POF #6: Banana Hammock
October 13, 2010
After two months, I finally went on another POF date. Internet dating is exhausting! After this experiment, I'm going to need therapy because I seem to get rejected by more internet geeks than guys I meet in-person. The latest rejection was from a guy I was supposed to meet at a jazz club last week, who told me that he couldn't make it because his dog was sick. Puhleez!
Anyway, I had been communicating with POF #6 for a couple of weeks. After a few failed attempts to meet, I was beginning to doubt that it would happen. Even as I waited for him at the designated meeting spot, his tardiness had me concerned that he had seen me and fled. But, he actually showed up.
On his profile, there's a photo of him at a bodybuilding competition in which he sports a bright yellow banana hammock, which I teased him about quite severely. (Unless you're working as an exotic dancer at a gay strip club, banana hammocks are NEVER okay!) Anyway, he promised not to wear it on our date. Though relieved that he kept this promise, I was still not impressed by his appearance; he wore khaki cargo pants and an old brown corduroy jacket. I later learned that this was normal attire for sniper training. Don't ask. Also, I noticed a ring tattoo on his wedding finger. Thus, I assume that he's divorced. Or worse, still married! Either way, it's not good.
We met in the Financial District and enjoyed the short walk through Chinatown to Little Italy. (Mental note: Go back to Chinatown to bargain shop!) Banana Hammock probably looked at ten different menus before I said, "What are you looking for, sushi? We're in Little Italy-- it's ALL Italian! Just pick a place!"
"Okay, we'll go to that one," he said as he pointed across the street. We entered the bistro without even glancing at the menu. As I predicted, it looked just like every other menu in town. Although Banana Hammock was polite and upbeat, I couldn't focus on conversation. My ADD was in full effect, and I couldn't (or maybe just didn't care to) process anything he was saying. I was much more interested in gorging myself, and consumed twice as much as the former bodybuilder. I started with a glass of Pinot Grigio and two wedges of bread dipped in olive oil. Next, I ate an entire bowl of farfalle salmonetta (pasta with salmon) and even took a bite of his. For dessert, I insisted that we stop at a sidewalk cart for cannolis and espresso. Although I offered to buy him one, he declined and watched me devour the heavenly cream-filled pastry. (Just writing about it is making my mouth water!)
Despite the fact that we spent over two hours together, I don't recall any interesting conversation-- except our brief dialogue about the term "midget" v. "little person". I know it's not politically correct, but I argued that at 5'1", I am a little person yet do not have the physical characteristics of a "midget". Conversely, a "midget" is undoubtedly a human being, but has distinct genetic features that other little people, such as myself, do not. Technically, a child is a "little person" too. So, I would subcategorize midgets, children, and vertically-challenged adults (myself included) under the "little person" umbrella. Other than that part of the conversation, I was distracted by the hot guy sitting at a nearby table.
Overall, the best part about my date with Banana Hammock was the cannoli. POF #6: Fail!
Anyway, I had been communicating with POF #6 for a couple of weeks. After a few failed attempts to meet, I was beginning to doubt that it would happen. Even as I waited for him at the designated meeting spot, his tardiness had me concerned that he had seen me and fled. But, he actually showed up.
On his profile, there's a photo of him at a bodybuilding competition in which he sports a bright yellow banana hammock, which I teased him about quite severely. (Unless you're working as an exotic dancer at a gay strip club, banana hammocks are NEVER okay!) Anyway, he promised not to wear it on our date. Though relieved that he kept this promise, I was still not impressed by his appearance; he wore khaki cargo pants and an old brown corduroy jacket. I later learned that this was normal attire for sniper training. Don't ask. Also, I noticed a ring tattoo on his wedding finger. Thus, I assume that he's divorced. Or worse, still married! Either way, it's not good.
We met in the Financial District and enjoyed the short walk through Chinatown to Little Italy. (Mental note: Go back to Chinatown to bargain shop!) Banana Hammock probably looked at ten different menus before I said, "What are you looking for, sushi? We're in Little Italy-- it's ALL Italian! Just pick a place!"
"Okay, we'll go to that one," he said as he pointed across the street. We entered the bistro without even glancing at the menu. As I predicted, it looked just like every other menu in town. Although Banana Hammock was polite and upbeat, I couldn't focus on conversation. My ADD was in full effect, and I couldn't (or maybe just didn't care to) process anything he was saying. I was much more interested in gorging myself, and consumed twice as much as the former bodybuilder. I started with a glass of Pinot Grigio and two wedges of bread dipped in olive oil. Next, I ate an entire bowl of farfalle salmonetta (pasta with salmon) and even took a bite of his. For dessert, I insisted that we stop at a sidewalk cart for cannolis and espresso. Although I offered to buy him one, he declined and watched me devour the heavenly cream-filled pastry. (Just writing about it is making my mouth water!)
Despite the fact that we spent over two hours together, I don't recall any interesting conversation-- except our brief dialogue about the term "midget" v. "little person". I know it's not politically correct, but I argued that at 5'1", I am a little person yet do not have the physical characteristics of a "midget". Conversely, a "midget" is undoubtedly a human being, but has distinct genetic features that other little people, such as myself, do not. Technically, a child is a "little person" too. So, I would subcategorize midgets, children, and vertically-challenged adults (myself included) under the "little person" umbrella. Other than that part of the conversation, I was distracted by the hot guy sitting at a nearby table.
Overall, the best part about my date with Banana Hammock was the cannoli. POF #6: Fail!
Posted by Rachel S. Posted In : The POF Experiment
Originally from Chicago, I migrated to Boulder,CO in 1997. I've been in Colorado ever since- leaving only when contracted for work by Club Med Resorts. I had contracts in Mexico, Saint Lucia, Turks and Caicos, and Florida. But after a long-time of being over-worked and under-appreciated as a choreographer, I quit and moved to Miami.
After nearly a year of living in America's butthole, I went on an emergency vacation to Aspen, CO for X-games in 2006, and never left... until now. Goodbye quaint little mountain town; Hello concrete jungle!