My local residents aren’t doing so well with interesting date planning. I can completely understand if someone comes from out of town and isn’t sure what to do in the area, but the people who live here all the time? I don’t get it. They all default to food. I guess it lends some credibility to the cliché that the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach (I’ve also heard it’s through the chest with a knife, but I think a bullet would be faster).
My out-of-town dates sound like they’ll be a bit more adventurous. I’m looking forward to those this month.
I feel like I get baited and switched a lot. First date #5 sent a text asking if I was up for some “silly” fun this weekend, and when I said yes, he balked and essentially left it up to me. Good thing I have lists and lists in my head for just such emergency date activities.
I offered a ghost tour, but he informed me that while he loves horror films (his favorite genre), he is not keen on actual paranormal activity. Pity. I’ll save that one for a date who might appreciate it. He promised that he was up for whatever next activity I mentioned. This is where I say that I kind of take issue with that statement. My friends and I follow the rule that if you want to veto an idea, you are obligated to submit an alternative for discussion. That usually cuts down on naysayers for group activities (especially restaurant selections). Then again, if I’d asked him to make a recommendation, we probably would have wound up on a dinner date. Except that I would have vetoed that and made an alternative suggestion, so I guess he did me a favor by cutting out the middle man.
I selected glow-in-the-dark miniature golf and a laser maze. True to his word, he was on-board for everything – except the laser maze. Who doesn’t like laser mazes? I guess I’ll save that one for a future date, too.
We met at a strip mall parking lot and went to a casual eating establishment to grab some food to energize us for an intense night of mini golf. As we entered, I noticed (again) that I am really bad about letting people get doors for me. I have been independent for so long, that I naturally charge ahead and forget to allow my dates to be chivalrous. I need to work on that.
At dinner we briefly discussed all sorts of topics from paranormal activity (and why in the world I want to spend the night in a haunted house of all places [because it sounds like fun – obviously]), our respective employment histories, religion, video games, comic books, superhero movies and their continuous reinventions, alternate universes, and so forth. You know, standard fare.
As we golfed, we delved into the more serious topics of music, movies, and hobbies. I noticed that he did not dance to the 80s pop music while he golfed, so I toned my dancing down a bit. Didn’t want him to feel pressure to have fun and he probably didn’t want to let his guard down during our very serious competition. I’m a terrible mini-golfer [I’ve never actually played any other type of golf, but assume the lack of skill would transfer], nor am I all that competitive anymore, but I almost had a complete come apart when he asked after four holes if I really cared whether he was keeping score. Yes! Of course I care. I don’t know why I care, but I do. Deeply. Imagine how difficult it was for me at the end of the first 18 holes when I realized he skipped scores for two of them. Two! And there was no way to know which holes he’d skipped. Needless to say, my OCD was quite adamant about taking over scorekeeper duties for the second round. He seemed relieved (I wonder if he sensed the amount of effort it was taking to control my crazy at that moment).
As far as mini-golf courses go, this one was really not impressive (black lights and glow-in-the-dark paint notwithstanding). Then again, compared to the “Wonders of the World” golf course in Overboard, what mini-golf course is?
The funniest part about scorekeeping, is that at the end of the game, I never even bothered to tally the results. I just put the scorecard in my pocket on the way out.
I thought this date might be the first of my firsts that didn’t care for a second date. He seemed a little thrown when I told him I was trying to go on 50 first dates, and he made no mention of getting together again when we parted. It turns out I was wrong. He sent a text the next day expressing his interest in spending more time with me, but accepts that I am not interested in “dating”, although he does not understand my logic at all. To be fair, I don’t understand it myself. It seemed like a great idea when I started, but it has turned out to be nothing like I imagined.
The next scheduled date is over a year in the making… Stay tuned.