An Upper Valley Date: He Said, She Said

A few weeks ago I met a girl. I'm not very interested in dating anybody, but she claimed to want to write a "cookbook" and wanted to "try some recipes" out on me. Any guy would certainly accept an offer for free food, so I obliged. I go over to this girl's house. She's got a nice place, fancy paintings, 150lb Great Dane, 10,000 songs on her computer (this will be relevant in a minute).

She knows I was recently dating a girl that I really liked and that I'm not interested in anything other than free food, or so I thought. She also claimed to have recently broken up with a "guy" that lives in Boston, 4 months ago or something like that. So, as it turns out she's made a four course extravaganza. There's some cheese and cracker thing; a king crab leg appetizer with some homemade sauce; a salad with caramelized almonds (I've been told this is one step from marriage if someone caramelizes something for you); and a salmon dish with figs and tomatoes and other twigs and berries.

It becomes readily apparent shortly after the cheese and somewhere around sip of wine #2 that she doesn't understand the boundaries associated with "I am here for the free food." She's also running through the stop sign I have erected that says "I don't like people to touch me or share my food or act generally creepy." She's touching my arm, my hand, my leg, my back -- not my Johnson, sorry. It was sort of like "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes."  She'd go from one to the other with increasing speed and frequency. Totally freaky.

When she wasn't sitting next to me, ie: when she was cooking, she was spewing all of this BS at me about "Oh I really want to be your friend," and "before anything physical happens with someone I make that person my best friend." Blah, blah, blah.  After 30 minutes of this I decided that DJ'ing would be a better use of my time, while awaiting the salmon main course.  Luckily she had a gargantuan library of tunes to choose from, and I could've spent the next week sifting through her collection. At some point I think she noticed I was missing and she sent a search party for me -- the great dane -- and managed to drag me away from her Apple long enough to let me eat the main course and try and avoid the latest round of groping.

So, we finish eating and she's about to make some espresso. All of a sudden I am overcome with the desire to take a nap. Food, wine, skiing earlier, scary girl making you dinner. All soporific stuff. In addition, I'm at the tail end of this cold that involves coughing for 3 weeks, especially at night and have been spewing and hacking for the past half an hour as well. So, I politely excuse myself to the couch (which was awesome) and lie down for a minute . . . .

Thirty minutes later I am awakened by one Great Dane licking my face.  Without moving I ask if I have been asleep long. I am informed that half an hour has passed since I was last awake. As soon as I wake up I start coughing as well. The hostess takes this opportunity to bring me an espresso.  She then decides that this is a good opportunity to "snuggle" with her dinner date.

I shit you not, she tries to lie down on the couch next to me and spoon me, though I'm not exactly sure how you spoon someone who is lying on his back.  I instantly have this paroxysm of coughing that likely cracked three ribs  and was heard in the surrounding 4 counties, and excuse myself to get some  water. She then accuses me of faking this cough -- seriously, who fakes a cough, this isn't an orgasm people.

There is a 7-10 minute period of exchanging niceties -- wow, what nice plates you have; whoa that's a huge dog; good job on the mashed; nice collection of illegally downloaded music. You get the idea.

I leave and 30 minutes later get a phone call. She goes into this, "you had a bad time, blah blah blah." I convince here I was just really tired and fall asleep in social situations often -- this is the truth.

The next day I go over to a friend's house to look at his awesome new 53 inch TV -- awesome. As it turns out he rents out the top floor of his condo to some guy, and as it turns out the guy dated her not so long ago. The "ex-BF from Boston" is truly a figment of the her vivid imagination, similar to the thought that I like to be touched and like crazy chicks.

The following day I received additional confirmation that this girl is in fact crazy as a loon from a reliable med student that has reliable info that she is insane.

A few weeks ago I met a guy who is doing his residency over at Dartmouth-Hitchcock. I'm not really looking to date anyone else new (I broke up with a guy in Boston a few months ago, and I've been going on some casual dates with a few people in Hanover), but this new guy's boss keeps wanting to set us up. Apparently he just broke up with his girlfriend too and has recently re-entered the dating scene. Plus I'm wanting to write a cookbook (as a small-business owner, I have an entrepreneurial drive, and, if I may say so, I'm a damn good cook) and therefore am always looking for a good guinea pig to try my food. So, I asked the new guy if he wanted to come over on Friday and have dinner.

I make this amazing meal: a local artisinal cheese board, king crab leg with homemade remoulade, a salad of winter greens, roasted beets, chevre and caramelized almonds and a champagne vinaigrette, and an entrée of braised Mediterranean salmon with figs, tomatoes and a bunch of other ingredients that Neanderthal boy (this will be apparent soon) couldn't even pronounce, much less prepare. I sense he's barely capable of microwaving.

Anyway, shortly after I serve the cheese plate, it becomes readily apparent
that I shouldn't have wasted the paired wine on this guy. He keeps going on
and on about the "Stream Team" blah, blah, blah and throwing out phrases like "that's how I roll." He's also a total touch-phobe, to the point of where I touch his arm as I tell him we can go into the dining room (as I would with my friend, my mom, anyone), he noticeably cringes. After awhile, I start making a point of briefly touching his arm or back as I'm talking just to watch him freak out.

I tried to put out the signal that I wasn't interested in sleeping with him by mentioning that I generally like to be friends with someone before I move into any more of a relationship (not a bad policy, if you ask me). I'm pretty sure he doesn't get the message because part way through the meal he sneaks off into my house to prowl through my music collection. He's gone so long, I'm beginning to suspect he's playing with himself over all the excitement of being in a "real" apartment. I finally send out Blue, my Great Dane (who at 150 lbs. is turning out to be more of a man then the new guy), to retrieve the new guy for the main course. After I have prepared this awesome meal, he can barely be dragged away from my music collection and can't for the life of himself manage to ask if I could use a hand with anything, offer to pour wine, bring food to the table, etc.

I soldier-on through the meal making my best attempts to follow his self-centered conversation. I excuse myself as soon as its reasonably polite to go make espresso. This night could use some caffeine, or maybe a narcotic, whatever. I go to serve the coffee and find he's completely made himself completely comfortable by sprawling on my new couch and falling completely asleep . . . for 30 minutes! Are you kidding me!? I give him the espresso, which the uncultured fool can barely swallow. You would have thought I had peed in it.  Don't know why I didn't. 

The evening has been an utter waste thus far, but I try to remember that my friend set us up and I have no reason to believe she did so because she has it out for me. This guy can't possibly be as much of a weirdo as he seems. He remains completely sprawled out on the couch on his back, when I decide to make a last-ditch attempt to save the date. I crawl on the couch next to him. He awkwardly fails to scrunch over so there's room for us and I end up trying to lay there with him on his back until he starts this completely fake cough attack. Must be too much touching for him again. A mild form of autism do you think? He hangs around for a few painful minutes having inane conversation before I can get him to leave.

We live in a small town and have mutual friends, so after such a weird night I decide to give him a quick call to clear the air. He claims he didn't have a bad time, he just falls asleep in public all the time. He's either narcoleptic or a complete freak. I suspect the later. Later that day, I find out he's been going out on all these dates with women (although claiming to be totally broken up about the one he supposedly dated recently). One of the women he went on a ski date with states that he's virtually stalking his ex and confirms that he's a total whack-job. The "so-called" relationship with his ex is likely a figment of his vivid imagination; I can't see anyone actually dating this guy.

The following day I received additional confirmation that this guy is in fact crazy as a loon from a reliable client that has reliable info that he is insane.