I have been complaining—loudly—at my desk at work about the type of guy I want. Date #6 fit all the items I listed, no matter how fantastical I became. He's an SEC college graduate - check. He still has the frat-boy look about him: North Face, Croakies, etc. - check. Looks good in glasses - check. Has a dimple when he smiles - check. Taller than me - check.
A gentleman - check check. Stays in regular contact - check check. Has a stable career - check check. Doesn't have a roommate - check check.
Likes me - check check check.
So what could be the problem with someone who has so many pros? There's a con:
He's four years younger than me.
I am trying to be open-minded about this. I am. He interviewed and accepted his corporate job before he graduated from college. He seems to be at the same place as me.
But he sits across the table from me and he seems so eager and optimistic and bubbly, and I just think about how I could tear this person apart. I could destroy the good, wholesome part of him. Doesn't he know who I am? Doesn't he know what I have been through since I was 25? I have lived and experienced things that no one should have. The good, wholesome part of me is dead. Someone else took it. Just like what I could do to him.
I never before realized the similarities between a zombie and someone who's had her heart broken. We're all a little dead on the inside. We're afraid of being capable of contaminating others. We seek out others with similar souls.
I know I can't be with someone who hasn't had his heart broken. All the times I have loved in good faith and lost have come to define me. At happy hour a couple of weeks ago, I asked Schmoozer if he has ever had his heart broken.
"No," he grinned. "I always leave them."
I pressed my lips together. "Nope. I could never date you."
"Because I don't trust someone who hasn't had his heart broken."
It's true. And Date #6 chirps like someone who hasn't been crushed. Maybe that's why I was attracted to the coarseness of The Hungarian. He was dark, and I liked that I was the optimistic one. I like being the good one.
"I feel like I could corrupt you," I said to Date #6 as I took a swig of my beer.
He tried to smile devilishly, but failed at it. "Trust me, you can't corrupt me." He sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. "Age is just a number to me. I usually hang out with people who are older because I act older than I am. But if my age bothers you, I'd rather know now and not later."
Damn, that was a mature thing to say.
So I did the only thing I could think of; I threw him to the wolves to see if he could hold his own. I invited him out drinking at Monday Night Football with my group of friends. And then I told my friends that this was a test.
Government Mule looked at me, "You know I am going to give him a hard time."
"Good. Let's see what he's made of." Government Mule has been engaged twice; I trust him.
Government Mule told Date #6 that we knew each other because we were prom dates from high school. I corrected GM. The girls were nice to him, but GM bristled at him. There were eye daggers, the bird made an appearance (I can't remember on whose side) and there were some good-natured swearing. It reads worse than it was; smiles were being traded concomitantly. Date #6 took it in stride, but I got a little worried over GM's behavior.
Date #6 was able to hold his own.
So I went out with Date #6 again last night. And I'm still just as unsure of him.
Doesn't he know who I am?
I am a zombie.