Date #73 - David

His Age: 51
His City: Several
Setting: Baggage Claim, Oakland Airport

Date #73 has written and published a couple of books, and leads corporate conferences around the world as his full-time job. His topics are around problem solving and efficiency. He's looking for a partner who can go with him on his trips a lot of the time so he has a sense of home. I wonder who would enjoy that?

His primary residence is in another state, but he's moving to the Bay Area, as his ex-wife moved his twin 12-year-old boys out here. They are in the East Bay, but his preference is mountains. Who can say "Mill Valley"?

We've been emailing each other for some time because our travel schedules were off. He arrived in Berkeley just hours after I was heading to Seattle to lead "Celebrating Men & Sex."

My email to him before I retired for my final evening in Seattle was a long one. I shared with him Eloise's death, and how traveling home the following morning would be difficult since that's the time I gear up to get home to her. I also expressed disappointment that we hadn't met, but I looked forward to meeting him whenever he was back in California.

As I left the Seattle hotel, I was fighting back the tears for my longing for Eloise as I got into the limo to go to the airport. My driver was very chatty, and I did my best to be polite, but I'm certain I fell short. I made it through airport security but as I grabbed my window seat on the plane, I was crying. It was a full flight, so I was embarrassed, but that's how it goes. Grieving sucks.

As the plane taxied down in Oakland, I turned my phone on to see I had a message from him. "I'm so very sorry to hear about your dog. I know this is no consolation, and certainly not a replacement, but I've moved my flight to Chicago by a few hours so I could greet you at the airport. I'm in baggage claim waiting for you. Look for me, I'm the tall one." (He's 6'7".)

Oh.... my.... god! How incredibly sweet, and yet, how incredibly horrifying. My eyes were swollen from crying. I had huge bags under them from exhaustion as I do after leading for two days. I called him immediately, "Really? You're here?"

"Yes."

"Okay, there's something you should know. You're seeing me at my worst!" I explained about the crying and tiredness as I made my way to baggage claim. When I arrived, he gave me an enormously strong hug. I really needed that! And as we were waiting for my bag, I watched the way he looked at me -- yes, he liked what he saw. Hooray!!

We grabbed my luggage, threw it in his car, and drove to a nearby Starbucks, where we chatted for about an hour and a half before he had to get moving to get over to San Francisco airport (yes - he wasn't even flying out of the same airport) to get to Chicago.

This man deserves a medal. He's my total hero.

He's back late Saturday so we're spending Sunday together, and I'm showing him the various neighborhoods of the Bay Area. Guess where I'm starting? That's right; the North Bay.

Date #54 - Keeping Up With Mr. Johnson

His Age: 48 (looked 68) (5 years my senior – allegedly – 2010)

His City: Sausalito

Setting: Drinks and dinner, Piazza D’Angelo Ristorante – Mill Valley

“I'm sorry, we'll have take it slow.  I'm injured,” my date said as he hobbled toward me.  All hunched over and moving at a painstakingly slow speed, he'd inadvertently aged himself an additional 10 years at first glance, which put him squarely at age 78.

He beamed at me confidently, completely unaffected by the state of his wardrobe, which made me question his sanity and state of living conditions.  Like, does he actually have a roof over his head at night?

The '70s were awesome, but the light-tan corduroy jacket needed to be retired after the enormous red wine stain across the lapel had set in – as faded as it was, my guess was several years ago.  His t-shirt had lettering on it (I didn't bother to read) and food stains and grease in swirls and patterns from top to bottom.  I tried not to look at his pants.

Since I'm a pretty good sport, and because I was already there, I was going to make the best of it.  And as all good women do, I had the thought, “If he turns out to be fantastic, I'll dress him.”

Our plan was to meet for a drink at the local Italian restaurant in town.  After he chose the table, he asked for a menu.

“Wait, we said drinks only, right?” I asked.

“No, I'm hungry.  You should get something.”

To make a long and boring evening brief and less torturous for you, I'll just say the conversation was tedious.  He offered nothing.  I had to extract information and encourage his participation by throwing out topics for him to consider.  This type of non-participation is commonly demonstrated by men who don’t want to be on a date with you but are not man enough to end it.  With 53 dates under my belt, I’m well familiar with this scenario.  But in this case, this non-participator actually liked me, and that fact alone made it even worse.

As we wrapped up our meal he asked, “Can I tell you how I injured myself?”

Finally, he gave me something interesting to work with.  “Sure!”

“Are you sure?” (My clue.)

“Sure I'm sure.”  I wasn’t sure.

“I was in a motorcycle accident last week.  Something happened in my groin area, and well... all the blood rushed to my johnson.  So I've had an erection since Friday.  It won't go away.  I've been to the hospital, and they are talking about surgery but it’s risky.  I don't want to attempt that for at least one month.  I want to see if it will heal on its own.”  (Fair enough.)

He continued, “The good news about it is I would be a really fun time in the sack right now.  It would be like I was on Viagra – it won't go down, no matter what.”  (Are you fucking kidding me?)

“So this is happening to you right now?” I asked.

“Yes.”

(Pause.) “So then you don't actually know if you're sexually attracted to me or not...” I said in my snarkiest tone.

“Thank you for such a generous offer,” I continued, “but I need to decline.”

The check came to him.  I politely asked, “May I help?”

“Yes, $30, please.”

A quick calculation and a stolen glance at the check revealed that amount was double the cost of what I’d had.

As my friend Alanis says, “You Live, You Learn.”

5 Hot Tips I Offer To You:

#1. Don't talk about your junk (i.e., your johnson) on a first date.

#2. If your date is talking about his junk, excuse yourself, permanently. 

(Unless you want to have sex with him – in which case, listen and learn.)

#3. If you've injured yourself, have any ailments, rashes, breakouts or swollen anything that could cast you in a severe negative light, take the week off from dating.

#4. If you're not hungry, don't order.

#5. If you're not into him, don't stay.