Mr. Pathological

I was beginning to wonder… He’d been in the bathroom for almost fifteen minutes when I heard the text message signal from my phone ring in my purse. “I forgot my wallet. Going to my car. I’m so embarrassed.” I sipped my iced tea… I waited… Then I heard it again. “Not coming back. Sorry.”…

Mr. Pathological is the quintessential example of a fellow who seemed nice! In fact, because this date occurred after I had begun this blog, I would like to state for God, the Universe and the record that I did not begin this blog as a challenge. I am not looking for more terrible dates to post here. I am looking to lessen the sting of really awkward moments by allowing them to make other people laugh.

Mr. Pathological seemed really, really nice. He had a nice profile. He stated he’s happy, energetic, honest and looking for the same. He had nice pictures of himself with his mom and his nephews. He sent nice emails. He asked about my day, my family, my job. When he asked if I’d like to meet, I said absolutely. I told him I had a haircut at 12:30. He suggested coffee at 1:30.

Mr. P: I’ll have to tell you what I’m wearing cause I look nothing like my pictures.

Me: [Thinking: He’s probably joking.] Ha! Me neither… I’m kidding. I look exactly like my pictures.

Mr. P: I don’t. I hope that’s not a problem.

Me: [Yipes!] Are you teasing? It’s hard to tell on text…

Mr. P: Yes.

Me: Ha! Oh good.

Mr. P: I can take a selfie if you don’t believe me.

Me: It’s okay. I remember your photos from the site. The ones of your mom and you are really cute.

Mr. P: She lives with me.

Me: [Whoa. That’s out of left field.] Oh. Does she like living in Dallas?

Mr. P: I don’t let her out of the basement.

Me: [Weird sense of humor, just go with it.] You’re horrible. Unchain your poor mother!

Mr. P: The chains are velvet lined.

Me: [Awkward! Just change the subject…] I’m almost done here. I’ll leave soon.

Mr. P: Let’s meet at Changs.

Me: Changs?

Mr. P: In the mall.

Me: Oh! P.F. Changs. Okay. [For coffee? Whatever, guess I could eat.]

We met and he looked mostly like his pictures, which was a relief, but he was clearly uncomfortable, very nervous and twitchy. He gave me a sideways hug and said, “Nice haircut,” in a strangely sarcastic tone of voice.

We sat down at a table by the window. The waitress brought us waters and asked if we’d like anything else. I ordered iced tea. Mr. Pathological said nothing to her, just stared at me and blinked a lot. I waited and smiled. (That’s what I do when I’m uncomfortable, I just smile and smile away. The more uncomfortable I get, the bigger the smile. Seriously, you should see me. Last week my dog wouldn’t stop sniffing a guy’s crotch at the dog park. I was like the Cheshire cat.)

Mr. P: So your family lives here?

Me: Yes. I’m really lucky to have them so near. I spend a lot of time with them. It’s nice that you have your mom so near too. Does she really live with you?

Mr. P: I actually live with her. [Of course he does…] It’s kind of embarrassing. We have a two story house in Avondale. I’m on the top floor and she’s on the bottom. She cooks for me.

Me: [Maybe there’s a story there… Give him the benefit of the doubt.] Well, that sounds like a pretty nice set up.

Mr. P: Actually she lives in Detroit. [What??]

Me: But you just said…

Mr. P: Nah. She and my brother live in Detroit.

Me: Um… Okay. So, why don’t you tell me more about what you do.

Mr. P: I’m in sales for a beverage company. I sell equipment.

Me: Oh, do you like being in sales?

Mr. P: I’m not in sales. [What??]

Me: But you just said…

Mr. P: I manage people in the sales department.

Me: Um… Okay. Do you like what you do?

Mr. P: Yeah. It’s fine. Do you have any pets?[Pets. Yes, let’s talk pets. That’s usually safe date conversation territory.] 

Me: Yes, I’ve got a dog named Laurel. She’s a sweetie. I had a cat named Hardy but he died recently. What about you?

Mr. P: Yeah, I have a cat. I’ve been looking for a home for him. He got abandoned at the vet so I rescued him.

Me: That’s a really sweet thing to do. How long have you had him?

Mr. P: Two years.

Me: Two years is a long time to look for a home for him. I think maybe he’s yours now.

Mr. P: I’ve had him thirteen years. [What???]

Me: But you just said…

Mr. P: How did Hardy die? Did you just come home and find him dead?

Me: No!

Mr. P: Cause I think about it a lot. What will I do when I come home and find my cat dead? Throw him in the creek? I mean what do you do with a dead cat? Throw it in the trash? [What?!?!?]

I looked at my hands. I didn’t know what to say or how to salvage this date as it quickly went down in flames. I was so disappointed. I had really been fooled by his profile. I thought he was going to be someone I could really relate to and spend time with. Instead, he was twitchy, abrupt, rude and kept lying to me.

Mr. P: I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.

Me: Okay.

I waited… and thought about how to politely end the date quickly. Family emergency? Sudden menstrual cramps? I kept waiting and sipped my iced tea. The waitress brought the appetizer I had ordered to help her out because Mr. Pathological invited me to a Chinese restaurant “for coffee” and then ordered nothing – no drink, no food.

I was beginning to wonder… He’d been in the bathroom for almost fifteen minutes when I heard the text message signal from my phone in my purse.

Mr. P: I forgot my wallet. Going to my car. I’m so embarrassed.

I sipped my iced tea. I waited. Then I heard it again.

Mr. P: Not coming back. Sorry.

Me: What?! Is this one of those times you’re joking and I don’t get it?

Mr. P: Not joking. Sorry.

I was mortified. He (weirdo compulsive liar) was abandoning me? The brightness of my toothy smile shining across the restaurant brought the waitress to my side.

Me: Hello. May I please get the check?

Waitress: Yes, of course. Is your friend okay?

Me: No. No, he isn’t. [Unfortunately, he’s a psychopath who may or may not keep his relatives chained in his basement and decided that I wasn’t worthy of making it through this date. Is there arsenic in this appetizer by chance?]