Oh Loverboy

So again, it's been a while.  I know, I said it was going to be the last time I had a long break in my blogging life, but some big developments have been happening since my last post, and I can't wait to update you all about it—but not yet!  Today, I have one bad-dating story that has been on the writing block for a while.  His name is Mr. Loverboy—and you will soon see why.

Just when I thought Mr. Black Sneakers had been the nail in the online-dating coffin, I received another interesting profile from Mr. Loverboy—so why not?  I might as well give it one final try.  Can't be that bad, right?

Ha.  Whoever said I was intelligent enough to be a teacher obviously did not consider my decision-making skills when it comes to romance.  Good thing I teach English and not sex ed.

The new profile is Mr. Loverboy's, and we go through the usual eHarmony requirements—stupid questions like, "What are your three best traits?" and "What is the most adventuresome thing you have ever done?" and "What would you be doing on a typical night at home?"  I always cringe and end communication when the potential date sends me a really personal one like, "If I had a bad day, what would you do to make me feel better?"  Honestly, dude, I'm quite sure the man's dream is to hear about foot rubs and sexual favors, but let me knock you on the head with reality, bubba—no respectable girl is going to say that to a complete stranger, even if you have hit the jackpot and found a girl who is actually thinking it.

Qualities about Mr. Loverboy that I learned from online communication were few but interesting:

1. He's from South Carolina (southern gentlemen, maybe?).
2. He's in med school (wahoo!) for podiatry (eh...good enough).
3. He is 36 years old and never married (I'm gonna go with 'focused on his career'...).
4. He has a sense of humor (joking around through online means is always difficult, and he accomplished it).
5. He's well travelled—been to Ireland and very proud of his Irish heritage.
6. He is very close to his brother (loves family, check), exercises regularly (not fat, check), and has several close friends in the area (not socially inept, check).

Well, so far looking good...or so I thought.  After talking via text message and the phone, I uncover some red flags.

First, I get the following message from him:  Do you have a problem with guys with tattoos?

Okay, now don't get me wrong, I have no problem with a guy who puts some design on his arm or a symbol on his shoulder, but is this guy asking because he has his ex-girlfriend's name across his forehead?  A naked woman across his back?  Ink covering more than 50% of his body?  I start to feel a bit nervous.

Next, I get this:  I have a really good feeling about this!  You are so beautiful and so nice!

Sweet...but you haven't met me yet.  Maybe I'm pessimistic when it comes to relationships after my divorce, but I still feel like seeing each other in person is not entirely overrated.

Mr. Loverboy is giving me a bad feeling with his loverboy tendencies.  His text messages are getting pretty flirtatious—for example, when asked what I was doing, and I responded "watching a movie at home," he replied: What are u watchin?  I could hold you close if I was watching with u :)

Should I be weirded out?  Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, but something kept me optimistic.  Maybe he is really just a NICE guy.  Romantic, even.  Would that be so strange?  There are nice, romantic, loving men out there...right?

Yikes.  My optimism really does sound like idiocy when you see it written on paper.

Date 1:  He picks me up and takes me to dinner.  He asks me out.  He makes the plans.  He picks the restaurant.  Now, maybe I'm too nice, but even despite these circumstances, I do the mock-reach to my purse and make a half-hearted offer to split the bill when it comes.  His response?

"Yeah sure!  That'd be great!"

On the first date?!?  I don't even get the first date paid meal?!?  Wow, this date must have been bad!  Inside, I'm thinking, he must not be planning on seeing me again.

Wrong.  He ninja-kisses me when we get into the car and says he would love to see me again.  I'm still being my annoyingly optimistic self, so I hesitantly agree to give it another chance, but all considering?

Strike 1.

Date 2:  Mr. Loverboy asks me out again, and this time, there is no way I'm paying.  I'm not even going to offer—so there!  Again, he picks the restaurant, and it's expensive.  Oh, well, I tell myself.  I'm not going to feel bad, I'm not going to give in...  As he noticeably wrestles over whether we should order a bottle of wine with his very loud murmurs ("...wow, $80 for wine?  Maybe we should just drink when we get back to my house..."), I get irritated and excuse myself to the bathroom to compose myself.

Okay, he's a med student...maybe he's just poor with student loans!  Stop being judgmental!  I talk myself down and head back to the table, praying that he decided on that bottle of wine because I'm definitely feeling like I need a good, strong drink....

However, while this part of the date is going badly, he is clearly trying to impress me with his little smiles across the table.  It's kind of...sweet.  I'm starting to feel a bit better—but then we get back to his place.

"Want to see my tattoo?"

Oh yeah, the tattoo.  Totally forgot about that one.  I think I manage to give a nervous nod as he takes off his shirt to reveal...

HOLY GEEZ!  There are no words.  Because I'm not looking at a tattoo...I'm looking at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  Literally.

I mean it—this was Mr. Loverboy's back, complete with naked people, and cherub angels, and clouds, and...stuff.  I am trying to keep a poker face, free of all expression.  So. Really. Trying.  All the while, Mr. Loverboy is standing there giving me proud glances over his shoulder, clearly believing my silence means that he has utterly impressed me beyond speech.
Thankfully, it is the end of the date, and I march out of there thinking that's it.  No more crazy dates.  Then Rowdy does a very un-Rowdy thing to do—she sides with Mr. Loverboy:

"Tattoos are a very personal thing.  You said that he told you he got it after his parents died...you can't judge him based on that!  It is meaningful to him, and you will find that with most people who decide to get a tattoo of that magnitude."

Well, now of course, I'm an awful person.  Judgmental.  Heartless.  Cruel.  So I did what each one of you expected me to do all along—when he called to ask me out for a third time, I said yes.  In my head, though?

Strike 2.

Date 3:  Mr. Loverboy asks me over to watch a movie = no money issues.  Great.  I love movies.  However, this movie came with a special preview attraction:

"I know that your birthday is a few days away, so I got you something that I would like you to have..."

"Oh, no!"  I quickly interrupt, "Really, you didn't have to get me anything...I mean, it's only the third date...really."

He cuts me off just as suddenly.  "No, I want you to have it.  It means a lot to me, and you mean a lot to me.  I know it has only been a short time, but I just have this really good feeling about you and me...well, close your eyes.  I want to surprise you."  

I make a few more good arguments, but I am unable to fight him off, so I finally give in and close my eyes.  Mr. Loverboy puts something tiny and metal in my hands.





"This necklace was a very special purchase that I made when I went to Ireland a few years ago.  Inside the necklace is a real four-leaf clover.  I saw it in a store, and I knew that I had to buy it and give it to someone special when the right person came along someday.  And I want you to have it..."









SIRENS!!!!!!  CLANGING BELLS!!!!!  RED FLAGS!!!!!  This time it is not my imagination, I am not being judgmental, and I am clearly being too nice!!!  It's like a promise NECKLACE!

You don't even want to know the excuses I had to make to get myself out of THIS one.  It is way too embarrassing.

Strike 3.  I was out.  And I meant it, too...no more eHarmony, no more uncomfortable dinners, no more failed attempts to find love—no more dating.

Or so I thought.

Lesson #15 in Post-Divorce Dating:  How do you call your loverboy?  Apparently, you don't; the loverboys come at you whether you like it or not.  So instead of calling your loverboy to see if he answers, save yourself from awkwardly rejecting necklaces (and implied marriage proposals), and avoid loverboy-types at all costs.  But the song was correct about one thing—love is definitely strange.

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée