebrating the fact that we don't need men! (So there.)  While we were sitting there, I checked my email on my phone, and had a message from a new guy on match: John*. And... miracle of miracles, he actually seemed semi-normal! Can you believe it? All words were spelled correctly, he didn't say "ain't" at all, and he used periods, commas, etc. at the proper time. (If you've read my other posts, you know that this is a huge improvement from recent matches.) To top it all off, he is a police officer (I'll admit- I have a thing for men in uniforms) and he doesn't live too far away. Things were looking up! His profile mentioned that he is divorced and has a child, but that's ok. Although the level of baby-mama-drama definitely needed to be assessed, that's certainly not a deal-breaker for me. (I mean- considering I have the greatest stepmother in the world because she was willing to date a guy who had kids- I'll certainly give someone who is divorced with a child a chance.) So, we talked a bit over the next couple of days, and things seemed ok. We had some things in common, and I was happy about the way things were going. 

Now, call me old-fashioned, but while I totally believe in and demand gender equality, it sure would be nice for a man to straight up ask a woman out on a date. Saying in a text message "well, if you ever want to hang out, let me know" does not constitute you asking me out. Try again. His "try again"? "Well, if you want to go out to dinner or something, let me know." Finally, I said "Is this you asking me out?"  and he said, "yes, if you want to." 

Wow. Try not to bowl me over with your enthusiasm. 

Since he didn't seem so excited about the date, I decided that he should come to me. I told him that if he was free, he could meet me at my favorite bar. (Since this is the second time I've mentioned it- huge shout out to Jack Brown's. Y'all rock.) After NUMEROUS (like, at least 30) text messages about where Jack Brown's is located and where he could park, (seriously- one of the texts said "how many stop lights are there? My truck doesn't like lights."  uh... what?) the date was set. (Or at least I hoped it was. I wasn't sure if he was going to be able to find a place to park.)

So, we're up to Thursday night. Let me start this section by telling you what my facebook status was for the night.

"Tonight has potential. The potential to be really good, or a really good blog post."

You can see how that went for me.

Since Jack Brown's is kind of small, and Thursday nights can be busy, I got there early. (Another huge shout out. This time to The Kristi- best wing-woman/seat-filler ever! Thanks for hanging with me- you rock!) Since I know the bartenders, I told them both about the date that was about to happen. Everyone was in on it and looking out for me. (See why I love it there so much?) 

So, there's a little piece of information that I knew beforehand but left out up until this point. I tried really hard not to discriminate, but it turns out I just can't get around it.

His height.

John* is 5' 6". Nothing wrong with that at all. (Although I was sort of hoping that it was a typo...) but, I'm 5' 8". Something about dating a guy 2" shorter than me just didn't work. I tried though, I promise. Blame it on coming from a family of tall people. It's just what I'm comfortable with. Sorry 'bout it. 

Ok, moving on.

I wasn't worried about having things to talk about, because I have enough experience with police departments, etc. (Thank you 2002 Lynchburg Junior Police Academy.  Go ahead. Laugh. But it's true. I have pictures to prove it.) We talked for a while about funny police stories, but that topic quickly got awkward when he said, and I quote, "I get that people don't think that men should hit women. But sometimes it's necessary." There's really not much to say about this. He went on to explain that he was actually referring to being on the job and having to, at times, use force with females. I get it. But next time, John*, you might want to stay away from the topic of hitting women on a first date. 

As the conversation continued, I'm not sure whether it got better or worse. 

He talked about himself. The whole time. 

And alllllll of his past relationships. In detail.

The details aren't really that important. I'll just say that he mentioned his ex-wife, his ex-fiancée, his baby mama, and the girl that he moved to Virginia for who then dumped him. 

That's right. all different people. Maybe this is mean of me, but I was ok with it when I thought the child was a product of the marriage. But that's a lot of exes to contend with. Too many. Also, (and I didn't put this together until later) he moved to Virginia for a girl who then dumped him.

He has only lived in Virginia for about 3 months. Too soon? I think yes.

And so, after telling me all about the "only time he has been drunk" (he and his best friend drank 13 beers and passed out- only to be awakened by a phone call from the best friend's wife saying SHE WAS IN LABOR,) I decided to ask about his kid. Not much to share there- except that the mother is "psycho" and that the kid is a 3 year old son named... (well of course I'm not going to tell you the real name) Smith & Wesson*. 

Why did I choose this nickname, you ask? No, not because of my love for weapons. I chose that name because the REAL name is, in fact, a type of gun. 

Poor child. Poor poor child.

At this point, I went with the whole "it's getting late" excuse. We got the check (he paid- score for him) and got ready to leave. Now, in ALL the parking lots in ALL of downtown Harrisonburg (and believe me- we talked about every single one in detail) somehow, he managed to park RIGHT next to my car in one of the little lots that I had not mentioned to him.

Call me paranoid, but I was creeped out. After the awkward hug followed by me moving quickly to my car, I said goodnight. 

And IMMEDIATELY got a text from him. "Sorry I'm a dork. Hope you had fun."

Slow your roll, homedude. I don't think this is gonna work. 

So here we are again, back at square one. Thanks for reading my blog, friends. It makes the crazy dates a little more enjoyable. At least I can spend the time thinking about what I'm going to write. :)