Mr-too-perfect

"I supposed it would start with a plan to meet up for coffee at the bourgeois pig in the middle of the afternoon- and then we find that we like each other so well, that we end up deciding to take a walk together, and end up at Lincoln Park Conservatory. While walking through the bounteous foliage, along the narrow paths- we share a few poignant moments of connection. The air starts to thicken between us. You casually grab my elbow. I brush your hair out of your eyes.... We both decide to cancel our plans for the rest of the day- despite being very important. We take an impromptu trip to the art institute. I enjoy the modern wing, while you want to see the Monet. You impress me with your knowledge of impressionism, I wow you with my passion for Cy Twombly. We wander around the museum until we double around every exhibit.... From there, your friend is performing in a casual cabaret. He's not very good, but there's a two drink minimum, and we have a fun time listening to our favorite Broadway pastimes get destroyed by your friend. Afterward, you're too polite to call him out on his sub par performance. Nothing but hugs, kisses, and "brava, great show" because you are a good human being like that....We part ways on the train platform, what with me heading north and you headed south. We make small talk until the my train comes first. I hop on, give a coy smile, and hope secretly that you'll text me in a few minutes when your train arrives. We part with nothing but a timid hug, I lean in, you lean in, yet with both miss the lean in. I wait by my phone for you to text on the train. "trains here. Thanks for a great night". I smile."

Dreamy, right? This is, I kid you not, a recent exchange I've shared on OKCupid with someone asking me for my ideal date. He sent me his, I sent him mine (ideal date, not XXX pics. Shout out to Grandma!) and it actually made me incredibly anxious to meet him. He is perfect. He's a hopeless romantic. He has an appreciation for the arts, he is an amazing writer (JUST LIKE ME!), and what's more, he's an actor. McDreamy.

We text for weeks. Every conversation is as casual and comfortable as the last. Debating why Eric Whitacre needs to learn new chords. Commenting on the clever lyrics of Into the Woods, but recognizing that Sondheim's voiceleading, while impossible, also draws the listener in. See, none of my loyal readers care for any of that, which is why we currently aren't dating. (side note. If you care about those things, hit me up.) But he did care for those. Which is why we text for weeks.

We decided to meet for dinner. I let him take the lead, hoping it would be every bit as romantic and sensual as his ideal date. We meet for Ethiopian food. (I had to google where Ethiopia was prior to this date. I'm a Klassy Lady)

In case you were about to google it, too...

Now. If you know me, I'm a pretty square guy. I like my sushi dry, my office desk meticulous, my shirts ironed. I don't eat with my hands. I don't share my food. I don't need that type of adventure in my life.  Why? Because God invented sporks for a reason. So even in the most dire of situations, you have at least a spoon and a fork (and, if you're lucky, you get the ones with

FAAAAAANCY

the knife feature, too!)  I learn that Ethiopia is a country in Africa, and one where you eat with your hands. I literally almost cancelled the date with this knowledge. But he sounds so perfect. And part of my dating mantra was to try something new. So, I stocked up on handiwipes, hid a spork in my pocket, and set off.

The waiter comes by. Something to drink gentlemen? Hell. I've never been to an Ethiopian Restaurant. Let's try the honey wine. (YUM). And for you? "I don't drink"










Crickets







Excuse me?







Ok, that's fine. I'll just have one glass of wine. There is nothing wrong with not drinking. Let's look at the menu. Explain to me how this works. When I look into your eyes I melt because you are so convincing. You draw me in. I'll have this chicken with the egg and beets. And for you? "I don't eat meat"









Crickets






I do meditation every morning with the people living in my building. I teach yoga once a week. I work out in a group in the south loop where no one is allowed to use weights. We just use each others energy. I have an audition tomorrow for a movie (and not even an XXX movie...WTF?) I've never been to a gay bar. I've never had a long term relationship.

This guy did the impossible. He was literally too perfect. I couldn't share with him that the Sunday before, I was hungover in bed until 2pm because of St. Patrick's Day celebrations. I couldn't meet him and his friends at Scarlet for a Frat Night party because he doesn't even know where Scarlet is. I couldn't explain my struggle with having a mid-life crisis at 26, causing me to Blog.

Then, he asks me to tell him about a date recently that went well. Listen, Mr. Perfect. If I recently had a date that went well, do you seriously think I'd be on OKCupid? Or, for that matter, out with you right now? I suck at dating. Let me tell you about how I suck at dating. Then he asks me if I've even fallen in love with someone after just a few dates.

Remember before Pinterest, when we had to use our imagination??

The thing with dating actors is that they are convincing. The way he spoke to me was similar to the way he delivered his lines as "Lincoln" in his traveling production that visits middle schools to talk about segregation.  He made me care, he drew me in, but everything was superficial. His ideal date was so perfect, but not an actuality, because his job as an actor is to be drawn in by the fantasy, to only step back and realize the intermission is in 5 minutes, and the actors top-hat is actually construction paper and cardboard. He tells me stories of his coming out, of the first guy he fell in love with, and his success of OKCupid, and I realize, I got tickets to the theater tonight, and didn't even have to pay (except, he's a poor actor, so I had to pay for dinner. Damn). He did his job tonight. He sold his story. Yet it wasn't real.

The reason he wanted to share perfect dates via OKCupid, and the reason he asked me questions about my perfect first dates, was because he himself never had one. I knew I would never be able to connect with him because he was unwilling to connect with reality. Perfection has its limitations, and in this case, its fault of imperfection in understanding the dating world. I was, like all of us, drawn in by the story, to only realize that the story was impossible. That perfect date, at least with him, would never happen.

Lesson Learned: The perfect date will be possible, but it'll take many perfect guys, imperfect guys, coffee dates, missed connections, and hangovers to bring it into reality. I'd rather be imperfect and struggling than perfect and not experiencing life. Even if that struggle means a hangover until 2pm.

Joe Fox (RE: You've got Mail)