An Apple a Day

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a beautiful young princess who dreamed of one day finding true love.  She believed that falling in love was something truly special, something that would make complete sense when she was finally lucky enough to have it happen to her.

As this young princess grew older, she met a handsome prince.  The prince was not like any other man she had encountered before—in fact, upon their very first introduction, the princess was struck with a fluttery feeling deep in her heart that told her this prince was something special.  And as the princess got to know him, she realized that the prince possessed every quality she had ever hoped for in her "true love."

The prince and the princess fell in love instantly and lived happily, ever after...

 


PFFFFFFTTTTT!!!!










Okay, I'm just kidding, don't worry—not another depressing blog post, I promise!  But let's be honest—there are just certain things you were absolutely never told about fairy tales as a child.

To start, Prince Charming is a Disney character.  This man does not exist in the real world.

Secondly, even this fictional romantic prince has flaws—like, he is ready to marry a girl simply because she looks hot in a ball gown and has the propensity for dashing off mysteriously while leaving shoes and crap around for someone else to pick up after her.  Leading us with no other conclusion but:

There is absolutely—positively, 100% scientifically-proven, without-a-doubt-nonexistent, impossibly—no perfect man.

And, yes, so glad that you asked—this does include Dr. Perfect.


When I met Dr. Perfect for the first time, I was amazed at his apparent flawlessness.  He had not only good looks, but an interesting and fun personality, similar interests, a sense of humor, and topped it all off with the fact that he was single.  If you remember back to my first post about him, Rowdy and Zamboni were also quite impressed—I believe Rowdy's text to me during the course of that night went something like this:

Rowdy:     Omg I want u to have cute little blond doctor babies... pls date him, I am 2 in love with him for you not to date him!

But then of course, one has to wonder... Why is this man single?

Could it be that he is simply between relationships at the moment?  Maybe he made the decision to hold out for that one right woman to come along?  Did he suffer some horrible heartbreak and now approaches dating with caution?  These would all be acceptable reasons for Dr. Perfect's single-dom.

However, there are also the other questions that seemingly-perfect-guy-single-dom brings forth:  for instance, does he have some severe social disorder?  Does he secretly enjoy playing with plastic Star Wars action figures in his spare time?  Is he the leader of a polygamous cult that requires all members to remain unattached until age 30?  Is he suffering from some incurable disease that causes giant puss-filled ulcers to cover his fantastically hairy back?

(All very valid, reasonable questions, of course.)

My first date with Dr. Perfect was simple.  He called, requested my company at dinner, offered a mutually-agreeable date for said dinner, met me at the restaurant, paid the bill, walked me to my car—and he brought me flowers.  Flowers!  On a first date!  (I told you this guy seemed too good to be true...who does that?!?)  Absolutely no drama, no weirdness, no issue.  Perfect pedestal still standing, and Dr. Perfect standing strong atop it.

But the second date with Dr. Perfect?  Let's just say, it never happened—but not for lack of trying.

Date Attempt #1:  Sunday

Dr. Perfect:     So I'd love to get together again this week...

DD:     I would love that too!  I am only free on Wednesday or Thursday...do either of those work for you?

Dr. Perfect:     I am free all week, so just let me know what works for you.

DD:     Well, either of those two days are good for me...I have plans the rest of the week, but I can do dinner or drinks or something either Wednesday or Thursday—whichever.

Dr. Perfect:     Okay, well, just let me know when you are free, and we'll do something then.

I think there was a small part inside me that started sounding the alarm bells at this point.  I partially felt as though I was on a phone conversation where I could hear everything the other person was saying, but they couldn't hear me.  Didn't I tell you when I was free???

Date Attempt #2:  Tuesday

Dr. Perfect:     Hi, you have reached Dr. Perfect.  I am out being perfect somewhere and cannot take your call at this time.  Leave a message, and I will get back to you as soon as I can.  BEEP!

DD:     Hey, it's DD.  I know we had talked about getting together tomorrow night or Thursday, so I thought I'd call to see if one of those days still worked for you.  Send me a text or something tomorrow during the day and let me know if you want to make plans.

No contact from Dr. Perfect that night or Wednesday.  Well, I thought, he must have just decided he's not interested.  No big deal; it happens.  No one needs to mail me the book He's Just Not That Into You.  I get it:  if a guy wants to call me, he will move mountains to find a way.  Hence, Dr. Perfect threw me a curveball when he texted around 5 p.m. on Thursday evening like nothing had happened.

