Dating Deal Breakers: The Pink Jesus in the Room

What are dating deal breakers?


[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hursday happened with  Kevin Bacon (OneTwo & Three) and then (as the normal progression of time would indicate) it was Friday.  Saturday.  Sunday and thus it was time for my coffee date with The Vampire.  I was calm.  I was relaxed.  To be honest I was much more nonchalant nancy than normal.  And I have Kevin Bacon to thank for that.  Because nothing says relax, you got this like being fresh off a first date that wasn’t a total disaster.  That in fact was actually pretty fun.

Plus.  Ya know.  If everything on his profile was a reflection of truth…He was tall.  He was sexy.  And according to our conversations he seemed pretty normal.  Pretty on the ball.  Pretty with it when it came to Online Dating.  So I put on my magic dress and went to meet my prince of the night.  er.  well.  my acting prince of the night.  This was a day date after all.  3pm.  Starbucks coffee date.  Just a little meet and greet.  To make sure I looked like my photos and he wasn’t a sociopathic serial killer, and hadn’t lied about his height.

I was early.  So unlike me.  I guess I’ve been learning a thing or two about boys after all.  They don’t like to be kept waiting.  Noted, fellas, noted.  He arrived on time.  And his profile had been exact.  *sigh of relief*  I ordered my coffee nonfat skinny vanilla latte at kids temperature.  The barista just looked at me.  Like half-temp?  He asked.  Perfect I said.  Which it ended up not being by the way.  I could feel the burn on my tongue for days.  But I digress.  The Vampire didn’t order anything.  Wasn’t in the mood for coffee.  Which admittedly made me feel a bit awkward but I carried on.  He paid for my drink and we headed outside, to sit on a bench, beside a fountain, in the gorgeous summer sun.  I mean, shit son.  It was pretty smooth and adorable.

The conversation was fantastic.  It started out with where are you from? and before I knew it we were talking about 18th century whore biographies and the many potential literature specialties that I could pursue as I travel down my academic career.  He had questions.  Lots and lots of questions.  And opinions.  And most importantly he had a face that seem to light up when I talked.  When he talked.  When we talked together.  Passion.  And this only a meet and greet.

Before long the boy who seemed a little bit awkward and shy when buying my coffee had become comfortable, confident and expressive.  The truth is I like clear signals.  I don’t like surprises.  I don’t like to chase.  I don’t like fucking uncertainty.  Now this isn’t to say I want fake, over-the-emotional-top, untimely declarations of lusting or liking or loving.  That shit’s just ridiculous.  But signs.  That you like me?  Well that shit is golden ponyboy.  Golden.  The Vampire appeared to speak this lusty sign language fluently.  And it wasn’t creepy like with The PhD.  And it wasn’t missing like with Trucker Joe.  It was perfect.  A brush of the arm here.  A touch of the shoulder there.  Sitting close but not to close.  Looking at me.  Seeing me.  Touching me.  Butterflies.  Laughter.  Perfect.

Detour.  In the last post about Kevin Bacon I mentioned how there are 2 Me’s.  The dating me and the friend me.  I was talking about this with some friends a couple nights before my meet and greet with The Vampire and they almost couldn’t believe it.  But we love this [friend] SSDated!! you should show Her to the boys.  And it got me thinking.  That maybe I should show a bit more of the real me.  The one you read here.  The one who tweets.  The one who laughs loud and full and says a lot of Heyoooos and ThatsWhatSheSaid’s all the while deliciously loving sexy innuendo and puns that taste so good they make your tongue hurt.  And so that’s what I had decided to do, with The Vampire, and honestly it was going fucking amazing.

Back on Track.  Everything with The Vampire was going flawlessly.  The conversation was great.  He was fun.  He was passionate.  He was interested in what I had to say.  He was engaging to say the least.  And to be completely honest his eyes had casually drifted enough times while I innocently adjusted the top of my dress and the pendant around my neck that I was certain at the very least, he found me attractive.  Not to mention when he mentioned how incredibly photogenic I was and how I was even more beautiful than my photos.  And then it happened.  Not so much a bombshell…though I felt shell shocked afterwards.  He let it slip.  More little by little than one big kaboom but how it happened is really just semantics.  There was no avoiding the reality (and I use that term loosely) of the situation.

He hit me with one of many dating deal breakers.  Or was it?

Somehow.  I, one of the world’s minor exaggeration biggest Atheist, had ended up on a date with a Christian. I mean, what are the fucking chances?  And though everyone’s first question, when I tell them this, seems to be, does he go to church?  Like that’s what matters to me.  Church is just a ritual and to be honest, rituals have a great potential to be awesome depending on what they are and how they’re used.  Church isn’t a problem for me.  Believing there’s a big guy in the sky??  Now that’s the fucking Crown of Thorns in my side.

And in a moment.  A gust of wind blew all the real potential out of the date.  Because as I explained to my mother later when she suggested that he might change…could change…that it was possible…maybe I’d convince him.  The truth is he wasn’t a child.  Who hadn’t yet thought things through.  So obviously it was something he pondered a great deal.  At 33 you fucking know yourself.  Or at least you should.  And obviously this was a belief he held onto strongly.  And though religion seemed awful to me.  Just as awful is a fickle believer.  Ok so it might not be quite as bad.  Because after all I’d rather someone eventually turn to science and logic than never turn that way at all.  But still.  Not for me.  Just.  Sigh.  Not for me.

But just because I wasn’t picturing our golden years together doesn’t mean I was ready to throw the baby Jesus out with the manger water.  Think of all the good dating we could still have.  Because he was fun.  We were having fun.  And the laughter was real.  So I kept my mouth shut.  Sat there silent while he talked about a hope of one day doing Missionary work in Africa.  Though until then it was working in hospitality and going to culinary arts school.  I smiled and avoided his eyes.  Steered clear of falsehoods except through my silence.  Tried to guide the conversation away.  Did everything I could to avoid addressing the big pink Jesus in the room.

Which was successful because the date came right back to amazing and carried on that way till he walked me to my car.  Where we continued to talk.  And then he hugged me.  Long.  Delicious.  Strong.  And said he definitely wanted to hang out again.  Held my door open for me.  Smiled.  And said goodbye.  A perfect first date.  An amazing meet and greet.  Ya know.  But with one major minor glitch.


The following two tabs change content below.

Victoria Young

Writer. Dater. Masturbator. Stop ruining my jokes by believing the self-deprecation. I am far greater than your boner will ever know.