This story may surprise you and you may be thinking I am crazy, but I tell you, this is the truth. Nobody can make this shit up.
The clay man made his entrance very early in my online dating life. He was the second guy I dated after my divorce and to tell you the truth I don't even remember what his name was but I call him the clay man because...well, we will get there.
I found him on one of the dating sites that you pay for....The one where you try and justify shelling out 60.00 a month because "I would spend that anyway on a night out on the town, I might as well just spend the money and stay at home and do this"
Anway, I found him and right away I realized that he was an artist of some kind. He wore a beret in his profile photo and the next five pictures were of ceramic pots and then one of his dog.
I know...I should have run at that moment. Anytime somebody has pictures of inanimate objects in their profile it means one of two things. Either they don't own any photos of themselvese except for the stupid self portrait taken with their nokia or they are just plain unoriginal and thought..."what can I take a photo of for my profile. Ah, these pots look cool. And here is a spatula." I just don't understand guys' reasoning at their choice for photos.
The clayman and I hit it off in our emails to one another. I envisioned him sitting on a blanket in his backyard doing yoga, eating a granola bar having conversations with a couple of sparrows. He was very "Austin". He had a very eclectic way about him and lived on the east side which was a very old part of town that was up and coming with the cool 30 somethings. We chatted about art and pottery and cement. He owned a company that made cement something or other. I just imagined him aiming that little tube with all the cement pouring out of it into a pot hole drinking a high life. I wonder if he wore that beret under his hard hat. The truth was that he made custom counters and floors out of cement. I asked him a lot of questions about his lifestyle and his company and found him to be interesting. It was time to meet for a date, naturally.
I chose this bar on congress that was well known for wine and they had this fun stack of trivia card on the tables that sparked a "what if" conversation. I showed up before he got there (shocking, I know) and ordered a glass of white wine. After a few minutes, I made my way to the restroom to do the last minute check. (butt, boobs, breath) and headed out to the bar. The bartender asked me if I was meeting someone and I said yes. He then told me that there was a guy that just walked in and went to the restroom. I asked him if he looked like a normal guy and he said.."I guess so."
There was my chance, I could have faked an emergency and ran out the front door but NO...I HAD TO MEET THE BOY IN THE BERET!! He emerged from the restroom and was wearing a sweater that would have made Harry Potter jealous. It was just missing the hogwarts emblem on the chest. He had on nice jeans, had a head full of unruly curls and that is when I saw them....his work boots caked in clay. (well, cement I would soon learn, but either way, did it matter? Did he not pass a pay less on the way to the bar? Could he not have put on a nice pair of shoes or at least clean ones, but I found out this is what to expect when you date an "ar-teest"
We had that weird "do we hug do we shake hands" moment and then sat and started to chat. Now, there is something that really bothers me about going on a first date. I hate when a guy meets me out for a "drink" and sits down and wants to order food. Petty, I know, but if we were to meet for dinner, then that is one thing, but when he plops down and inhales three bowls of chex mix and asks to see the dinner menu, i feel that the conversation is going to be compromised.
"have you eaten, I am starving?"
"uh, yes I ate before I got here."
Little does he know that I am like a senior citizen and eat dinner at 4pm. Either way, on the way to Payless to buy new shoes, he could have sprung for a tequito or something.
"I don't think they have food here, just this bar mix."
He inhales another bowl and has a piece of pretzel sitting where the Hogwarts emblem should go. I begin to replay scenes from the movie in my head and fantasize about playing quiddich.
"so you have a daughter? "
He has polished off the bowl of chex mix and is now licking his finger and running it along the bottom of the bowl, bringing it to pursed lips.
"actually, I have a son. His name is Sam. Tell me about your daughter, is she here in Austin?"
this question will forever remain in my mind as one of the top five questions to NEVER bring up on a first date. I will rank them right up there with 1. tell me about your last sexual encounter 2. do I look fatter than my profile pics and 3. are you hoping to get some tonight.
this question spiraled him into a 45 minute conversation about his ex and how she took their daughter to California and how he pays x amount of dollars in child support and how it cost him so much money to travel to see his daughter because not only does he have to cough up the money for the plane ride but he has to pay for a hotel room too and have I ever had a three year old in a hotel room for a week straight? All they do is play with the lights in the bathroom and accidentally call room service.
Of course, I listened to him vent about his life and the trials and turbulations of life with clay and how very few people really understand how long it takes for cement to dry. We talk for about another hour and then it is time for the date to end. He walks me to my car and he gives me a hug and we say goodbye. I leave not really knowing any better, thinking that the clay man may be the man of my dreams, I just don't know it yet. I figure that I will give him one more date before i figure out if I want to know all about the elements of cement and what it has to offer as far as resale value in a house.