Date Attempt #3:  Thursday

Dr. Perfect:     Hey there!  R u still free 2nite?  Just got off work & was thinking we should get together for dinner.

DD:     Hey, sorry - I actually hadn't heard from u about it, so I went ahead & made plans with a friend.



I really had made plans, too.  Faith had texted me earlier that day about dinner, so I went ahead and said yes.  I certainly didn't know I'd hear back from Dr. Perfect at the eleventh hour expecting me to be free.  Still, noting the absolute lack of perfect men in the world, I decided to cut him some slack.  Again, we made frustratingly vague plans to hang out that weekend.  But of course, that weekend I spent lying in bed feeling deathly ill and unable to date anyone ... not that I heard from him until late afternoon on Sunday.

Date Attempt #4:  Sunday

Dr. Perfect:     On my way home from the football game—want 2 see a movie 2nite?

DD:     Ugh, I can't.  been sick in bed all wkend.  But I really would love to hang out.  Can we get together this wk?  When r u free?

Dr. Perfect:     Sure, just let me know.  I don't have any plans.

DD:     Great, how bout Thurs. nite?

Dr. Perfect:     Sure, just let me know, we'll do something this wk.

AAAHHHHHH!!!  Why was it so difficult to make definite plans with this guy?  Commitment issues?  Not a planner?  I couldn't figure it out.  When I was out with my girls on Friday night, I filled them in on Dr. Perfect's emerging flaw.  That was when Chanel and Rowdy intervened and hijacked my cell phone for the night, so the text messages between "me" and Dr. Perfect looked something like this:

DD:     Look it's not that hard - pick a date, time, and place.  Then we have a plan.  U can't call me an hour b4 u want 2 hang out.  That doesn't work 4 me.

Dr. Perfect:     A little sassy tonight, aren't we?

DD:     Just telling u how it is.  So u know.

Dr. Perfect:     Glad I know ;-)

Rowdy and Chanel must have been seductively sassy in crafting their text messages to Dr. Perfect from me, because he actually showed up at the bar to see us that night.  And he was as seemingly perfect as always while he was there with us.  And he promised to plan a date for Sunday.  And it went exactly like you think it did.

Date Attempt #5:  Saturday

Dr. Perfect:     You looked very cute last night at the bar :)

DD:     Thx :)  So did u.  R we still on for a date tomorrow?

Dr. Perfect:     Sure.  we'll do smthing.

DD:     What time r u thinking? 

Dr. Perfect:     After the football game.  I'll call.

DD:     What do u want to do?

Dr. Perfect:     We'll see.  whatever

Well, needless to say, "we'll see" just wasn't cutting it for me.  After another few texts of I-need-at-least-a-definite-time-cause-I'm-not-the-girl-who-sits-around-waiting-for-a-man, with him responding with various versions of you-are-sure-being-a-lot-of-work-how-dare-you-want-at-least-12-hours-advance-notice-on-the-second-date, and Dr. Perfect had completely fallen off his pedestal and down into the trenches of all other men in this world. 

I never did figure out why I was unintentionally keeping the doctor away—but I think it's safe to say, it sure wasn't a daily apple.

Lesson #9 in Post-Divorce Dating:  There are no perfect men in this world—only men who are better at hiding their flaws than others—but one should date these men without fear.  Eventually, even Superman has to remove his disguise and reveal his true identity.

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée

Nobody's Perfect

DD:     i met a guy last night :)  a very cute one

Rugrat:     Oo fun :)  not the one u have a date scheduled with already?

DD:     nope that's Mr. Songwriter.  this is a new one - he's a dentist

Rugrat:     Oo la la.  how old?  prior marriages?  kids?

DD:     28, no wives, no kids.  and texting me today :)

Rugrat:     Very nice.  Love him already.  Love the younger guy.  I'm going younger next lol.  so he feels sooo lucky to date an older woman :)

DD:     we'll see - i met him at a bar

Rugrat:     who cares?  Life is supposed to be fun :)  Google him.  Make sure he's a legit dentist - what's his name?

