For any of you readers who are in a hurry, I’ll cut right to the chase on this one. There’s not much to say about Man #30 except that I would never fuck him. There. You can go on about your day.

For anyone who wants to stay and find out what happened, please, continue.

Man #30 was a date from OkCupid, and, again, I have to say I am getting more intelligent dates from this website. It’s pretty interesting to note the differences between the caliber of men from one site to another. I don’t know if it is how I’ve written my profile or who the typical members are, but OkCupid seems to be the best free online dating website so far. I take back every negative thing I said about the site. I stand corrected.

Man #30 introduced himself by commenting on the fact that in my profile I mentioned that, according to Myers Briggs, I’m an INTJ. He was an ENTJ although he said he didn’t put much stock in it since he had taken the test online and it said the E meant he was a “moderately expressed extrAvert.” He said he didn’t know if that meant he was “additionally turned or concerned” but that he thought of himself as shyly gregarious. He also said, “…I am detailed oriented. People who don’t understand this call it picky. I’m hoping you won’t, and the way you parsed out some of the OKC questions fuels this hope.” He was a writer and a professor and we went on to discuss the pros and cons of outlines and writing an introduction last.

What can I say? I was not attracted to his picture at all. I wouldn’t have normally given him a second glance, but his writing, attention to details, and the fact that he was also a major dog lover made him definitely worth meeting.

After a few more emails, he asked how I would be spending Bastille Day and if I would like to meet.

(Ok, yes, I realize Bastille Day was almost a month ago. I still have a major backlog of writing to do. Please be patient.)

He had planned to go to the festivities at the Seattle Center. I told him I was initially going to go to Dragonfest in the International District, but after hearing that both I-5 at Mercer and the ramp to Hwy 520 would be closed for part of the day, I thought I should stay near my ‘hood.  That meant I would probably avoid Seattle Center and go to Madison Valley for some Bastille Day celebrating. I had heard there was a good deal on wine tasting.

He was down for that, and we agreed to meet in front of Cafe Flora in the afternoon.

Wine tasting at the Bastille Day event was ten dollars for a wine glass, which you carried around from store to store for the tastings. It was fun, and Man #30 was a good wine tasting partner. He seemed to have good taste when it came to bottled grapes. The best white wine of the day was a Semillon from L’Ecole No. 41 in Walla Walla. Most of the stores serving whites had chosen cloyingly sweet Rieslings. One was so bad it needed to be dumped in the bucket.

Ok, I know. Wine tasting is supposed to involve sniffing, swirling, swishing, tasting, and spitting. But, who am I kidding? I’m more of a wine drinker than a wine taster. I only dump when a wine is truly awful, like that really bad Riesling.

L’Ecole No. 41 was also tasting their Syrah, which was very good and put most of the other red wines available to shame. The fact that these are the only two wines I can remember from the whole day, and I tasted them at the end when I had a slight “I don’t spit in the bucket” buzz, should tell you something.

While we were standing at one venue, Man #30 suddenly looked at me and said, “I have to say, you are more beautiful in person than in your pictures.”

(Me blushing.) “Thank you,” I said. It was the second time in a row that a date had told me I looked better in real life than in my profile photos. I must be hitting a new phase. Maybe the wine was giving me a nice glow. Either that or I radiate an irresistible charm when people meet me in person. (It’s too bad you’re reading this. You can’t hear the sarcasm in my voice.) Anyway, the compliment was nice and I accepted it.

During our conversation, Man #30 picked up on the fact that I say Medellin, as in Medellin, Colombia, with a “J” sound for the “ll” instead of a “y” sound. He had lived in Colombia and commented that I said it like the people who are born there. El Professore had lived in Colombia for several years and spoke with an educated Spanish accent. I told him that although I don’t say tortilla with a “j” sound, I do say natilla with a “j”. This caused him to ask if I knew any Colombian recipes, and I rattled off that, in addition to natilla, I can make arepas, sancocho, and a number of things involving pork shoulder, beans, and rice.

Toward the end of our date, my friend, Lourdes, sent me a text message asking if I was at the Bastille Day event. She and I had talked about possibly going to the event together, before I had set up my date with El Professore. However, she had come down with a cold and said she wasn’t feeling up to it.

I sent her a message letting her know I was on a date. This did not dissuade her from saying she was coming to meet me. I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. It would be really weird to have her show up during my date with El Professore, but I had already told her I was on a date and she was coming anyway. I didn’t know what to do.

Maybe my friends think my dates aren’t important to me since I write this blog, but that’s really not the case. I tried to explain to El Professore what had happened and that Lourdes would be joining us, but I could tell he thought it was weird too. Not a good first date impression, I’m afraid.

Luckily, it took Lourdes a while to get there, so my afternoon with El Professore was not completely interrupted. Late in the afternoon, he asked me if I would like to go to dinner, but then Lourdes showed up just in time to go with us. I’m sure he thought I was trying to put up a block by having her there, but that was not my intention at all.

We had a three-some at dinner. We went to have sushi and were seated at a round table. Lourdes ended up choosing a spot between El Professore and I so we were across from each other with her in between. I suppose I could have sat next to him and across from her, but then I was worried that, since I would be facing her, my attention would be too much on her and not him.

It was all very awkward. Lourdes and El Professore struck up a conversation in Spanish, which left me out since I only speak food and phrase book stuff to get me by. We split the check three ways, and when we left the restaurant, El Professore gave me an awkward hug and quickly left.

I had figured we could deposit Lourdes at the bus, and then walk to our cars, but he was gone.

Later, I sent him an email, thanking him for a lovely day, and explained what I felt had happened with Lourdes showing up. I told him I hadn’t known how to handle the situation and I apologized. I received an email back from him saying that he thought I had invited Lourdes as my “wing,” but after hearing more about what happened, he wasn’t sure how he would have handled the situation either.

He was really fun to hang out with, but after the Lourdes incident, we have not scheduled anything else. I doubt that we will. First of all, you see, I’m not that motivated to seek a second date since I have this whole 70 other men to date thing. Plus, I was not physically attracted to him at all. Sometimes, when an ugly guy is really cool, he can grow on you, but I’m not interested in letting that happen.

El Professore wasn’t ugly. More than anything, he was just old looking. At 55, he was the oldest guy I have dated so far. His hair started way back on his head and was not styled in a flattering way. His skin was pale and sort of sallow, and he wore old man clothes.

I think it’s safe to say that big, hunter green plaid is aging on men over 40.

So, although he was really nice and I enjoyed hanging out with him, I could never see myself sleeping with him. He would end up in the friend zone, and I could tell that at some point in the future, like if we would have gone on a second date, he probably would have wanted to kiss me. I didn’t want that to happen.

I’m curious to know how people would have handled the Lourdes situation. Thoughts?