Soap Opera Sunday, Episode 4

Welcome to Soap Opera Sunday, a collection of wonderful stories being hosted by Jenn in Holland this week. Founded by Brillig and Kateastrophe, Soap Opera Sunday is my favorite bloggy activity. To catch up on my story, read Episode 1, Episode 2 and Episode 3.

Now, when T first suggested that we join Match.com, I was reluctant. I was pretty happy with my life, after all. I didn't need a boyfriend. I still wasn't even sure that I wanted one. And I busily assured everyone (because T had mentioned our new activity to everyone we worked with) that I was perfectly capable of meeting men on my own. I had, I'm embarrassed to say, a rather snotty attitude about Match.com. Sure, it was fine for other people, but I didn't need any HELP meeting people.

Karma for this attitude showed up in the form of Kenny.

The school I taught at was one the few remaining schools that had a working kitchen. The "lunch ladies" actually cooked the food. I always got along with them, but I was really surprised when one of them came down to my classroom during my planning time. Especially since she was giggling. I didn't think she'd be giggling if she was worried about one of my students, but I couldn't figure out why she'd come to my room otherwise.

"Do you know the milk man?" she asked.

"The guy who delivers the school's milk?" I questioned, because I was expecting a report about one of my students. Or a solicitation for buying Girl Scout cookies from her daughter.

"He wants to go out with you. I promised him I'd ask you for your number because he's too afraid to ask you himself." She giggled some more.

"Are you serious? I don't even know who he is," I replied.

"Well, his crush on you brightens my whole day. I've been trying to convince him to make a move for months." She giggled again at the cuteness of it all.

Two thoughts occurred to me: One, I could meet men without even trying. Two, what kind of loser would find me intimidating? I had to know. I gave her my phone number.

The milk man called that night. He seemed to have me confused with Drew Barrymore, for all the compliments he heaped on me. I asked him, sort of jokingly, if he had me confused with one of the other teachers. He described my outfit that day perfectly. Too bad I hadn't noticed him at all. Still, I agreed to go out with him. He seemed nice, more grown up than 21 year old and more sure of his feelings than Freakboy.

So we went out. He lived WAY out in the country and drove for two hours to take me out. That was pretty flattering. And he paid for everything. That was pretty nice. But his two topics of conversation were my attractiveness (boring, even for someone like me who's not used to such things) and his daughter (which would have been fine, except that I found out that the three year old's mother was 20 and milk man was a few years older than I was and the situation just seemed skeevy). That was pretty awful. And then he tried to insist that we go on a carriage ride on the Plaza, even though I find the horses depressing. He actually seemed to be pissed that I didn't want to go on the carriage ride. Alarm bells went off in my head. Finally I escaped to the bathroom and called my friend Mimi, and she and her boyfriend "accidentally" ran into us. Thank God.

It was the worst date ever. The following Monday, I received roses from Kenny thanking me for the BEST date ever. I filled out my Match.com profile at lunch.

(Kenny recovered. He now delivers 7Up. He was living with someone the last time he called me.)

Hours after joining Match.com, I had twelve messages from apparently normal men in the Kansas City area.