Me: The Perfect Date

I had been separated from my husband of fourteen years for about six months when I decided it was time to go on a date. So I went where everyone goes...Plenty Of Fish and wrote my profile and put up a pretty picture. I have to admit that writing to impress is tough. I didn't like that I had to "write about your hobbies and interests" and I tend to be somewhat sarcastic so if I recall correctly, I wrote something like "I'm supposed to impress you with my hobbies and interests. Napping if it can be called a hobby is my favourite pass time...." Well, you get the idea that I no doubt came off as pissy (yes, it seems that pee is already a recurring item in this blog), and imagine my surprise when a week went by and not one man said "hello" or winked or whatever it is that they do to show interest. I went to the "see who viewed your profile" section. 1,400 men had viewed me and not one of them contacted me. Didn't they see my pretty profile picture? Didn't they get the wit and humour of my profile? Clearly they did not. So, I went fishing. I finally found a man who looked good and I hoped smelled even better and contacted him. Let's call him Bobo. We talked on the phone and then met at a pub in Yorkville. He was very good looking and very nice and interesting to talk to. We shared a meal and a few pints. When the bill arrived, I didn't hesitate to pick up the check. And he didn't hesitate to let me. Then we walked back to his place and shagged. I was a bit surprised that he didn't offer me a beverage. I was surprised that a man of fifty years would be living in a no bedroom apartment, but who am I to judge? We had our way with each other and that was nice and then I went home.
That's me, the perfect date: I paid for the meal, I shagged him and went home.
We decided we'd have another date. We met at a restaurant that I like. I expressly told him that a friend was staying with me and that I wouldn't be going back to his place and that my friend would text me at some point to meet me at the end of the evening. Well, she didn't text me, she showed up. She sat with us and had one glass of wine. When the bill arrived I hesitated to pick up the check. I admit it, I was testing him. After some hesitation, he reached for it and said "oh, I'll get this one, you got the last one". Okay with me. My friend took out a twenty to pay for her one glass of wine and...he took it. He did not offer her any change either. He did, he took twenty bucks from her to pay for one glass of Merlot. My hairdresser, after hearing the story has forbidden me to ever date him again. I certainly did not need any convincing.