Man with a Plan

There has long been a resounding belief that all women want to get married and that we are plotting and planning this from the very first date. Perhaps this may be true for some women intent upon becoming bridezillas or those whose biological clocks and desire for children have taken over. But something that no one ever seems to mention or even think about is that the reverse is also true - there are also men out there who really want to be married and are plotting and planning this from date one. Yes, there really are men out there who hanker to be groomzillas and who also have biological clocks worked up into a hormonal Daddy-desperate frenzy. I’m not sure why this concept hasn’t been explored or touted on the cover of Men’s Health or Maxim, but let me tell you it is a very real phenomenon. It can strike young men just starting out or older gents more set in their lives and careers. And it is a phenomenon that continually surprises and awes me, while making me want to run for the hills like Julia Roberts in The Runaway Bride.

Brian and I sat side by side in a college art course that consisted mostly of viewing slides in a darkened auditorium. Luckily, red-headed Brian would keep me on my toes with his flirtatious remarks about the great naked ladies of the Renaissance period. Eventually, he asked me out and all was going well on our date until we ran into some free time between dinner and our movie. With a smile, Brian drove me to his favorite haunt in our Kansan college town – John Deere. There, he proceeded to drive through the tractors and point out those he wanted to have on his farm someday. He took my hand as he spoke of his dream tractors and I couldn’t help but see myself years in the future living in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by fields of wheat, red-headed children, and big green tractors. Yikes, it was much too much for my twenty year-old brain to process and our date (and any hopes of a relationship) ended with a friendly hug.

Over a decade later, upon meeting Dwight for our first date I was taken with his Michael Keaton cuteness. We made our way to an upscale Midtown dinner where we proceeded to hit it off over shared chicken pot pie and cornbread. He was funny, charming, and had a twinkle in his eye that came across as quite fetching. All was going remarkably well until we started talking about past relationships. In speaking about his ex-girlfriend, he over-shared in such graphic detail it is wonder that I didn’t blush. He then went on to tell me that things ended because she wasn’t sure she wanted to have children. Almost in the same breathe, he asked me if I wanted to have children and if so, how many. I was saved from having to answer with the arrival of our dessert – a decadent brownie and ice cream combo that loomed large. When he took my hand and told me that he wanted to date me and only me, I knew our dating days were doomed.

There have been many other fellows who have made it clear from the beginning that they are a hankerin’ for a wife and kids. These guys are quick to ask questions about when I got my dog (to determine how long I’ve been ‘mothering’), whether my sisters are married and have children (because there must be a pattern there), and whether I can see myself living outside of the city (code for having kids and moving to the burbs). They have also at times hinted and/or outright asked about my desire (and even ability – yes ability) to have children. Needless to say, whenever I come across one of these guys, it makes me feel like I’m going to suffocate or spontaneously combust. And I always find myself thanking my lucky stars for freewill, my eternal optimism, and great sneakers for running if all else fails.

Fifty Dates

I’m exhausted, ready to fall asleep on my keyboard as I reminisce. I recently had fifty dates in one night. That’s right, FIFTY dates. I met more guys in that one night than I typically meet in months. And the ecstasy (or agony) of it, is that it took just a couple of hours. You see, I attended a marathon speed dating event – a newer, faster, speedier type of speed dating that is perfect for time starved people used to bonding by texting, twitting, and Facebook. While I am not a huge fan of any of these modes of connecting, the idea appealed to me. There is something very catchy about the concept of meeting fifty people, even if it is for only two minutes each. That’s right, TWO MINUTES each. What can you learn about someone in just two minutes? Turns out, quite a lot.

Ariel, my first date, is nervous as he fumbles with his drinks and makes small talk. I find this rather endearing and think him to be quite cute with his wire-rim glasses and middle-Eastern accent. He tells me he is a dentist and I find myself trying to cover my smile and thinking that he might just be perfect for me given my recently discovered adoration for pearly whites.

A bevy of men follow – Bob, Carlos, David, Edwin, Fred. I take notes furiously but am usually only able to make note of their profession or appearance, which seems to be the only way for me to keep track of them. I try not to rate them based only on appearances though as looks can be deceiving. Despite this, I can’t help but fall for Greg’s dazzling blue eyes and dimples, Harrison’s arms and shoulders that beg to be petted like a pet, and Ivan’s cool black Buddy Holly glasses and curly hair that my fingers itch to touch. I feel so shallow.

With regards to conversing, it is tough to fit much into one hundred and twenty seconds. But every once in awhile, I meet someone that I enjoy talking with so much that I am saddened when the bell tolls. Jason and I talk dogs and he offers up the name of a dogumentary that I might like. Kyle makes me laugh with his tales of hedge fund transactions gone awry. And, Lance draws me in with his Southern drawl and knowledge of where to find good Southern style food in the city.

If I do not feel a spark through appearance or conversation, I pass on the gents. And there are plenty that don’t make the grade. Mark rubs shoulders with me and asks what will make him stand out from the other guys. Ugh, the stink of competition puts me off. Neil is so bored that he literally stares at the wall behind me in silence. Oscar dashes off to use the bathroom during our two minute date and doesn’t have time to apologize. There is no doubt that Paul is gay with his Malibu Sea Breeze, well manicured nails, and continual references of his love for Madonna. While I support gay rights, I would rather stick to dating heterosexual males. Quincy says I look like Petty Paige (a compliment) and then asks me if I’m into kinky stuff like her (not a compliment). Roy is a personal trainer who I can practically feel calculating my BMI and the calories in my merlot. When I ask Sam what he likes to do for fun, he boldly says, “I like to have sex.” Enough said.

At the end of the night, I’m in need of a shot, a massage, and a bed, preferably in that order. Despite the exhaustion, I’ve met quite a few guys that I want to chat with further. In fact, I’ve decided to select about twenty of them. If they select me too, our contact information will be shared with each other. Overall, I am happy that I decided to try marathon speed dating at least once. Where else would I meet this many guys in one night? And, perhaps after fifty rounds, there will be a few fellows smitten enough to meet for coffee that goes well beyond two minutes.