On the way home, I begin to envision our Christmas card. I see a forest with bright colors on the leaves and a mountain in the background. Clay man is wearing a carhart jacket and jeans with his work boots (covered in clay of course.) I am sitting next to him, the wind blowing my hair back like Pocahantes. I am wearing a flowy dress made out of hemp and have birkenstocks on. I have a single braid in my hair with bright colored threads and am playing a harp.
Peace and Harmony from the Clay Clan.
On the bottom of the card is his business phone number and a list of basic cement flooring quotes He wrote the Christmas card off as business marketing and places them on people's windshields in the Home Depot parking lot.
For some crazy insane reason, I have not had my fill of this guy and he asks me if I want to go to a bar that his buddy just opened. He designed the cement bar of course and wants to show me how the floors came out. I agree to meet him and get ready for what I feel is going to be another interesting glimpse into his artsy lifestyle.
I show up around 8pm that night and there is not one parking spot in the front of the restaurant. I opt for a place around the back in the alley and make my way to the front door. He is at the (cement) bar with a near empty bottle of wine. He stands up and hugs me when I walk in. A slow stroke of his hand touches the bar.."what do you think?" he asks me. I look at it and try and figure out what I am supposed to say. "wow" is all I can come up with. He is obviously proud and beaming from ear to ear at his creation. I contemplate bringing a sandwich with me next time and wonder if I can show him what I do for a living. I could stroke the bread with one finger and say "what do you think?"
Now, the clay man I have only chatted with a couple of times, but I can tell that he is visibly a bit under the influence. I glance at the bottle of champagne he has on the bar and he hands me a glass. We talk for a bit and then opt to go outside and have a cigarette. He lights his American Spirit and I automatically confirm my thoughts that he is a hippie. We sit outside and finish the bottle of champagne then open another. At this time, he is leaning into me and has his hand on my leg. We are sitting close and he is studying my face with such intensity that I barely notice how figity he is. I look down at his leg which is bouncing up and down like a percussionist and his hand is shaking. I sit back and light another cigarette and he takes a deep breath and says "can I ask you a question?" I smile at him nervously, waiting for him to ask me how I feel about dating a guy with ADD when he goes all Jekyl and Hyde on me.
"what the fuck is going on here?"
I stop in mid puff and look at him like he just slapped me.
"excuse me?"
"I said...what the FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?"
He angrily puts his cigarette out on the table and slams the rest of his champagne. I turn around and check to see if he is talking to someone else behind me.
"what do you mean? and why are you yelling? I am right here."
I immediately change gears and sit back, crossing my arms in instant defense.
"I mean, what is going on between us? I think that we have something going on here, but I don't know if you feel it. I think that we are going somewhere and then you pull this shit."
I laugh instantly and wait for his head to start spinning. We are the only ones outside and I glance inside at the normalcy of the couples sitting at the tables nearby. Is this some sort of joke?
He sits back and lights up another cigarette. I am dumbfounded at his actions and squint at him as if peering into the sunlight. "what are you talking about? I don't understand..."
He cuts me off immediately. "you know, I want to be with you, I want to committ to you and you just sit here and act like there is nothing between us."
ha.."clay man, we JUST met. I have a better relationship with the guy at the 7 -11 than I do with you. Don't you think that you are being a little.."
"a little what. I don't get what your FUCKING problem is."
I am trying not to laugh. He is shaking uncontrollably and looks like he may duck under the table in the fetal position and start reciting something about having to watch Judge Whopner.
"I have to go to the bathroom, i will be right back."
I get into the restroom and quickly dial the phone to talk to my friend Kellie. I try and recap the insane date and plead with her for some sort of advice on how to get out of this. She quickly hands the phone over to her husband and I tell the "made for reality tv" moment and he very blatently says
"he's all coked up."
"are you serious?"
"yeah, he has to be. Is he really figity and eyes all buggin out?"
"yes, yes he is. It is the weirdest thing, what the hell do I do.?"
There is a long pause as I search for a window in the restroom to crawl through.
"Run. Walk up to him, tell him thank you for the bottle of champagne than run."
I hang up the phone and head out to the bar. He is rocking back and forth in the chair outside and resembles a member of the show intervention. I walk up to him, hold out my hand and say "Clay man, thank you for the champagne, but I am out of here."
He looks at me with shock and horror and slowly stands up. I then realize that I have parked my car in the back alley and run like hell to my car, waiting to see if he is following me. Like the Dukes of Hazzard, my toyota screeches out of the parking lot and I glance in my rearview mirror to see if he is running down the street yelling at me "what the fuck is going on here?"
Harry Potter, there is no magic in this date tonight.
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