yet another coffee date. i know. boring. but it was a blind one, with an architect met through online dating. we’d exchanged emails and then spoken on the phone, and had a few things in common. mainly travel, art, and movies.

starbucks had become my meeting place of choice, because it was close by and i felt comfortable there. and he claimed to be a coffee expert, so he wanted to go there. in retrospect, i am sure there were better places to choose for coffee, than starbucks, but whatever.

this date was early on in my online dating experiences, and so i spent a great deal of time (wasted) worrying about what to where, etc. i am sure i was wearing jeans and some sort of black top. semi-low cut but not too revealing. not too much make-up, but enough to cover the bags under my eyes.

i was excited about H. excited to be meeting a single professional man with no kids, who wasn’t too much older than me, and had an interesting job and life. so it seemed. he liked to race cars, and had been all over the world. lots to talk about. most of the men i’d met so far had been rather boring, and not very well read or worldly. of course i learned these things mean nothing in the grander scheme, but hey, i was hoping for connection.

it was early evening, and i was a minute or two late. i drove up in my car, checked my hair and make up one last time and got out. i never like to be the first one there, standing around awkwardly, wondering who the “date” might be. this time i walked in and recognized the heavier-than-his-photo and gray-hair-not-brown-like-his-profile-indicated man sitting against one wall, to be H. i walked over to him and smiled and said “H?”

he barely looked up at me, his head down, and his nose in his hand. he nodded that he was indeed H. i was confused. he didn’t attempt to stand or to shake my hand. and then i realized that he was covering his nose for a reason.

he had a bloody nose. he refused to look at me, and muttered about how he’d shaved before coming to meet me and he’d nicked the bottom of his nostril and it wouldn’t stop bleeding.

he looked so ridiculous. i didn’t know what to do, so i said i was going over to get a cup of coffee and i’d be back. he just sat there against the wall, nose in hand and head down. i ordered my usual grande cafe mocha and eventually returned.

he was STILL holding his nose. it continued to bleed. he picked at it incessantly as i sat and tried to make normal conversation. but all i could see was that nose.

i actually felt a bit sorry for him. finally, because he wouldn’t stop picking at it and wouldn’t stop looking down, i told him to stop touching it because it was making it worse and then i suggested he go to the bathroom until it stopped bleeding.

he dutifully got up and went to the bathroom.

eventually he returned. he was clearly mortified and i even suggested we leave and try again another night. but he didn’t want to do that. we did drink our coffee and his nose stopped bleeding. it made a great story to tell my girlfriends later that night when i got home.

i don’t remember much else about that date. and yes, i did go out with him again. four more times.

the last time i saw him? we had a cozy fire burning in his carriage house, he wanted to watch a movie. he selected from his vast library of serial killer DVDs (i’m not joking here) and settled on Silence of the Lambs, the original version. he asked me if i wanted some coffee. of course i said i did. he set it down in front of me, and i almost vomited when i tasted it. i felt like i would be rude to vomit so i asked for some more sugar. he brought me the canister. i poured 2 more tablespoons in my cup to cover the horrible taste of the coffee he’d served me.

turns out the sugar canister was actually a SALT canister. with the extra spoonfuls, i really did gag and had to run to the bathroom, yelling out “It’s SALT! It’s SALT! You put salt in my coffee!”

somebody was getting their face eaten on the TV screen while i was in the bathroom crying and laughing and gagging.

H stood outside the door, audibly worried and upset, asking me if i was okay, over and over. i just told him to go away.

of course, that was the last time i saw him.

matching first and last dates. disaster

(i’m telling this story as per this post here)