"Post Mortem Analysis"

Sometimes I think that dating is not only an excersise in futility, but also the lowest depth of self torture. Each time we date someone new, we think it could be different. It usually is different, but I mean "different" in the same way that we sometimes call the kids on the short bus "special". This is the follow up to the post I wrote last week about my impending date with "Andy". http://LEGENDmag.net/thelegendonline/2008/07/03/adventures-in-craigslistingadventures-in-craigslisting/ For those of you too lazy to go back and read it, here's the short story. I responded to an ad in the M4W section of Craigslist. (For those of you who have yet to join the sad adventures of online dating, that stands for Men For Women). The guy who posted this ad, "Andy", as he will be known, was good looking in his pictures, well spoken and funny. Not a bad start. We exchanged some emails and made a date for drinks last Thursday night. This is the story of what happened next. Andy arrived on time to pick me up. He had mentioned, when offering to pick me up the night before, that his car was a "crap-box". It's always important to set your date's expectations at a realistic level, right? The car was in fact, a crap box. Not that I care, really. I drove a Toyota Camry Station Wagon for ten years. It was always filthy. But I digress. After greeting me with a hearty handshake (to which I responded, "Oh. Very formal, aren't you?") and we were off. Andy had already opened the car door for me when I came outside, which I thought was a nice gesture, a sign of class and respect perhaps. I came to find out later that the handle was broken in a way that did not allow for me to open the door myself. The car itself reeked of stale cigarettes and there were two boxes of "Liggit" cigarettes in the center console. I asked him about the brand, as it wasn't one I was familiar with. He told me that he discovered them in Louisiana and that now he buys them online from Indian casinos in New York. They were like three bucks a pack and they were strong. He had mentioned that he smoked "sometimes", but the truth was becoming much clearer. He is a heavy smoker who smokes the strongest cigarettes I've ever tried. Strike one: Implying that his habit was social or casual instead of owning his addiction outright. But, the jury was still out, after all, we'd only just met. Now, I had only been in the car for about three minutes, when Andy discovered that he should have turned a block earlier, to which he responds "Fuck!" and very aggressively makes a u-turn. Our drive through hell has just begun. Here's something you can't spot from a picture online...Road Rage. Or, as Andy liked to refer to it, "Road Fury". He said, "I think 'rage' should be reserved for things like rescuing your princess." I apologize to you that I did not ask him to elaborate on what that actually meant. I was too busy praying that he didn't hit someone or get us shot. He was a menace, honking his horn and swearing (though he did say "Fudge!", but only once). We arrived at the wine bar he had specially selected for our date. It was a really adorable little place, down an alley and in the basement of what seemed to a hotel. That actually makes it sound a little scary. You'll have to take my word for it. It's called The Hidden Vine, and I think it's great. The point is, Andy had chosen well. We find a little nook in the back and settle in for the "getting to know you" portion of the evening. We ordered some wine and start talking. He's a very smart, very attentive and engaging guy. The conversation flowed really nicely, there weren't any awkward moments and he made me laugh quite a bit. His Road Fury started to seem like not such a big deal, and even when he excused himself to go outside and smoke, I was willing to overlook it. Then the following things happened: -I noticed that Andy was missing a tooth. The one next to his canine. It was pretty off-putting, I have to admit. I've dated guys with no teeth before. It's not something I'd like to revisit. But that's a story for another time. -Andy tried to stuff a small footstool down the front of his shirt. I don't remember why, but it was probably for laughs. It just wasn't very funny. It was more disturbing than funny. -Andy got really loud. The bar was very small and very civilized and quaint. Andy continued to swear, only it was now so that everyone could hear. "You can't smoke in a bar in California, but you can FUCKING SWEAR!" -Andy kept standing up for no reason. He said it was because he was "kinetic". I don't think he knew what that meant. It was very distracting and almost seemed complusive. No matter how smoothly a conversation flows or how hard someone makes you laugh, there are some oddities that cannot be overlooked. Road Fury, missing teeth, loud swearing in public, attempted theft, and an OCD standing up disorder are just some of those things that could be, what my mother likes to call, "Red Flags". Eventually I drained my glass and Andy took me home and hugged me goodbye. He did not attempt to kiss me, for which I was very grateful, because there was no way that was going to happen. Two days later, I received an email from Andy, which was titled "Post Mortem Analysis". I thought for a moment that he may have realized how he killed out date and was going to apologize. However, it would appear that Andy thinks that he "killed it!!" and that I might like to go out with him again. He's asked me out to a play in the Misison and I hate to say it, but I will not be taking him up on his offer. The final outcome of this post mortem analysis is: It was dead in the water before it ever started.

About the Author

Amber Milner is an independent lifestyle advocate!