Having narrowly escaped a very harrowing experience dating Slot Machine , I decided it was time to stick my toe back into the Manhattan Dating Pool and logged back on line. I went into this next online encounter with an open mind and high hopes that the next guy I meet would not display violent tendencies or have mommy attachment issues. This next guy looked so good on paper! You know when a guy looks so good on paper you can’t imagine anything going wrong? That’s what happened when I ran across the man I call Comic Book Superhero’s profile on the site I have come to call “NOT OkCupid!”
Not only was CBS (not the TV network, the guy!) an extremely talented cartoon artist, on the phone he sounded like a true gentleman. I was incredibly excited to have piqued this obvious winner’s interest, and started imagining myself at nerdy-yet-cool comic book conventions and glitzy movie premieres.
Our first meeting was promising. He had a cool rock and roll vibe. But while I generally love rockers—and CBS was not only successful but a really nice guy—after a couple of dates I realized the chemistry just wasn’t there. We agreed to be just friends.
End of story? Not by a long shot.
As we were now friends, I invited him to a party I was throwing with my former roommate Gwen. He showed up and seemed to forget the whole “just friends” thing—he was all over me like white on rice. I held firm, and finally, he backed off and excused himself to head to the bathroom.
Where he remained for at least 45 minutes.
Relieved as I was to have him out of my hair, I started to worry. Did he fall in the toilet and drown? Was he ill? Did he pass out? I really just wanted him out of the apartment so I could go to bed. Everyone else was gone, but CBS remained, locked in the loo.
Finally, I put my ear up to the door, but all I heard was a squishing sound.
Bad vibe.
I peeked through the keyhole, and was met with the sight of soapsuds flying everywhere as the guy frenetically washed his hands, obviously over and over. Turns out CBS had a touch of OCD! Would he ever stop scrubbing and exit the premises? Or would I have to call 9-1-1 to break down the bathroom door?
Luckily, he ultimately exited the bathroom on his own, at which point he presented me with a small piece of artwork he had apparently created IN THE BATHROOM!
I still have the 2x2” picture: a rose. I guess he comes to parties prepared with a small square of paper and a pen.
I just hope he brings his own soap.
