Let us move onward to the next
casualty date, shall we? Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, “The Relationship Guru”.
At first, I was struck by this girl’s photos. She’s beautiful in an earthy sort of way – no, not in a hippie dippy, pot smoking, dances barefoot in the Height kind of way. I mean, she’s beautiful in a legitimately earthy sort of way; like, she seems grounded, calm and approachable. She has long flowing red hair, an abundance of adorable freckles and a smile that completely changes the way her face looks from one photo to another. And ohmygod, do I love a girl with a great smile. So I e-mailed her and said that I thought her smile lights up her whole face. (It’s one of my better introductory e-mails, if I do say so myself. See, I’m growing!) So we shared a few pleasant e-mails and I gave her my number.
Now, let me break away from this train of thought for one moment and tell you that I absolutely detest talking on the phone. I hate it. I’ll text you all damned day and write you a novel of an e-mail but I will avoid talking on the phone at all costs. So when I give out my number, it is always with the caveat that you should text me. Now, I realize that that probably raises red flags with some people. There are a lot of online daters out there who want a “voice verification” to prove you are, in fact, a real person, not a scammer, or worse: a basement dwelling geek who gets his/her kicks from mind-fucking real online daters. And when someone says to me, I’d like a “voice verification”, I’m likely to respond in kind – I’m not totally unreasonable. But when someone just decides to call without having texted at least once, I get slightly annoyed. Also, you are 100% guaranteed that your call will be screened and directed straight to my voicemail – Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect $200.
So on that note, readers, I think you can imagine what happened next: RG decided to call me. No text before hand. No e-mail warning ahead of time. Nope, she went straight for the voice verification without so much as a heads-up. Strike One.
So I texted her back after listening to her voicemail and told her that I was busy at the moment (which I was, it wasn’t bullshit) but that I got her message and she should text me later that evening around 8-ish.
“8-ish” rolls around and guess who’s calling me again? Christ on a stick! What about “you should text me later” didn’t she understand? Strike Two.
But I decided to pick up this time – evidently, this girl was not getting my message well at all. So we talked for a few minutes and here’s what I learned from our telephone conversation: she’s an independent “couples and relationship coach” (no, not a marriage & family counselor, but a “couples coach” - translation: no degree and no license to practice), a part-time nanny and an aspiring hip hop dancer (a what?! A ginger-headed hip hop dancer? Is that even possible in nature?). Yep, you read that right: she has three jobs … and she’s thirty-two years old. (Oh come on, just grow up and learned to focus your career already. *Eye Roll*)
So we talked about trying to meet up sometime. Coffee? A drink? Lunch? Oh no, RG invited me to her monthly ladies meet-up movie night at her house. “If you’re not too intimidated by that, I’d love for you to come.”
Now, it’s not my policy (at all) to make first dates with a girl AND her group of friends, but on the other hand, when someone casually drops the words, “if you’re not intimidated”, I take that as a personal challenge. Hell no! I’m not scared of anything! I’m a cape wearing superhero single girl bad ass! You cannot scare me with your silly girls’ movie night! But you know that secretly I was really fucking intimidated. Little ol’ me in a house full of strangers sitting in judgment of their friend’s newest date. Will she have vodka at this movie night? Will I be able to find a large plant to hide behind? Ohmygod, so much pressure.
So I put on my metaphorical single-girl superhero cape, stop by the liquor store for a lovely bottle of wine and then to the grocery store for “movie food group” items (M&Ms, microwave popcorn, etc., none of which I actually eat myself) and then I made my way to her house.
When I walked into her teeny tiny shoe box-sized house, I gave her a friendly hug hello and after a quick introduction to each guest, I politely shook their hands. Once introductions were over, RG made a beeline back to her kitchen where she was making dinner for her guests. So I sat and made small talk with about a half a dozen ladies and all the while my palms were sweating, and I’m wondering: how long does it take to make dinner? When will I actually get to talk to my date? And where’s the nearest bottle of Grey Goose?
Since my date was preoccupied with cooking in the kitchen and not engaging in any actual conversation with me, here’s what I learned through careful observation: photographs of RG and the same man were displayed everywhere; as RG’s friends arrived, they all asked the same question, “Where’s Rico tonight?” Hmmm … Rico … Rico … uhhh, who the hell is Rico?
As the night wore on, I realized more and more that RG is making zero effort to talk to me. And then I started to think, other than during my arrival, she hasn’t made so much as even eye contact with me at all! I had more eye contact and conversation with everyone else in the house, including RG’s cat, than with RG herself!
Later, RG and her friends are discussing “Sex & The City”, a personal favorite television show. So I listened intently, curious to know what my “date” thought of the show. (I’m not kidding, I loved this show so much that I bought and still own all six seasons on DVD.) RG began to complain about how, as a “couples coach”, she was appalled and disgusted by how dumb the characters are, how they bounced from bed to bed, relationship to relationship and never really learned anything. And I’m thinking, ‘well yeah, because mature and stable relationships would make for a terrible comedy.’ I also couldn’t help but wonder how successful her own independent couples coaching business would be if her clients knew she invited me over for a date with a group of her friends and photos of her and her gentleman friend strewn about her home.
And just about the time I was about to announce my early departure (because clearly this date was going nowhere), who arrives at her house? You guessed it: it’s Rico. And then it became abundantly clear that this is not just her boyfriend, but her live-in boyfriend. Strike Three! You’re OUT!
I am not a judgmental person in general. Yes, I have my judgey moments like anyone else, but I don’t live in judgment of people. How people live their lives and how and whom they love are really none of my concern … that is, until they invite me into the folds. I’m not sure what RG’s motivation was for inviting me to her home when she clearly has a live-in boyfriend and said boyfriend would be joining her and her friends for a movie. Was this a polyamorous relationship? Were they seeking some sort of three-way? I never asked. All I know is that neither of those options were appealing to me and they never would appeal to me, especially considering how the rest of the evening was conducted. Sufficed to say, I high-tailed it home and I never looked back.
I did hear from RG one more time after that night. She invited me over to her home again. I politely declined with no explanation whatsoever and wished her well.