The 40ish Year Old Virgin

My blind date from the matchmaker/columnist was a disaster. He was basically the 40 Year Old Virgin…minus the looks…boyish charm….personality…or social skills. And YES, it was that bad.

The date was originally slated for Sunday which he cancelled a few hours beforehand. I was convinced he decided to stay in and watch the NFL playoff games (as I did). I know that was not the case now, he actually cancelled because he was tired and had a scratchy throat. Dinner was rescheduled for Wednesday night at 7:30 at an upscale but casual neighborhood restaurant just outside the city.

I refused to arrive early so I actually got off the subway and waited out a train or two to plan my arrival exactly at the designated time, hoping he would already be there and eliminate any awkwardness of me looking around for him. That’s how it works 99% of the time when meeting a guy for the first time. It’s just understood.

I walked into the tiny but quaint restaurant which had a very homey and intimate atmosphere. When I checked in at the hostess stand I noticed an older, well into his 50′s maybe 60′s gentleman sitting alone at the bar on his Blackberry. Shit! That’s him! The host informed me my date had not yet arrived. My relief was only temporary. Now I was annoyed he was late. While he fumbled in a perplexed manner of where to seat me in the nearly vacant room, a portly nebbish man entered and uttered “hi, I have a reservation with Datehater.”

That’s me, hi Donald. And the fun begins here.

The fact I wasn’t attracted to him was the least of my problems – or his – depending how you look at it. He was so visibly nervous, admittedly so, that I empathized with him. Because I’m pretty sure this is the first date he’s ever been on……ever. At this point, I knew we were in no way a match so I just tried to put him at ease. In fact, the only things we have in common are that we are the same age and both live in the greater Boston metropolitan area. That’s it!

He looked like he was sweating bullets and it was about 30 degrees out, his  nervousness was made worse when he opted to not drink…. Anything…. I couldn’t get a drink in me fast enough meanwhile. When the waitress came over he ordered water to accompany my glass of Montepulciano and then said he needed a few minutes to look at the menu.

“I don’t really understand this menu. Why is pasta separate from the main courses? What’s agnolotti? What’s antipasti? Like meats right? I’d rather stay home and eat. In fact, I’m not really hungry. I ate a bunch earlier today and I’m full. Plus, I’m nervous so I don’t think I’m going to order. I don’t usually waste money on fancy places like this. ”

But, we’re not paying for this so it’s not a waste. In Italy, they eat pasta as a first course, that’s why it’s listed on its own. Agnolotti is moon shaped pasta. Oh, I hope you’re not offended, but I’m hungry and plan on eating dinner!

The amiable waitress came over and started to explain the various menus. Apparently they have a special list of bar snacks that are one or two bites of something, basically to munch on before you order your appetizers. Everything looked mouth-watering to me and I immediately gravitated towards a salad with pistachios and a pasta filled with sun chokes and truffles.

“Are you folks ready to order?”

“Uh….yeah, I’m not hungry so I’m just going to order one or two of the snacks. Bring me the meatball and the rice ball please. Oh and water is fine.”

I’ll start with the fried olive snack. Then I’d like the pistachio salad and (since I was feeling ever so slightly self-conscious about ordering like a pig in comparison) I’ll have a half portion of the sun choke pasta as my entrée.

So I’m on a legitimate blind dinner date with a man who is not eating. And rub salt in the wound…not drinking either. WTF?! Meanwhile when she brought over bread with home-made warm ricotta cheese, (he did not know what that was either mind you) he had no problem wolfing that down. So the not hungry thing made no sense. We had $100 to spend on dinner are you kidding me buddy? I’m friggin’ eating….and eating well chump!

I’m not going to get into his physical appearance, it’s almost irrelevant. I was not attracted to him and we can leave it at that. I am an active healthy person and when he started talking about his affinity for Chinese and breakfast buffets I think that solidified our differences in health and lifestyle.

So what made you decide to do this matchmaking blind date?

“Well, one of my jobs is at an assisted living facility and the director there told me it’s time I settle down and find a nice woman and have a family. He helped me fill out the application and told me he wanted to be invited to the wedding.”

I’m pretty sure that’s code for it’s time he puts down the comic books and go on a date with a real life woman.

I’m not sure if it was due to his inexperience or skittishness, but I’m pretty sure he did not ask me one question about myself. I volunteered a few bits of information in-between bites, but this worked out conveniently since I was the only one eating and he had nothing else to do. He got up a few times to go to the bathroom, during which time I told the waitress to keep the drinks coming for me. She looked at me strangely, not understanding what kind of dinner date doesn’t order dinner. I think she was even more annoyed than I was. He sat and watched me eat, then order dessert. Then coffee.

I can count the few bits of information I learned about him on one hand and yet somehow managed to kill 2 hours eating and making small talk. He hasn’t seen his family in 5 years. He grew up in a hard scrabble rough part of Jersey just outside of Newark. He went to music school. He doesn’t really go out and never goes out to eat. He had never heard of the Miami Heat, watched no sports and didn’t really know who Joe Paterno was or what the big story at Penn State was. He said he plays tennis. Yeah….I’m gonna say that’s big fat lie. No way this guy’s running after anything, no less a ball. And then he started yawning incessantly in front of me. It was about 9:15. I suppose I could have cut the date short by skipping dessert but why should I not experience the full gastronomic delights of such a well revered restaurant?!

He asked for the check (which I assumed I was going to get and submit receipts for since it was a dinner for one), but he made a big deal of saying how instead of splitting it, he’ll just pay for it and get reimbursed. He then sat staring at the $65 total and said, “how much should I tip? I never know how to do this or what to leave. Is $15 okay?”

Yup, that’ fine, I’m gong to get my coat!

At this point the evening became a blur, although I dreaded the fact that we needed to be photographed together as both proof of the date and for publication. KILL ME NOW!!! I faked a polite smile and prayed he wasn’t going to put his arm around me. Luckily a quick shot did the trick and I had one foot out the door when he started mumbling something about how he used to weigh 240 or 340 lbs. and how he lost all this weight. It shows how disconnected I was that I can’t recall whether it was 240 or 340, honestly made no difference except now I was thinking he didn’t eat because he was on a diet and about to go home and scarf down 3 or 4 Jenny Craig hungry-man entrées. Just bad, and sad, no matter how you look at it. For both of us…..Mostly me though.

I spoke with the editor the next morning and told her how awful and incredibly awkward the date was, how socially inept he was and that I didn’t want to say anything about the date that would hurt him or portray me as a bitch. When I told her the story of the night she seemed to find it rather amusing, laughing uncontrollably at times when I nearly wanted to cry because it was so pathetic. No such luck, they’re doing the piece and I was as diplomatic as possible. What really gets me is that he told her he wasn’t nervous at all and portrayed himself as normal and well-adjusted, but at least admitted we had nothing in common.

I almost wished he was an asshole so I could have ripped him a new one and attributed this to be the worst date I’ve ever been on. Instead, I have to rank it as the third worst, behind the guy that turned and walked away from me on the street during the date after we argued because he insisted living in Brooklyn wasn’t living in New York City and the arrogant putz I grew to absolutely loathe and wanted to smack in the face mid-date.

So that’s where he ranked. Third behind those two.

I had an adventure I’d rather have not had, but no one can accuse me of not trying and not willing to take chances. The best parts of the evening were the homemade pasta and getting home early enough to watch Top Chef. I would have given my right arm to have been with Steve Carrell’s character instead.