This one’s a long tale, kiddies, so I broke it up in two.  Last spring, I had an interesting date that went all TYPES of haywire. He made a great first impression…but then slipped up and was himself: an inappropriate, overly-flirty faux-gul at large. My life, your entertainment. Part 2 tomorrow. Enjoy! ::deuces::

Let’s face it: in NYC, meeting men is actually easy. Meeting men you want to meet? Now that can be harder to do.

As a busy single parent with a career, I’ve got a full plate. On top of that, I’m very picky…as every woman should be. But when you add all that up, I’m not apt or interested in meeting men in a bar/restaurant.  As a result, my friends appoint themselves as “on the lookout” for me. (Even an ex-boss got into it once – that’s another story though!)

Knowing how I am, from pickiness to my schedule, one of my best girlfriends hit me on BBM with a photo and asked “think he’s cute?” He was. But cute ain’t enough. She quickly dropped me all the vital stats: height: 6′ 6″ (yes!); approximate weight: strong safety category (win!);  status: divorced with one son (ok, I can work with that); close in age to me and ready for a relationship.  He’s a complete gentleman: manners, class, pulls out chairs, opens doors. Love it! (I’m old school on a few things.) Sounds good, right? The kicker: he’s in the entertainment industry. UGH…  See, I worked in music for a while. As a result, I know too much of what really goes on to consider a serious relationship with someone whose livelihood is built on that. Not that there aren’t good men in entertainment…I just haven’t met one yet. *cough*  But I digress! At any rate, I figured he came from a friend’s recommendation; I’ll give it a whirl.

After a few days of texts and phone tag, our schedules match up for cocktails at a swanky midtown penthouse bar that I

Cheers!

love. As fate would have it, I’ll be coming from a charity gala, all glammed up. Perfect! I arrive first and sit in the center of the long bar. In he walks, a little late, a little more casually dressed than appropriate for our venue, but handsome and taller in person than even 6′ 6″ sounds. Built like a football player indeed, albeit a few years post-season…meh, we can work on that, right? Right!

One nightcap and a great conversation later, he walked me to a waiting cab and politely opened the door. Capped with a gentle and proper kiss on my cheek, I agreed to see him again soon.  An excellent first date! Fast forward a few days and I’ve accepted an invitation to a pool party at his place in NJ. Nothing huge, I’m told, just some close friends, grilling dinner, elegant and small, overlooking the Hudson from his pool. I’d love to!

This is where our acquaintance goes batshits.

As I’m getting ready on the day of the party, he is blowing up my phone.

• Call 1: re-confirming address and start time. I’ve got 3 hours before it begins – I’m good. >click<
• Call 2: just making sure I have directions – how am I getting there? I lived in NJ for a bit – I know my way, thanks. >click<
• Call 3: what time will I arrive approximately? Welp, it begins in 2 hours now – I quote him a non-eager, normal time. >click<
• Call 4: What muhfucka, WHAT?! Any dietary restrictions? Allergies? Um, no! NO dammit! >CLICK!<

Hmm, he’s calling a lot. Must be a full house already. Perhaps he’s just eager for me to get there, since I guess I’m the host’s date. And with that, I’m out the door, looking very Saint Tropez chic in linen and gold jewelry with a fab cover-up packed in a straw bag.

When he meets me at the train station, ::record scratch/skip sound::

Look for part 2 on August 20! Don’t look at me in that tone of voice…you know this post was long enough…