Because this is an excerpt from my last date:
I’m at the cafe first, seated, and when he comes in, he’s cute in a quirky way and our phone conversations reveal that he’s smart, so I overlook the Cosby sweater and awkward greeting characteristic of most IT geniuses. He chooses to sit as far away as possible—in the chair across from me, so I have to lean forward, which has the unfortunate effect of making me appear more engaged than I actually am. We talk about our jobs, histories, habits. He tells me that he enjoys role playing games, and I perk up. I’m visualizing us picking out French maid costumes and think huh, I didn’t think he had it in him. Soon, I realize he’s talking about online games and virtual worlds. Super. That’s pretty much my idea of hell. But hey, no judging. I regroup.
We talk politics and he can articulate the reasons he supports John Edward (back when he was in the race), a good sign. But when the conversation wanders into music, he admits that he loves musicals. Deep breath. I cut him some slack; at least he goes to the theater. But no, he had to go and overshare; he tells me just loves the soundtrack of “The Little Mermaid” and in fact, it’s in the CD player in his car. Faced with a lifetime of listening to a crab sing “Under the Sea,” I politely wish him well and try not to run out the door.