Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Frog #4 - Frog may be larger than he appears online


After the blind date, the preponderance of faux frogs, the non-stop rejection from frogs I hadn't met yet on Frogs.com, and the infamous 37 minute coffee date, I realized that dating? Well, it pretty much sucks when you're not ready for it. (It might suck when you are ready for it. I wouldn't know. I'll have to get back to you on that one.)

On the advice of the Elf-Therapist and the loud voice inside my head named "Common Sense", I decided to jump ship. I'd barely puckered up and kissed a single frog, but I was exhausted. After Mr. Wrong left, my biggest fear was, "How will I ever find someone again?" Now, my biggest fear wasn't finding someone - there seemed to be no shortage of frogs out there - it was finding someone suitable. Or, as I told the Elf . . . "My problem, Elf, is that I'm looking for Matt Damon and I keep getting Jack Black."

And then Santa Claus started coming to town and all bets were off. In case you were wondering, the first solo Christmas after your 14 year relationship ends is brutal. If the Grinch needed a personality stand-in, I was ready, willing and able. Termites in my smile? Greasy black banana peel heart? Yes and yes. Perfect time of year for feeling sorry for yourself, which I think is the secret value proposition at Frogs.com. "We prey on those with low self-esteem and match them with others who also feel crappy about themselves. Because two wrongs CAN be a love connection!"

With the benefit of hindsight and therapy, I assure you that I recognize the error of my ways. But like a dumb-ass, I logged back in to Frogs.com and that's where I met Frog #4 - "Jabba the Hut". He reached out to me, we exchanged a few emails, and my initial impression was favorable. 40 years old, employed, owned a home, similar hobbies, great sense of humor, smart. His online profile indicates that he is TALL. Like, giant tall. He is 6'7. I've never dated anyone taller than me before, so this is all very interesting, shiny, and new. I check out his photos and he's kind of handsome. What could go wrong?

A lot, as it turns out. I don't know when those photos were taken, but Frog #4 had packed an extra 80-100 pounds on his frame since his last photo shoot. He looked like a cross between Andre the Giant and Jabba the Hut. Okay, that's mean. But I will say this - had he not recognized me at the bar, I couldn't have picked that fat bastard out of a police lineup.

He might not have looked like Matt Damon, but I am not a shallow princess and as long as we were at the bar, I decided to have a glass of wine and give this Frog a chance to shine. We had a great first date and in spite of my concerns around being squashed to my untimely death by this man, I agreed to see him again.

Frog #4 and I went out a total of six times. At first, I thought there was potential. I mean, one night he even COOKED ME A MEAL. Then I realized . . . Frog #4 and I were spending a lot of time sitting on the couch and eating. After our third date, he stopped making any real effort, but he kept inviting me over to watch TV. And like a dumb-ass (recurring theme here) with nothing better to do, I kept showing up.

The Elf asked me how things were going and I mentioned that Frog #4 and I spent a lot of time at his place, to which he responded, "Jesus, Princess. Have you been living in a cave? When two people are dating, they usually go out. In public. Tell this frog he needs to take you out of his house and show you a good time."

Since history has shown that the Elf is right 99.7% of the time, I decided not to fight it and took his advice. Frog #4 and I made plans for an excellent sounding Saturday date. He would pick me up in the afternoon, we'd go to the Como Conservatory, and then afterwards, we'd have dinner and drinks at a German bar in St. Paul.

Let's fast-forward to date night, shall we? Frog #4 is running late. Really late. In fact, he is so late that there is no way we can go to the Conservatory before they close. He does show up at my house eventually - empty-handed, mind you - and we enjoy a drink before we leave for dinner. In the spirit of honesty, he enjoyed three of my beers, wandered around my house nosing about, and availed himself of my toilet before we managed to leave.

Things only got worse from there. First, he drives about 19 miles an hour and clearly has no idea where he's going, which is annoying on several levels. Second, when we get to the German place, all he wants to eat is a giant platter of salty, cured German meats. Served with Ritz crackers. This? Is not dinner. I'm not touching that weird meat so I proceed to drink two very large beers on an empty stomach, and then I'm looking around for a cot or similar so I can rest my weary bones. He eventually polishes off the entire platter (designed to serve a party of 4, by the way), has more to drink, and finally gets the clue that I'm ready to be done. And that's when things got interesting.

The check came. The waiter set it on the table, equidistant between us. And there it sat. And sat. And sat. Until I realized. Frog #4 wasn't leaving this joint until I threw down some cash. Now, I'm a modern woman and I'm happy to pay for my own beer. But when a guy asks you out on a date, the expectation is set that you might not have to pay for your own beer. And when that guy shows up late, drinks YOUR beer, takes a leak in YOUR toilet, and then expects you to split the bill for a giant meat platter that you didn't partake of? Well . . . that makes this the worst date ever.

Needless to say, the date didn't end well. I was tired and now cranky, since I just paid for this morbidly obese heart-attack waiting to happen to ingest the RDA of meat for a small country. He took me home, came in, and I think he was hoping to kiss the princess, but she had other ideas. He eventually got the hint and left . . . and that is the last time I laid eyes on Frog #4.

What did our heroine learn from this? That some internet Frogs may be larger in real life than they initially appear. Proceed with caution. And always have enough cash to cover your half of the bill and cab fare home.

© 2010 Princess D

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