This is probably going to be the coolest thing I’ll ever say about my dating life ever: I went on a date with a rocket scientist! Yes! That’s right! Not only did someone who is employed and speaks full sentences ask me on a date, but he’s a fucking rocket scientist. ROCKET SCIENTIST.
Let’s just take a moment to let that sink in.
|Okay, so technically he's an "aerospace engineer" but I looked it up, and that basically means rocket science. Seriously, Wikipedia says so: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aerospace_engineering|
I met him online (obviously) and he lives in Jupiter which is about an hour and a half away (which helps to explain how he’s employed and smart). When he first sent me a message he asked me about my views on physician assisted suicide and asked me if I wanted to go to a hockey game sometime. Think what you want about me, but any guy who wants to have an intelligent conversation with me about physician assisted suicide certainly has my attention. Actually, the fact that he could correctly spell physician caught my attention.
So we talked a little bit about PAS and its disproportionate impact on people with disabilities and I was just elated to have a conversation that didn’t involve talking about deep topics such as how much a guy can bench press or his favorite sports car or “YOLO.”
He asked me to a Panthers game and since I’m always down for a good hockey game, I said yes. We met at the stadium and right off the bat he was genuinely a nice guy. As we were going into the stadium he gives me this panicked look and said “I didn’t even think to get accessible tickets! I knew you use a wheelchair, I should have thought about it!”
Yes, the rocket scientist didn’t think to get seats where I could actually sit. So for all of you out there using the phrase “you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to…” please note that rocket scientists aren’t perfect either.
I laughed and assured him that we could just go into a wheelchair accessible section near our seats and ask if there were any open seats that we could sit it. This helped to clear the deer in the headlights look off his face.
As luck would have it, the ushers were super nice and gladly let us sit in some open seats in an accessible area right near the seats he had gotten for us. I was pretty excited because I’d never sat so close at a professional hockey game before. The best part? Our seats were also in the section where the cheerleaders danced and stuff, so the whole night I had really nice cheerleaders behind me.
Pretty good date so far, right?
Then it happened. I was talking to the Rocket Scientist about the Sabres and the Bills and Ralph Wilson (RIP) when the 50-60 year old guy next to me interrupts and says, “You talking about Buffalo sports? My friend Mike here is from Buffalo and is down for the weekend!” and points to the guy next to him who is equally as old.
Suddenly, Mike and I are talking about NY and all that good stuff and he shared his bag of peanuts with me. After a few minutes I think our conversation is over and I go back to talking to my date, but Mike isn’t having any of that. Suddenly he’s telling me about the time he wanted to go on a date with a girl and they agreed for their first date he’d go to her house and bring a pizza and they’d watch a movie. When he got to the girl’s house, she opened the door, saw how large he is, grabbed the pizza, said “you’re not my type,” and slammed the door.
Cool story Mike.
Then Mike tells me his favorite pick up lines while handing me more peanuts. (“Do you know the basic difference between sex and conversation?” “No.” “Wanna come back to my place then?”)
Awesome Mike, it’s been fun chatting, but I’m kind of on a date here.
Then, after we ran out of peanuts, Mike tells me that he went to school in Miami and that’s how he met Clyde, his friend that heard me talking about Buffalo sports and started this whole fiasco. Thanks Clyde.
For the most part Clyde sat quietly watching the Pathers get spanked and only added in a few comments every now and then. Mike, however, moved his chair so he could sit directly behind (and eventually BETWEEN) me and the Rocket Scientist.
|Kinda like this, except we were sitting at a hockey game, not walking on the beach, and I'm not J-Lo.|
Umm. Welcome to our date Mike. Nice to have you join us?
While I’m trying to be nice and have a conversation with all of the guys now that my date with the smartest guy I’ve met down here has turned into a party, my poor date probably got about 10 words in the entire night.
When the game ended, the Rocket Scientist walked me back to my car and said “We didn’t really get to talk much tonight. I think we should go on another date except without Clyde and Mike next time.”
I agreed and we ended up just talking and joking outside my car for an hour. An hour later, when I went to get in my car, we were joking about something, and I turned around to go to my car door and told him to “suck it” and as I said that he literally ran around me to open my car door for me.
“Oh my God. Here I am telling you to suck it as you rush to open my door. I’m such a douche” I told him.
“Yeah, you are,” he said, “but I’d like to take you out again anyway.”
Smart and funny? Yes, you can take me out again, sir!
We decided we’d get ice cream on Sunday.
By the time I got home an hour later I had a new Facebook friend request. Who was it? Clyde! The quiet older guy with Date Crasher Mike. I thought he was just a nice older guy who wanted a new Facebook friend, so I accepted.
Five minutes later, I got THIS surprise:
UMM. WHAT?! WHOA.
This guy barely talked to me and now he wants to take me out? I’m sorry, but you could be my grandpa. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.
And he didn’t give up there!
The next day I didn’t respond, so then he wrote on my wall “Did you get my message?”
Whoa buddy. Take a hint!
So I tell the Rocket Scientist about Clyde and he gets a good laugh out of it. I felt bad because I didn’t want to hurt Old Man Clyde’s feelings with my brutal honesty, so the Rocket Scientist suggested I be “honest” with him.
|"Id say go about it honest.. say "im sorry but i was on a date with the guy that was with me.. Hes really awesome and i hope to see him again."|
Smooth Rocket Man. Smooth. I like your confidence. I also like your suggestion.
So I used it and Clyde was understanding, but told me I “know how to reach” him “if things change.”
Umm. Please take a hint! How do old men not realize that they’re creepy?!?!
As for the Rocket Scientist, when I suggested we postpone our ice cream date until mid-April because I really want to go to a Marlin’s game when they play the Nationals (yes, I’m a Nats fan. Judge me) and we technically could get ice cream at the game, I learned that all the Rocket Scientist really wants to do is take me on another date without Mike.
So tonight he's taking me to Latin Burger where they serve burgers AND burritos. It's like he wants me to marry him or something.
Smart guy asked me to a hockey game. We got to talk for approximately ten minutes before an old, loud talkative guy and his quiet friend took over our date. I was accidentally a douche when I was getting in my car and while my date agreed that I’m a douche, he wants to take me on another date anyway, except without the old men who took over our date. However, the quiet old man would rather just date me himself.
1. Sometimes it’s the nice, silent guy that’s the creeper.
2. Panthers suck at playing hockey.
3. Rocket scientists are real – they’re not just fictional professionals that we compare stupid people to.