There’s nothing better than still being able to land a date with a 21-year-old. I’ll call her College Girl, since she was on the verge of starting another semester. I wasn’t really keen on her, but I figured I’d take the plunge and ask her out. Who knows? We might really hit it off in person.
But alas! We did not hit it off. We met at a duck pond near her house to feed the resident web-footed waterfowl. Ever prepared, I brought five pounds of cracked corn. I stood at the water’s edge spreading the food here and there with grand sweeping gestures, giggling at their silly antics as they waddled to and fro. Meanwhile, College Girl sat cradling her phone in her hands so she could keep watch on the time. I did my best to engage her in conversation, but it was clear she wasn’t feeling it. It didn’t help that I had to keep volunteering information because she hardly asked anything about myself in return. Finally I told her there was a pizza place across the street, and did she want to come with me. Basically I gave her an out, and she took it. We hugged, I thanked her for coming out, nice to meet you and have fun at school, yadda yadda yadda.
Another date in the can.
That was Thursday. On Saturday, I was meeting the girl I was really interested in. The Runner, because she was big on marathons and such. Our destination was the ecology park. We agreed to meet at 1, but when 12:30 rolled around I realized I was going to be a few minutes late. I called to tell her, and her phone rang once and went straight to voicemail. Huh. Okay. So I left a message. I didn’t hear back, but I assumed she got it. I arrived at the park a few minutes late, just like I said I would. We hadn’t discussed exactly where we’d meet, but merely 12 hours before we were joking about what we would wear. She said she would wear something really bright so I would easily see her, and I said I would wear my shirt emblazoned with birds.
I parked myself on a bench near the entrance and called her again, this time to tell her I was there and to inquire as to her whereabouts. Once again – one ring, straight to voicemail. Hmm. Weird. I left her another message, and then I waited. No response. 1:15… 1:20… 1:25… at 1:30 I called her a last time to ask whether she was there or on her way or what. You guessed it – one ring, straight to voicemail. Almost as if she were pressing the ‘ignore’ button on her phone whenever I called. It was clear I was being stood up yet again. Fuck it – I decided to go ahead and enjoy the park by myself, but I stared unseeing at the animals as I was boiling with anger.
When I got home I logged onto OKC with the intention of sending her a message giving her a piece of my mind, but I was further pissed off to discover she had deleted her profile, when it had still been up a mere three hours earlier. So I was reduced to sending her a strongly-worded text telling her that if she had any consideration she could have at least called to cancel instead of standing me up, especially after I took the afternoon off from work and made time to see her. Still no response. I suppose “The Runner” was an apt nickname for her, because that’s exactly what she ended up doing.
So last week was pretty aggravating to say the least, but things have taken a definite upswing since then. You’ll have to wait until my next post to read all about it. Or… my next series of posts, shall we say…
First dates: 12
Second dates: 1
Stood up: 2
Sexual experiences: 0.5