Polycule: “I’m Kind of Generic”

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• 1300 words • 5-6 min •

As promised… the second terrible date I’ve been on recently. This one, thankfully, was less terrifying. He respected every boundary I had, and was perfectly polite and nice.

But, uh. That was… that was about it.

Recently-ish, I’ve been open to dating couples. I’ve never done it before, and read some cute triad romance novels that gave me starry-eyed daydreams about it. Plus, it was something I thought would be really interesting to write about for Polycule (haha! I am shameless). There will be a lot more on that at a much later date (pun).

So this guy – Mr. Generic – responded to that, and said he’d show my picture to his wife and tell her about me and see if she was interested.

SHE WAS NOT.

Flat-out, just. Nope. “Not my type.”

Art by Ursulav on Deviantart

He had only shown her one picture and told her basic stats about me – age, sexuality, hobbies, etc. And that was enough to be like “hard pass?” 😭 😭 😭 WHYYYYY??? (#GirlsDontLikeMe)

Anyway I was totally cool and didn’t make a big deal out of it. (This is a blatant lie.)

Mr. Generic asked if I’d still be interested in dating just him alone. (SIGH. I MEAN I GUESS, FINE. WHATEVER. YOUR WIFE DOESN’T THINK I’M GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER BUT LIKE SURE OK FINE.)

He was really cute (like, really cute. Dark, full lashes that looked VELVETY they were so thick, around pale blue eyes), and charming in a humorously self-deprecating way. First, he asked me on a lunch date, but I only had a half-hour lunch at the time.

Him: I could bring you lunch.

Me: The thirst is so strong.

Him: 20 minutes of delicious lunch, 10 minutes of make outs.

Me: What if you’re a bad kisser?

Him: 20 minutes of lunch, 1 minute of kissing, 5 minutes of awkward silence, and you’re back 5 minutes early.

He was silly and charming (I thought). With a stroke of luck, my schedule got changed a few days into talking to him, so my half-hour lunch morphed into an hour-long lunch (woohoo!). Time for an actual lunch date (at Panera, the love of my life. Drag all the boys to Panera so even if they suck, I still get tasty sandwiches).

This date was just. Oh man.

He was late, first of all. Which isn’t a big deal to me, but I think it threw him off his game. He apologized profusely the minute he arrived, while I said what I always say when meeting guys from the internet – “Wow you’re tall.” (He’s 6’4″ so this time it at least made more sense.)

The first maybe 15 minutes of the date, he said nothing to me except “I’m sorry,” and “I don’t know,” and “Not really.” We ordered food and I tried to chat with him about basic small talk, but every answer was just “Not really,” or “Yeah, I don’t know.”

We finally sat down. And now I present to you…

20 minutes of me trying to make a conversation happen that absolutely was not going to happen.

Me: So you said you were late because of a big work meeting?

Him: Yeah.

Me: Do you have those a lot?

Him: Not really.

Me: … What is it you do, exactly?

Him: Architectural engineering.

Me: Oh, wow, that sounds cool! Building houses and stuff.

Him: Not really.

Me: Oh, ok.

….

Me: So do you build office buildings instead? Or?

Him: Yeah.

Me: Cool. Like skyscrapers?

Him: No.

Me: *aggressively eats sandwich*

Him: Architects are like artists, and they come up with these really elaborate ideas, and then we have to figure out how to make it work in real life.

🎉OH THANK GOD, A SENTENCE. A FULL SENTENCE. 🎉 

Me: That sounds really tough. Do you ever get architects giving you really impossible things and you have to explain to them it’s not going to happen?

Him: No.

Sigh, nevermind.

Me: Haha my only knowledge of architecture comes from playing the Sims and building houses on there.

Him: I’ve never played that.

Me: *finds sandwich fascinating*

Clearly his decently cool job wasn’t going to spark any conversation topics. Time to switch tactics.

Me: So what do you when you’re not off being a super smart engineer?

Him: Not much, really.

Me: *quietly takes a very deep breath*

Him: I like taking my dog out to the lake.

Me: YOU HAVE A DOG. Tell me all about them!

Him: She’s a really dumb dog.

Me: 😠😠😠

Him: But I love her anyway. She tries.

Me: Aww…

Him: I got her to go duck hunting but she’s bad at it.

Me: [Ew hunting] Oooh duck hunting? [Literally anything to make a conversation happen I stg]

Him: Yeah.

Me: So do you like, know how to make all kinds of duck calls?

Him: No.

Me: Aw, so do you have those weird duck call whistles then?

Him: Not really. I’m kind of just… generic.

You have no idea how much strength of will it took to not laugh. I deserve a fucking medal for the performance I put on in that Panera, my friends. He just said the truest thing about himself I have ever heard and I had to not smile, not laugh, not bang my head on the table, not look into the camera like I was on the office. I picked up my sandwich and shoved it into my face and did not laugh.

By the grace of GOD HIMSELF, the date ended. Mercifully. He had to return to work.

We left Panera and I put out my arm like an old-fashioned gentleman. “Walk me to my moped, sir?”

“Oh.” He looked over at my moped, then away. “But I’m parked over here. I mean, I guess I could walk over there with you. If you wanted me to.”

“No, that’s okay. Haha.” As I awkwardly drop my arm and we hover weirdly on the sidewalk. “You’re so tall,” I say again because honestly what the fuck am I even doing anymore. “I bet if I hugged you, I’d barely reach your shoulder.”

“Wanna test it?”

“Sure!” I opened my arms for a hug

And he awkward Christian side-hugged me.

I was so short, my head went right into his armpit.

“Okay, um, it was nice meeting you!” I scurried to my moped before I could even hear his “you too” or whatever the hell because I would rather return to work than continue trying to speak to this man any longer.

By the time I reached work, he had sent me a text.

Honey, “if” doesn’t begin to cover it. But I told him he was okay, and asked for specific details of how tall he was so when I describe my head in his armpit to my boyfriends later, they would be able to form a more accurate mental picture.

After that, he just stopped talking. Which, you know. It’s not like he did a lot of talking on the date, either. I like to imagine him going home to his excited wife wondering how his date went, and I just. I want to know what he told her. Did he put his head in his hands and confess how horribly awkward he was? Did he try to play it off as like we just weren’t compatible? Did he think it went well????

I guess I’ll never know.

Next week, I return you to your regularly scheduled Polycule in the fall of 2016, featuring a guy who thought discussing his prostate exam – loudly – in a coffee shop was the way to win my heart.

Post Script:

He just awkward laughed and *then* we finally got to end this damn date.

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