DD:     Dr. Perfect.  And trust me - he's perfect.  it's scary

Rugrat:     found him.  he's a legit dentist.  Dr. Perfect...but can't find a pic yet... have to trust u on that one...

Last night was pure craziness.  I really should know better.  When I get a text message from Rowdy and Zamboni on a random Wednesday night that says, "K's event going on at the martini bar 2nite - must support her - get here now!", I should just mentally—and physically—prepare myself for a night of very little sleep.

The evening started off fairly tame.  The three of us sat at the bar (i.e. perched ourselves attractively in view of all the comings and goings around us), made friends with the bartender (if you haven't learned this lesson yet, learn it now), enjoyed our free martinis (and a few others supplied by our new friend, the bartender), and caught up on each other's lives (i.e. intense gossip session occurred).

A few fun-filled martinis later, Rowdy spots a group of men, appearing to be close to our age, who enter the bar and sit themselves at a table across the bar.  Nudging Zamboni and I, who are seated on either side of her, Rowdy indicates the new direction of her gaze, and, pretty soon, all three of us are checking out the new arrivals.

Rowdy and I completely have the same taste in men, which actually works out well since she is happily married to Todd.  She spots them—I date them (sometimes).  It's a great system.  Zamboni, on the other hand, is at a disadvantage, since she is usually attracted to a different type.  However, Zamboni (the irresistible girl that she is) has snagged herself a seemingly-wonderful guy who she has decided to keep around for a short while now, and things are going great.  Luckily (or maybe depressingly) for me, that means any attractive, non-wedding-band-wearing guys are going to get pushed my way tonight.

"They're pretty cute—look!  That one kinda looks like Matthew McConaughey...a little, at least," suggests Rowdy, and the three of us consider them.  "They are certainly the only ones at this bar function who seem to be under the age of 40.  Date that one," she says, nodding in the direction of the McConaughey-look-a-like.  "You need new blog fodder anyway.  It's been a while since you had a good one."

"But please, didn't we already establish this?  Men don't talk to women at bars.  They will sit over there all night, yucking it up with each other, absolutely oblivious to the fact that there are even women in proximity.  I'm not sure I'm brave enough tonight to walk over there, and—let's be honest, here—I came straight from work.  I ain't lookin' that cute," I point out, indicating my jeans-and-tee-shirt appearance.

"True.  Okay.  I'll take care of it," Rowdy states matter-of-factly as she turns back towards Zamboni, who instantly snickers at Rowdy's comment.

"Uh, oh," Zamboni smiles devilishly, "this is gonna be good."

Uh-oh is right.  Rowdy "taking care of it" can only mean one thing—I should brace myself for the night to get wild.

Within ten minutes, Rowdy scouts out our bartender friend and buys a round of drinks for the guys' table.  Within twenty minutes, Bartender is delivering four vodka tonics to our new prey.  Within twenty-two minutes, sure enough, McConaughey-look-a-like is approaching.  With friends in tow.

"Are you ladies the ones who sent us the drinks?  Thanks so much!  We were just hanging out—we all actually went to dental school together and got together to catch up—and we were pleasantly surprised.  You have to let us return the favor and buy you ladies a round..." he says with a smile.

As you can imagine, the night went downhill (or uphill, as Rowdy would argue) from there.  Zamboni was stalked by two middle-aged men who seemed to have some creepy fetish for being rejected by her over and over again.  Rowdy almost fought with the girlfriend of one of the dentists after she started getting an attitude about us flirting with her man (even after Rowdy pointed out her wedding ring to the overprotective chick).  And, for the rest of the night, Dr. Perfect and I got to know each other.  We sat there, the two of us, engrossed in talking together at the bar amid all the chaos, the dancing, and the madness.

We called him Dr. Perfect because, well—he is.  He's a sweet, successful, funny, interesting, non-creepy, beer-drinking football fan who has a normal job with good hours, doesn't seem to take himself too seriously, and loves the nearby country-western bar just as much as we do.  All of a sudden, Zamboni is dragging us out because it's 1 a.m. and all three of us are working early in the morning, and Dr. Perfect and I still haven't run out of things to talk about.  So the only question now is—

Why is this guy single?

Dr. Perfect and I exchanged numbers that night, he called the next, and we set up a dinner date for a few days later.  Nobody's perfect—right?  I guess we'll soon find out if Dr. Perfect lives up to his name...

Or not.

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée