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4th date with K: We see a play about fishermen and S writes a dear john email

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When we last left our heroine, me, she was being wined, dined, and made to watch a fantasy TV show. Now for the dramatic (actually not at all) conclusion to this dating trilogy:

K and I continued to chat for the next few weeks, but we were both busy and hadn’t been able to schedule a date. This is one tough thing about online dating, and I guess dating in general: It’s hard to keep the momentum going when there’s a lot of time between dates. You don’t want to be texting or emailing back and forth 24-7, because who has time for that, but you don’t want there to be complete silence between the two of you either. In case you were wondering, this is what 40% of my conversations with K revolved around:

kev convo

He could not have been more serious about that show. Do you like how he legitimately scolded me for watching the episodes out of order?

Anyway, I was still on the fence about K. He was great in a lot of ways, but I just wasn’t feeling any crazy connection with him or like we had a ton in common. I decided to give it one more shot because honestly, how many single 20 something dudes would come to your apartment to make you a gourmet dinner on your third date? I needed to be totally sure before I let this one go.

We finally found a free weekend. K surprised me by telling me we were going to see a play by a writer who I had mentioned I liked. I’ll give it to him, K was a thoughtful dude. I had actually wanted to see this play so I was excited, except two days later he texted me that it had sold out before he could get tickets. Womp womp.

Well, he tried. A for effort. I started to throw out other date ideas, but K had a plan:

K: I found another play for us to see.

Me: Awesome! What is it?

K: It’s about fishermen.

Me: O…kay?

The play was as terrible as it sounds. It’s literally about English fishermen dying at sea. For two hours. It was some depressing shit for a Friday night, let me tell you, although K claimed he loved it (wtf). The upside was there was a free wine tasting beforehand in the lobby of the theater, so mama got her buzz on before the show started. Also worth noting: we were the only people there who were ineligible for a senior discount on our tickets.

Afterwards we grabbed dinner, and the conversation was notttt flowing so easily… we had essentially run out of things to talk about in three dates. We went back to my place and yadda yadda yadda, only this time I knew I didn’t want him to sleep over. I was all “sooooo my mom’s coming into the city super early so it would be best if you didn’t stay.” Which was true, but the real reason was, “You snore like a grizzly bear and I’m kind of over you. Please leave.”

I had officially made my mind up about K. He was a nice guy, really thoughtful and sweet, but that wasn’t enough. I just didn’t feel a real connection with him and the fact that he lived so far away was an added pain that I didn’t like him enough to deal with. Also, I could definitely tell he was into me, which should have thrilled me. I’ve wanted lots of guys to like me as much as K did, but the fact that it just made me uncomfortable I think was very telling.

Now I had to end it. And I know I acted all high and mighty in a certain recent post, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider pulling a fade away for a hot second. It is tempting. But once I decided that a guy who BYO’d a broiling pan to my apartment deserved better, the next question was, how to do it? And what do I say? Full disclosure: my longest run with a guy on okcupid, a guy named J who I was seeing last summer, ended when he broke it off with me in a crowded bar. Frankly I am still getting over that trauma; beyond the fact that it was humiliating, it was so unnecessary. To me, you need to be in an exclusive  relationship for a measurable period of time (which we weren’t) to warrant breaking it off with someone in person like that. A seven date run (or in this case, four) does not call for such theatrics.

So I decided to send K a good old fashioned Dear John email. Luckily I already had his email address from when he sent me a certain document that referenced cooking things to ‘tender perfection’. I crafted my email with L’s help, wanting to be brief, honest, and sensitive at the same time. I hit send thinking I would never hear from K again because honestly, would you reply to a creepy Dear John email from someone you went out with four times?

Well, he did. He sent me the nicest response ever, thanking me for my honesty and saying he’d “remember our time together fondly”. It was so nice that 5% of me regretted kicking him to the curb. Then I remembered the awkward conversation from our last date and quickly came to my senses. I will say this, though: K was a class act, especially for a self proclaimed ex-hippie who was once way into shrooms. He was a genuinely nice guy, and I wish him the best.

Also, after mocking poor K for his obsession with a certain TV show (which literally resulted in backlash from readers in our comments section), I need to get something off my chest:

kev convo game of thrones

You were right, K. You were right all along. And I can only assume that you were the mastermind behind this.

3rd date with K: Guess who’s coming to dinner (and watching game of thrones)

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After our second date, I got a text from K saying that he’d like to make me dinner. What in the what? This had never happened to me before. I knew he was into cooking… he had mentioned on our first date that his dream was to open his own restaurant. Having a man prepare food to for me while I do nothing is essentially my dream, but the fact that the K lived an hour away with his brother and sister in law made the logistics… tricky. I asked if he would mind cooking at my place and he said that was fine. He also said he’d send me some ‘entree options’ soon.

What I received was a full blown menu in a Word document that was so comically serious there’s no way I can avoid sharing it with the world. Behold, K’s menu choices:

kev menu

You guys. Can we talk about this document for a sec. The descriptions (tender perfection!). The recommendations. The options. The SOUP OPTIONS. Omg. I basically died. Accompanying the menu was, no joke, a checklist of kitchen items so intense it could have been for this:

and an email that made me slightly uncomfortable in its seriousness. I don’t mean to sound like a cold bitch; the whole thing, while over the top, was really sweet, thoughtful and honestly, very Lloyd Dobbler. The problem was, I could tell from his uncomfortably enthusiastic email that at this point K was more into me than I was into him, which honestly never happens to me. I had no idea what to think. I started to wonder if I was one date away from a grand gesture like this:

Or this:

(Okay sorry, that scene actually bummed me out because how great was Heath Ledger?)

