#flowerfail

I was able to fill in my time with another gentleman named Ted*.  Ted also was newly separated.  (Yes, you are sensing a theme).  Ted was sweet, a gentleman, and a bit of a dork.  We would banter back and forth but I felt his banter was missing something. Oh yeah, I know:  humor.  Ted and I finally make plans to meet a few days before Valentine’s Day.  I am not one of those girls that needs to be with someone on Valentine’s Day, so I didn’t think anything of the date.  A week before we met, Ted asked me to describe my favorite flower.  My spidey senses kick into overdrive.  I don’t like this.  I play coy and don’t really answer him.  Ted pushes and I tell him he doesn’t have to get me anything.

Fast forward to Friday night when I’m walking to meet Ted.  I send him a text to grab a couple seats at the bar.  He texts back that he will meet me in the lobby.  Irritated, I ask again.  He says no.  Weird…  I walk up and there he is.  He is a handsome, tall dude who is standing next to an obnoxiously huge floral arrangement in a glass vase.  He gives me a hug and motions over to the flowers.  I am horrified.  First, I didn’t want these.  Second, practically, how will I bring these to the bar? Third, I don’t want to bring them home.  My boys do not need to see these and ask questions.  The date progresses and Ted talks about himself the whole time.  There are very few questions about my career, aspirations, or background.  I feel like I have to wedge my information into the tiny cracks he left between breaths.  Meanwhile, I see 8 people I know and have to introduce him to them.  I end the date after dinner with a one armed hug.  (Remember I have a huge glass vase in the other arm).  I dropped the arrangement off as an early valentine’s gift for a girlfriend.  She said the chocolates were delicious.

Dating is a lot of work.

by

Boy Mom, Sister, Friend, New Englander, Career-Driven, Shoe-Snob, Fast Driver, and Divorced