Three Dates in the Door

Someday my prince will come, but until then, I date. I date in Door County, and damn, it’s eventful! Here is a countdown of the three most awkward dates of 2011. [Note: names have been changed, but it’s a small county, ask around and you’ll probably figure it out.]

3. Beeswax and Vodka

After applying cream to Mr. Hippie’s blistered hands, scalded after he gripped a boiling pot of beeswax, I poured a couple screwdrivers. Mr. Hippie, an unemployed barista and aspiring photographer, rested his brown corduroys on my knees while we watched a film about the life of William Wordsworth. I sipped and sipped and sipped the sweet beverage, sipped until my body tingled.

“How much vodka did you pour in here?” asked Mr. Hippie.

“I don’t know. I’ve never made these before…like half and half,” I answered, unable to focus. A few minutes later, my head is spinning. “Oh my God. I’m gonna puke.”

There I was, on the tiles of his bathroom floor, vomiting orange liquid while he tried to hold back my hair with his bandaged hands.

“Mr. Hippie,” I exhaled, swallowed, and closed my eyes. “Am I pretty?” My head went back into the toilet.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why don’t you think you’re pretty?”

Uh…we remained friends, but went our separate ways.

2. Over-sharing Over Sushi

Mr. Desperate-for-a-Girlfriend, a local cook who wore a tweed cap, met me at the TAP for sushi on a cold, dreary Tuesday night, even after I ignored five of his last six calls.

He carried in a small white sake pitcher with matching sake cups. He described his love of the Renaissance Period. He said he thought he would never hear from me after I listened to one of his recent voicemails.

“Why? What did it say?” I asked. “I deleted the message before I listened.”

A red hue spreading over his white cheeks, Mr. Desperate-for-a-Girlfriend rambled, “Eh, well, I was angry that you weren’t calling me back. I was sarcastic and said…I said thanks for getting back to me…so I could make plans.”

“Huh.”

“But I’m so glad that you didn’t listen and you’re here. It was meant to be.”

We hugged goodbye. I went to my car, he to his.

He pulled his car next to mine. Don’t do it, don’t do it, Mr. Desperate-for-a-Girlfriend, I thought.

I rolled down my window.

“I just want to say that I really like you! And I think you’re really great! And it was really nice to meet you!”

I smiled. I gave him a double thumbs up from inside my Chevrolet Lumina. “Let’s take it slow,” I said.

I ignored his subsequent phone calls.

1. Mr. Didgeridoo

We met at Target. Well, on eHarmony, then Target. Mr. Didgeridoo was tall and lanky, like the instrument he bore 12 hours in his blue station wagon. A botanist from the UP, Mr. Didgeridoo asked me about my favorite plants (uh…lilacs), listed his personality disorders (uh…scary), and held the massive Australian instrument to his lips, huffing and puffing while a deep note bellowed in the walls of my apartment. I smiled. “Wow.”

He meant to stay longer…but I did what any girl would do to hurry along the departure of Mr. Wrong – I told him my best friend took a positive pregnancy test and needed my immediate support.

Fortunately, for every dating disaster – there is the boy who drives to your place at midnight to kill a gigantic spider. Another who calls you ‘bliss’ and sings the Dirty Dancing theme song to you. And the one who tells you on date three that “when he saw you, he knew”…okay, not that one, that’s creepy.

Cheers to dating in 2012!

Follow more of Sally’s Door County dating escapades on Twitter: @sallydatesdc.