You've Got to Be Meowing Kidding Me!

Hello all,

Last week I went out on a date with a man who shares the name of a man in my immediate family, but we’ll just call him; Not Mr. Rogers. He is tall, tan, thin, and more than slightly older than I am. The age difference didn’t seem to be a problem because Not Mr. Rogers is energetic, full on fun trivia, and has very nice eyes.

Our first outing, which we did not count as an actual date, consisted of a walk around an Indy burro and a long talk on a park bench. He was very captivated by me and had many funny eccentric tendencies. Not Mr. Rogers doesn’t watch TV, so many of my references were lost on him and explaining them lost a lot of the comedic effect, but he still acted interested. With no common interests, ages that contain none of the same numbers, and a non-date that took place mostly in the dark; all signs pointed to a successful date.

He asked me to meet him where he worked, a food bank that sends supplies to victims of national disasters. This was not my ideal setting for a date, but who knows, stranger things have happened……..probably. Many of the quirky idiosyncrasies from the first date had lost their charm in the florescent light of the concrete warehouse. He showed me around; canned goods, ambulance, emergency call center, it was all interesting, but in a completely unimpressive way.

As we walked around the vacant building, he meowed. I have a friend who says the word “meow”, but she replaces it in sentences, “Shut the meow up” or “And then we can meow or whatever” even “Meow-bye.” It’s kind of like “smurf”, it’s funny and infectious. What Not Mr. Rogers was doing was nothing like that. He was actually meowing, like a cat, like a screaming, lost, and scared cat. He did it randomly as we walked around or change topics of conversation. I can’t even explain to you how much of a deal breaker that was.

He also dramatically fake punched me. He did it as an act of endearment; like, “You’re so cute, I’m going to hit you.” Being the youngest of four sons, terrible at ball sports, and a flincher by nature, this brought back some less than fond memories.

Hanging out in an ambulance was fun and all but as the evening was winding down I was trying to find a way out, but then he led me to a dark corner of warehouse that was lit by only an exit sign. He had constructed a mini sitting area with broken down cardboard boxes and blankets intended for flood victims. This was very ….creative…..and ….and thoughtful, but seriously….come on. I won’t say what happened after that…because it ruins my credibility.

As he wished me a fond farewell he gave me a bag of slightly expired Sun Chips, a box of limited edition lime Cheetos, a flat of Gatorade, and a blanket that said “Horth Carolina”. It was meant for a popular sports college, but the blanket manufacturer misprinted them so they were donated to the food bank. I’m not going to lie, these gifts did sweeten the pot a little, but oddly enough it takes a little more than expired snacks to win my heart.

After a series of awkwardly suffocating emails and one-sided phone calls, I finally ended the “relationship-type-thing” today. It wasn’t necessarily for any of the reasons stated in this blog, but it also wasn’t NOT because of any of the reasons in this blog, if you catch my drift. NO JUDGEMENT!