Goldilocks in Jdate-land

My dad says I'm too picky about boys. But maybe he's right. Lately, I've been on a few Jdates that actually went beyond the first date. Yet somehow, I've found something wrong enough with each of them to warrant terminating the relationship. I feel a little like Goldilocks looking for her perfect bowl of porridge.

First, there was the Canadian. He has good taste in music. He is nice. Really, really nice. Too nice. And incredibly, annoyingly indecisive. It began to grate on my nerves, rendering all other emotions towards him impossible. Dreams of dual-citizenship evaporated.

Next, there was the Metrosexual. He was also nice, and fun, and very chivalrous. We had a good time together. But I found myself wondering whether or not I could date someone who dressed so much better than me. And he has a cat. And he snores. (Don't ask).

And now, there is...hmm, I'm not sure what to call him yet. Intense? Clumsy? Folks, the jury is still deliberating on this one, and it's a close call. He is precariously straddling the fine line between endearing and "ugh". Let's recap. 1st date: Decisively set a time and place. (Big points for that; see "The Indecisive Canadian"). Shared margaritas and a habanero pepper. Boy likes spicy food. BIG points for that. A bit exuberant in his mannerisms, which could either balance quite nicely with my cool, calm and collected demeanor, or just not mesh at all. An odd but not unreasonable problem with his glasses--ran out of contacts, "cool" glasses are broken, so spends the night not wearing his "uncool" glasses. Hmmm. If you're that embarrassed, go out and fix yer damn problem. But I digress. A short walk home, a peck on the cheek, a request for a 2nd date. All good.

And then there was date #2. Again, sets time and place, and even picks me up, African daisy in hand. Sweet, albeit unusual. A bit of a character, this one. I've dated characters before. And it's not always pretty. But the best was yet to come. He tells me that his allergies have been acting up, so he's all looped up on Dayquil. Coincidentally, I had the beginnings of the cold, so I had also taken some Dayquil. I knew how he felt--not wanting to postpone the date, but not wanting to be a sneezy, runny, goopy mess, either. And the glasses problem has still not been solved, a week later. At this point, there are very minor feelings of uneasiness in my head, but no alarm bells are ringing.

It's during dinner that things really take a turn. A bottle of wine? Um, sure (thinking to myself, if I drink half a bottle of wine, I'll surely embarrass myself). Boy talks with his hands. Exuberantly, remember? One glass of water goes down. Then a glass of wine hits the deck. I'm still trying to think endearing thoughts when he gets up to use the bathroom and nearly takes the whole damn table with him. I sheepishly look around, thinking I can easily get out of this one, as it's only a second date. But of course in my mind I'm always thinking to the future. Is THIS what's in my future? Years of "I know, folks, he's a complete mess, but he's my mess." UGH.

My favorite part was when I returned from the ladies' room to find him chatting with the couple at the table next to us. Uh-oh, what now? It turns out that they generously offered some advice while I was gone: 1) Stop talking about your damn allergies. 2) Stop talking so much, period. And the kicker: 3) We don't think it's going very well, you're going to have to ratch it up a notch if you want to keep this one.

But isn't the fact that he shared all that with me pretty endearing? Isn't his nervousness kind of cute? And isn't the fact that he said, multiple times, "There's just something about you, Hap. I've been looking forward to this date all week," reason enough for a third date? Yep. I'm either a glutton for punishment, or very very optimistic.