Dating story #34-36, a passionate Latino, a flake, a bailer, and a fixer-upper.

Hello, my pretties!  Miss me?

Sorry for the sabbatical but I was out there collecting more MISadventures for you.  And boy do have a few!

#34- Friday night

We have a new addition to The Line-Up. Ladies and gents, I bring you:

Aka Facebook picker-upper.  Yes, he "friended me" right before X-mas and explained that he saw me in some of my agency's holiday party pics.  This is a GOOD thing, as that was one of those nights where you try to look good and actually succeed. He then noticed that we went to rival high schools in San Antonio, Tx. He also works in the ad biz as a copywriter which is another bonus for me.  So I said maybe we'd meet up after work one day post-holidays for a drink.  And, he did a great job of checking in periodically and keeping tabs on me.  I then realized it would probably be a good idea to do a quick "background" check on him from one of our mutual FB friends. Mainly, in addition to confirming he's not an ax-murderer, I needed to check on his height. Obvs. So, I checked with fab gal pal Dbots who gave the greenlight on height and also added [repeatedly]: "Two words: Soccer. Body."

Also confirmed by many of his pics-- hello, Señor workout-o mucho!

So, we set Friday night as our date and decided to stay in our mutual hood [double-bonus!] the LES.  We then began texting.  After a phone call with a bestie, I randomly posted her wonderful quote on my FB status last week: "Real men call."  The woman-support and feedback was pretty staggering on that one!  Clearly, El Señor stalks my page frequently as he then texted me this: "Real men call. But tactful men know WHEN to call.  I will call you Friday to discuss our date. Until then, we text."  HA!  I'm intrigued by this guy and looking forward to meeting.  He then calls me on Friday afternoon-- I answer the phone and swear Antonio Banderas is speaking back to me.  This causes me to exclaim: "¡You have an acento!"  I was not expecting that. Apparently, he's Mexican.  I have (no offense) never met a tall Mexican man, and I'm from a predominately Hispanical city. The plot thickens.  

mmm...crunchy!

He picks a cool place I've never been [hard to do!], Casa Mezcal.  He's definitely good-looking, in a "slightly aboriginal" way [MIM's words]. Tall? Almost.  Barely pushing 5'11.  But I'm willing to work with it.  And besides, he's taken me to a place that comes with complimentary fried grasshoppers on the bar. 

So, how does El Señor stack up?  Well, we had a really fun time.  He's definitely an interesting hombre.  But something was a little off.  He's got a little of the ever-popular "word vomit" that so many seem to have. You know, no thinky before you talky talky?  Yeah. I'm not really sure what to do with that. What I WILL say is that my new amigo moved in for a beso at our second drink location and it was MUY BUENO! Damn those Latinos and their caliente passion.  This confuses me as I have not kissed a good kisser in a fortnight and so now I can't tell if I like this guy or I just like kissing him.  I suppose time [and a second date] will tell.  Oh, and speaking of time, I got home at 5a that night. Oopsie!

#35- Saturday night

   Our dear old friend, SoCal returned from his vacation and finally decided to text me back. TWENTY-FOUR HOURS after I texted him. Maybe that's normal for some, but every time we've hung out, he is very on top of his phone whenever it blows up. So...yeah. Not cool. Yet every time I start to assume he's not that into it anymore, I'll get a text from him.  And that happened on Thursday.  He asked me "When do I get to see you and hear you sing?" I did some quick thinking and realized I could bring him to BFWB's potluck dinner party saturday night.  And, there will ALWAYS be singing at a BFWB event. So I invited him.  He said "Grrr...I have tentative plans Sat night.  Can I try to get out of them and let you know?"  I obliged, even though I obvi assumed "tentative plans" meant "other date."  See, SoCal is a Match.com guy and inevitably still experiencing the initial allure of People Shopping. Sigh. So on Friday afternoon, still not having heard from him on whether he was in or not, I was forced to inquire.  He wrote back instantly, apologizing for not letting me know sooner ['busy at work'] but he was unable to make it Saturday night.  He did ask when I was leaving for my upcoming LA business trip and how long I'd be gone, so I gave him said information.  No response for days.  But heard from him today, so WTF dude??  We set up a date for Weds night before I leave, where he's about to get a nice dose o' truth from the Linz about being more "consistent" moving fwd if he's interested in continuing to see me.  Grow up, dumb dumb. The Chef is 10 years younger than you and knows the importance of frequent "maintenance." 

   Moving on, The Streak was gchatting me all day and it occurred to me he'd be a super-fun party date.  So he got the sloppy seconds invite.  And, accepted! Yaysies.  I even started to get a bit 'cited because he is really fun and can hang with any group of people.  He did say he couldn't have a late night because of an early morning shoot on Sunday, but I was cool with that. Especially because The Chef was already asking to meet up after he got off of work that night anyway.  So Saturday as I was prepping my deeelish pear and honey sesame dressing with spicy walnuts salad [whoop whoop!], I decided to text The Streak to remind him of time and address.  I instantly got a text back: "Ah, shit. I am totally broken and not going to make it back into the city tonight. Sorry to bail like this. Early call tomorrow, going to hide out. Play soon?"

Yeah. Soon my ass. UGH.  It's like I'm dating the 7 demented dwarves, featuring:

Flaky.

Bail-y.

and

No Filter-y.

Alas, the evening was a huge bowl o' fun, no mens necessary!  Truly an enchanted evening at BFWB's, and as our jam session was in full swing, something propelled BFWB to run into his room and return with this:

That's right, ladies. A flute.

I have never been so entertained.  And, The Chef decided to make a late-night appearance and was a nice compliment to the evening.  I no longer fear he things I'm his gf, and I'm just enjoying when we hang out because it is usually really fun.  He just has soooo much to learn and I have soooo little desire to teach. But some advice I can give The Chef: Cook for me, bitch, and I'll probably stick around longer. {Oh dear god, am I a dude?}

#36- Sunday night

And now we finally arrive at the end of our weekend, which culminated in a date with Almost Doc.  It was supposed to be a football-watching date, but he also bailed on that [seriously?] and asked if we could do dinner instead.  I obliged and he took me to sushi.  In Almost Doc's favor:

-He actually CALLS me. Frequently. [perhaps too frequently?]

-He has taken me on an actual dinner date, TWICE.

-He showers me in compliments and may be prematurely in love with me.

Okay, that last part was not in his favor. But I think [fear?] he really likes me. Like, a LOT.  Why am I not jumping for future doctor's wife joy here?  Meh.

This one needs SO much training, I just can't wrap my head around it.  

-Constantly saying inappropriate things.  

-Rushing things with me like he's trying to get down the aisle.  

-Prematurely calling me "baby." 

-Used words "make love" the other night. [Vomit. In. Mouth. x 1000]

-Asked me if I was on the pill and followed it up by asking how many days I "shed" for.  

Here is the place where some people in the medical profession have lost total track of the line between right and oh-so-wrong.

Soooo.....yeeeeeah.  I don't know what to do. With ANY of them really.  I am very glad this business trip is coming up, merely so I can let some of these situations fizzle like an Alka-Seltzer on a bad hangover day.

Stay tuned for:  

-an updated Line-up Flowchart

-a full report on Weds night's upcoming SoCal date

-Lindsey running away to join a convent and/or trying my hand at lesbianism, as it is surely easier and closer than nunnery.