Why you don’t want to date me…

1) Well first off I’m married, and that can get complicated; and my husband has a black belt in a particular branch of martial arts, which I can’t spell tonight. So it would be a surprise attack.

2) I used to sing a song about my grandmother’s boobs when I was younger. I taught the song to my younger cousin. We would stuff our shirts with socks, cup our hands over our chest, and sing together: “Grandma’s little boobies go boom, boom, boom, boom. Grandma’s little boobies go boom, boom, boom!” It was a favorite party song. I choreographed the whole thing. On the first line our hands would shoot out in front of us. On the second stanza, we’d drop our hands down with each boom, until they almost touched the floor. Grandma’s boobs weren’t little, still aren’t. Don’t know why I called them little to begin with. But sometimes I still sing the song. Only now I’m crying in the mirror. (Don’t ask me how this is related to dating. It just is. Boobs are always related to dating.)

3) I get super excited. Just ask anyone who has ever taken a walk with me. I like to process when I walk. I like to process even more when I am first getting to know someone. I always apologize for my rambling. And I always get the same half-smile and bewildered eyes, in response. People usually say, “It’s alright.” But I secretly want them to tell me they really enjoyed all my insights. That has yet to happen.

4) I am a very picky eater and will stress over where to go out to eat. Then when I finally decide where I want to eat, I will take forever to decide between the three things on the menu that I might like. I discuss the pros and cons of each particular appetizer. I analyze the menu and point out to the waitress misprints and errors. I question the authenticity of the food description. I try to remember is it farm raised salmon that’s better or wild. I interrupt patrons to ask what they have ordered, and if it is indeed any good. I will taste your food from your plate without asking, especially mashed potatoes. I try to help people. Once I interrupted a couple and said: “Based on your conversation, it sounds like your grandson might have Aspergers.” No worries, I introduced myself first. The grandpa wasn’t too thrilled. I heard him say: “Boy, that lady has got some big ears on her!” I didn’t take it personally because my ears weren’t showing.

5) I will ask you many questions, such as: Is there anything in my teeth? Do I look bloated? How much do you think this would cost to make at home? Do you like the food? Are you full? Did you get enough to eat? Do you want dessert? Do you know soda is bad for you? Are you having a second soda? How are you going to work off all that soda? Are the refills free? Did you leave enough for the tip? How much? Are you sure? What do you think of the waiter’s personality? Would you hire him? Can I have the rest of your potatoes? Want to guess what color I’m thinking of? Will you guess the number? Did you have a good time? Do you like me? Do you think I’m pretty? Why?

6) As a former teacher and mother of three energetic boys, I am programmed to play games for survival. While we are waiting for our food, I will likely engage you in a game of hangman, connect the dots, I-Spy, and guess the animal I’m thinking. Electronics are not allowed at the table, as I require your full attention. And it is important to follow all my rules. And don’t even try watching television. Before we sit down in a sport’s bar, I will make certain there are no televisions in your line of vision, as to not take away from our time together. Of course, I would question why you were taking me to a cheap sport’s bar to begin with.

7) I am not a meat eater, and haven’t been since 1984 (the year I was born). So, if you ask me to help you cut your meat, especially ribs, I will try to use a butter knife and the ribs will fly across the table and plop on the floor and people will stare. But you will likely cut your own ribs, and I will give a look of disgust and tell you that I hate meat breath. Then I might, depending on my mood, remind you of one of the many documentaries I have viewed. I might even write the name down for you on a napkin. I will then eat your mashed potatoes when you are not looking.

8) I will compliment you. I will tell you have nice eyes or a nice smile, and mean it. I will likely compliment the restaurant staff, as well. Then I will stare at parts of your body that don’t look perfectly to scale. I will point out the facial hair that needs to be shaved, the rouge eyebrow hair, the freckle that looks questionable, the blemish, the grey hair, the wrinkled shirt, the old shoes, the nostril hair, and whatever else catches my attention. Unless you are a stone statue perfectly carved, I will find something to wonder about. I will obsess that perhaps you have a terrible disease or are allergic to something, and that is why there is a pimple on your neck. I will point out the bug bites on your arm. I will try to memorize your face, close my eyes and reopen them, and see if I can remember your hairline and freckles. Most of this I will do in my head and not say aloud. So I will be sitting there preoccupied, with a weird expression on my face, and one eyebrow raised high, and not listening to a word you are saying.

9) I will have to guess the amount on the bill. I will say, “Wait, wait, wait, let me guess!” Then I will calculate everything we consumed and add the totals up in my head, including tax. Then I will proclaim my guess. If I am within a dollar, I will smile so proudly. If I am wrong, I will go back and justify my answer, figuring out something I forgot, like the price of your soda. I will blame you for my error. Then I will lean over your shoulder to make sure you leave a twenty percent tip or higher; unless the service was terrible, then I will insist you leave fifteen percent exactly. If the waiter is exceptional, I will ask to speak to the manager about the wonderful service. I will tell the waiter first how great he is. And ask you to agree and nod. Then I will double-check the tip. I will still be worrying about the tip by the time we reach the car, and ask you to verify we calculated correctly. I will then ask if you remembered the boxed leftovers on the table, and ask you to go back and get them. I will complain if you have to use the bathroom, as I am tired, and want to go home.

10) You will be in shock, because on the first and second date, I was on my best behavior.