There are things you probably should refrain from saying to a girl who you deem to have a questionable level of sanity. “Here is my home address, social security number and mother’s maiden name,” is one example. “I don’t scare easily…I’ve dated some pretty crazy people,” is another.
Most obviously you don’t tell her you’re concerned she’s crazy…
And yes, that was said to me.
Here’s my story:
Remember when I was radio silenced by the Not-So-Amazing Houdini? Well the day of the un-replied-to text about what I was looking for, I happened to be hanging out with some friends and their friends, who I did not know. After feeling a bit ignored and “dumped” – even though that isn’t at all what had occurred – I got a little flirty with one of the guys I didn’t know very well. He offered me his number before we both left (separately) and sent me texts my entire drive home.
Within a few hours a plan was hatched: a date would occur the upcoming Friday for dinner and question mark.
When Friday rolled around I was very amp’d about going on a date. I realize in hindsight I was way more into the idea of the date than the actual date himself. This isn’t to knock him, but he was (and continues to be) pretty opposite of my type both physically and personalityally (a word I just made up… I do that.)
I’ve referred to my type (in the past) as blue-collar or physical labor doing, tall, established looking – read: older – and maybe some tattoos thrown in there for good measure. He was more of the country clubbing, summers in nantucket, white collar professional type. There’s an appeal to that for me, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t think it’s where I see myself… but enough about that.
Yeah, get to the date already….
He picked me up at my place. We chose Mexican food for dinner – Ole! I love anything that counts binge drinking margaritas as “themed” – and headed to a nearby LARGE Mexican restaurant. He valeted the car and put our name in while we got a drink at the bar.
There was joking. There were questions and answers. There was sitting down and eating and enjoying yet another margarita (or 3.)
We talked about family (we have similar family situations) and goals both professionally and personally. We talked about our likes and dislikes – stamps and people’s knees, respectively – and some life horror stories (including dating crazy people.)
At this point I made the joke that any girl who says she isn’t at least a little bit crazy is a huge liar and is probably bat-shit insane.
This lead him to ask me if I am crazy.
I told him that based on my previous statement, a teeny bit, yes.
Apparently he’d had enough fun hanging out with me that we went down the road to a bar for some drinks after dinner. There was a live band playing so I was content as fuck. There was golf on TV, so he was good. After a couple drinks and screaming at the top of our lungs to converse, we decided it was time to go. He drove me home and then re-brought up a song or band I had mentioned liking of which he’d never heard.
I assumed this was his way of saying he wanted to come up and be introduced to the music. Since I did not think this was a way to get to my bajingo… I went with it and invited him up.
He came up. I played a couple songs. We had approximately 30 more seconds of conversation before the inevitable happened:
He got up, gave me a hug, and left saying that he’d talk to me the next day.
Oh, that’s not what you thought I was going to say?
The next morning I did as I was told by a friend and I sent him a “thank you for dinner and drinks. I had a very nice time and I look forward to seeing you again soon,” text.
The following Monday I sent him a text (a last ditch effort… Debbie waits for no man) asking him about the second date he had eluded to in the car when driving back from dinner/drinks. I got a pretty clear answer, I think:
“I think you are very cute and fun but you have me a little worried about you being crazy.”
He actually said he thought I was at a 9+ on the scale of 1-crazy.
He actually said that.
Let me tell you something… if you legit think a girl is fucking insane, you do not TELL her you think that. That’s the kind of shit that gets you stalked or whatever…
I’m really open about what I think. This is true in real life but especially in this blog. I mean, I wrote a blog post about how I’d get away with murder. I may be a little crazy and I may think some fucked up things, but I’m absolutely not insane. I’m nowhere near a 9+ on the scale of 1-crazy.
It was all for the best. Someone who thinks my normal is top notch crazy is not going to mesh well with me. Plus, a little bit crazy is fun. It’s not worth worrying about whether or not a girl is going to build a shrine to you in her closet… probably.