Confused, I immediately turned to L and D for their expert analysis:

kev convo with d

kev convo with l

They both came to the same general conclusion I had: K was really sweet and charming, and the menu, while hilarious, was also adorable. But the level of seriousness he was displaying after two dates was slightly off-putting. I still very much was trying to get to know K and figure out how much I even liked him. At the same time, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered by this romcom-esque turn of events.

The night of our date, K arrived at my door carrying (no joke) a broiling pan, huge steaks, clams, and all sorts of other shit, including flowers. Wow, I thought. How many single gals dream of this? It’s honestly what I’d secretly hoped dating would be like all the time: men wining and dining me, bringing me flowers and presenting me with comically elaborate dinner menus. Unfortunately the cold hard reality is that most single dudes out there can barely handle scheduling a time and place to meet. Some of them can’t remember where they parked their cars. So I resolved to enjoy experiencing the opposite end of the spectrum for once, because God knows when (or even if) it would come along again.

K cooked an elaborate dinner while I glugged wine and watched him work. The food was delicious and the wine continued to flow while we ate. Afterwards, we debated what to watch or at least pretend to watch before we started making out. I’d known from the very beginning that K was a self proclaimed “huge” Game of Thrones fan. The ‘you should message me if’ section of his okc profile actually reads: If you can’t stop thinking about Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire. On our second date K gasped in horror when he discovered I had HBO but had never seen the show. He then made me promise him (seriously) that I would give it a chance. So really I shouldn’t have been surprised when the following exchange occurred:

Me: What do you want to watch? Any ideas?

K: (Excitedly) We could get you started on Game of Thrones. We could watch the first episode.

Me: * sigh* Okay.

This was K’s reaction:

tom-haverford-amirite

Fantasy medieval warfare was not exactly my idea of sexy date fodder, but my hands were tied. This dude had just lugged large kitchen equipment up my stairs and cooked me a steak that made me see God. And the idea of me watching this show literally seemed to be turning him on (which in hindsight was slightly troubling), so how could I say no? We watched the first two episodes, which were full of more tits and beheadings than I can possibly explain. At this point we were two and a half bottles of wine deep and it was getting late. So we started making out and yada yada yada…

Then I faced a dilemma. We were both a little tipsy and I knew K was in no shape to drive. It was late and I felt bad kicking this guy who had been so sweet to me to the curb. So I invited him to stay over. Which is not a big deal… I’m 28, we’re all adults here. But it’s also not something I generally do because mama likes her space, especially when I’m sleeping. I’m a tosser, a turner, a kicker, and a flailer. Basically I sleep like this:

starfish

And if you disturb me from my slumber, God help you (L and D can attest to this). So I honestly should have foreseen there being an issue and made him sleep on the couch, but I was tired and in my red wine stupor thought, ‘It’ll be fine.’

It was not fine. K snored. Actually ‘snored’ is not an accurate description. I know snoring. This was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced… a buzz saw at full volume. It was so. Effing. Loud. I laid there, tired and frustrated, considering my options. First I tried to wake K up and make him sleep on the couch, but this dude would not. wake. the hell. up. I was shoving him full force and getting no response. If it hadn’t been for the terrifying noises coming from his body I would have pronounced him dead.

So finally I moved. I slept in my roommate’s (empty) bed. And I was not pleased. I heard him get up early the next morning and walk around my apartment, no doubt wondering where the hell I’d gone. I came out to find him in the living room, sheepishly putting his shoes on.

“Oh man, I’m sorry. Did my snoring wake you?”

My cranky, sleep deprived self had to bite my tongue to avoid a snarky response like: “Wake me? No. That would imply that I actually was able to FALL ASLEEP, which I was not.” The rational part of me knew that snoring isn’t anyone’s fault. K couldn’t help it. I’ve been told I snore before… what can you do? Switch beds, that’s what you can do.

So instead I answered: “Yeahhhh, it’s okay, no big deal.” At this point I was ready for homeboy to GTFO. Besides the fact that 12+ hours is a long time for two people who barely know each other to spend together, I had not brushed my teeth (which we’ve learned many men actually think is normal) or had my coffee. So I was desperately clinging to the single shred of faux cheerfulness I had managed to muster. At any moment, Morning S was going to rear her head, and let me tell you, Morning S is not a nice person.

Except K wanted to shoot the shit. He asked me what I was doing all day (I had plans), if I wanted to get breakfast (thanks but I’m good), and when I was free next (I’d check my calendar and let him know). Finally I scooted him and his broiler pan out the door but not before he could attempt to full on make out with me when we said goodbye (again, NO ONE had brushed their teeth at this point. Gross).

Date rating: 7/10. K had a perfect 10 before he forced me to watch Game of Thrones, snored me out of my own bed, and overstayed his welcome in the morning.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of S and K: a dating story. Our 4th (and final) date will be posted on Friday.