I met Todd online during my OKCupid phase. I should have followed my instincts when his profile talked about enjoying swinging an axe to chop wood. It’s a slippery slope from chopping wood to being fed into a woodchipper. (I grew up in Connecticut, and this really happened to a woman here. That shit sticks with you.) I called him out on the serial killer vibe, and he legitimately seemed clueless about it. He was 6’4”, so I made an exception for him. My weakness in life is freakishly tall men.
At least I had the momentarily jolt of common sense and agreed to meet him at Starbucks. He did not drink alcohol, so once again I found myself mystified how I could be attracted to such a person. I don’t drink coffee, or really any hot liquid, so why did I have to compromise? I am much more entertaining with alcohol. Otherwise I just give off a bored/bitchy/seethingly hostile vibe. Still, given the axe comment, I decided to opt for safety.
It is safe to say that this was the strangest first date I’d ever had. For starters, he refused to drink his coffee inside because there were two (I counted) people inside drinking their overpriced beverages like normal people. No, he insisted that we sit outside, even though it was 47 degrees in March. Ok, I played along, because at least the temperature cooled off my hot chocolate to a lukewarm temperature I could enjoy. And he was tall. After about twenty minutes of him talking while my teeth chattered, I wondered how long society would require me to freeze before suggesting he come home with me.
Finally he asked if I want to go for a ride. (Disclaimer:I do not recommend getting in a car with a total stranger with a possible axe fetish, nor bringing strangers home with you. These rules do not apply to me, however, due to my innate and freakishly accurate serial killer Spidey senses.) He decided he wanted to go visit a friend in town that he hadn’t talked to in a while. This seemed like an unusual choice for a first date, but c’est la vie. Because he was tall.
As we drove further and further into the woods, Todd disclosed that this particular friend was gay and was in love with him. Odd choice for a first impression. And strangely déjà vu for my relationships, especially since he gave off a nerdy gay vibe.
We pulled up a dark winding drive, and the friend is outside. For a split second I wondered if there was a woodchipper nearby. The friend was clearly flustered at the surprise visit, and even more surprised by my presence. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, we went to leave. The friend grabbed my arm and said, “Do you realize this man is a Greek god?” (Clearly not Bacchus.) I didn’t know whether to laugh or run, but I was in the middle of God knows where and afraid of being killed by a coyote.
The date ended well, and he invited himself over two days later. It didn’t take long for that to end up in the bedroom, because, well . . . why the hell not. Rules weren’t working for me. He came back the next night and stayed overnight, so that was a good sign I thought. Except for silence the next week. Until a 10:45 booty text on Friday night. I put him off a day, and then invited him over to watch a movie on Saturday.
I was in the middle of bringing laundry upstairs when I saw him at the door. I let him in and told him I’d be a second as I finished up my laundry. The dogs were barking, but just excited to see him. I went back downstairs, only to come up to an empty room. I found Todd outside pacing in front of my house. I went outside and he said my dogs were piercing his eardrums.
“Ok, sorry, but if you come in she’ll stop now that I’m here.”
“I don’t think so. It’s not your fault you have dogs. Why don’t you grab the movie and come up to my place?
“I guess so,” I stammered. I went back inside and left him pacing.
I mulled it over. Basically he drove half an hour to come here, was right outside, and wouldn’t make the effort to at least see if my dog would calm down. Are you kidding me? So I’d go to his place for a booty call, then have to rush home to let my dogs out. Clearly this was not going to work. And on top of it, this guy had a phobia of Starbucks and strange friends. He in the glass house should not have been judging my dogs.
So this is my lesson: Don’t ever compromise for a man. Unconditional love is hard to come by in life, and I could never date a dog hater. I had to remind myself of that no matter how tall he was. And I sure as hell was not going to compromise for a closeted gay Terminix man. Even if they are termites, that’s just inviting bad Karma.