Barney Fife

St Patty’s Day weekend ended a long-running dry spell for me.  I think it’s because when E went out of town, I felt the need to carry on the blog in her absence and fell heavily in my zone.  I consequently picked up 3 dates and went out on the first one last night.  Here is some background in order to fully appreciate the story of this date.  During our last communication on EH I sent him an open-ended question about his worst date.  He answered with a story about a great date (from his perspective) until he paid for dinner and then the girl bolted out of the restaurant leaving him alone at his table.  RED FLAG #1.

It was a gorgeous night so we met at an outside patio, and I was pleasantly surprised that he lived up to his profile pictures.  That is, until he started talking.  From the second I sat down on the crowded patio, he started grilling me as if I was in the world’s most intense interview to be the next Mrs. EH.  What was my passion in life?  What do I do to better myself?  What’s my favorite restaurant? (which he forgot and asked twice)  He truly didn’t care how I answered, but just wanted to give me his cookie-cutter scripted Miss America answers that he’d obviously delivered hundreds of times.  When he talked he became overzealous to the point his eyes bulged out of their sockets like a cartoon character, which is why he has aptly been named Barney Fife.  RED FLAG #2.During this elaborate performance to prove to me that he and I were meant to be together, he lectured me on sports and what I didn’t understand about coaching and recruiting.  He changed his mind twice about food stating he hated fried food then told me his favorite restaurant was Bojangles, all trying to match my tastes and opinions.  I gingerly tried leading him to the conclusion that he was attempting to fit a square peg into a round hole by keeping up this charade, but he stayed annoyingly optimistic the entire time that I would come around and fall for his perfect façade.  RED FLAGS #3,4,5.

When the rain moved everyone inside the bar, I decided I couldn’t take any more of Barney Fife’s antics so I got some things off my chest.  I told him that women aren’t looking for men who have all of the right answers or the perfect resume on paper.  I told him everything he said was great and respectable but that I’d spent 3 hours talking to him and didn’t feel like I knew anything about the real him.  Unfortunately, Barney couldn’t take brutal honesty, told me I “wasted his f*&% time”, and stormed out of the bar.  Honestly, it was the best outcome for both of us.  I finally got the hell out of there and maybe he’ll learn why women keep storming out of his dates!


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