The male side of the dating game isn’t so pretty, either
I was barraged with phone calls, telegraphs, e-mails, faxes, personal visits and notes tied to rocks and tossed through the window after I wrote about my friend “Shirley” and her difficulties in getting a date, much less a boyfriend, in Summit County.
There is, it was made very clear, another side of this story. And it’s just as ugly.
According to a man I’ll call … “Tony,” there are decent men in this county. And they’re not all in advanced automotive, lift maintenance or blacksmithing classes.
Some of them still are found in bars. No, wait! That’s not what Tony said.
Tony has yet to find his soulmate, but it’s not for a lack of trying. He enrolled in a pottery class he assumed would be filled with women. He churned out several nice ashtrays.
He started attending church, but hitting on women with the minister standing nearby left him feeling a mite uncomfortable. He hung out in the library, but the homeless people glared at him as if he were trying to take over their turf.
Then he tried the Internet dating thing.
He met three women who think Jerry Garcia is still alive, somewhere. Four were tattooed and pierced in so many places they looked “like they jumped over the barbed wire fence to a paint factory,” he said. Some said they were looking for “Daddy.”
So he adjusted his Internet profile to reflect his age more accurately, and the only women who wrote him back were psychotic or married. Or both.
I asked my friend – I’ll call him … “Dan” – how he meets women.
“Dude, what, dude?” Dan said. “Women? If I were a Native American, my name would be Dances With Himself. Dude.”
Dan is a nice guy. He’s funny, he has a real job and he has all his original teeth and most of his original hair. He’s cute – and I say that in a “he’s my brother” sort of way. He snowboards and lives in a real house and has roommates who don’t skip out on the rent. So he shaves his head bald, like most men shouldn’t.
Dan said he once tried to meet women by “accidentally” running into them on the bike path. Two of them beat him up with their tire pumps, and four are still in the hospital. Dan still has tire tread marks on his face.
He then tried to meet women in the grocery store.
I have a friend who met her husband in the grocery store. She saw him, thought he was cute and ran her shopping cart into him. It was love at first bump.
Dan said he cruised the aisles for hours one Friday night as security cameras kept an eye on him.
“Code 3 in aisle 2,” a voice boomed from overhead. Dan moved from potato chips to ramen, where no women were taking advantage of the 10-for-$2 deals.
“Code 3 in aisle 4,” the voice boomed. Dan rolled his cart from ramen to prepackaged “meats” in preservative brine, all the while trying to find the source of the booming voice.
“Code 3 in aisle 9.” Dan left the store without having made a purchase or hitting on a single woman. I told him he would have done better on Sunday morning – in the personal products section.
“Dude,” he said. “I definitely cannot hang out in the personal products aisle.”
Then, he said, he tried to pick up women at the animal shelter.
“Women like puppies, right, dude?”
Puppies were adopted all day long. But no one took Dan home with them.
He joined a Saturday afternoon bike club but got his butt whooped on the first lap of the lake.
He tried to enroll in a Babes in the Backcountry orienteering course but was dropped because, he said, he didn’t qualify as a “babe.”
He enrolled in a nude drawing class, figuring that if he couldn’t actually date a woman, he could at least look at a naked one. The model was a guy named “Randy.”
We finally suggested Dan do what another friend of ours – I’ll call him “Martin” – did – and move out of the county. Martin had a string of bad luck that ran from Vail Pass to the Eisenhower Tunnel and from Hoosier Pass to Kremmling. Immediately after he moved, he met the love of his life.
Dan decided instead to head to the bar to quaff a few. If he doesn’t meet someone there, he’s going to enroll in a blacksmithing class. He heard “Shirley” would be there.
Jane Stebbins can be reached at (970) 668-3998 ext. 228 or
firstname.lastname@example.org. Dan has left her 50 messages. They aren’t good.
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