Baby got back

About a week went by after the rather ridiculous date with Mr. Clean. I was receiving messages from members and actively sending them daily. It was very exciting. With all this attention, Mr. Right-for-Me could be as close as the next send button. I began a series of interactions with a young, intelligent Army officer stationed at the base just an hour away. There are quite a few military personnel as a result and the male-to-female ratio excellent for the ladies. The base town isn't much to be spoken about. I have to admit that I've never been there, but have been specifically told to stay out. I've never heard anyone living there say something nice about it. The weekends are a great opportunity for the young men to flock to the city looking for adventure. While I've sworn off anyone who makes, enforces, or advises on the laws, Mr. Special Operations Officer was too tempting.

We exchanged numbers and immediately began texting. It was really ridiculous. The copious amount of texts led to an, "Oh, shit!" moment for me by day two when I realized I was about 11 texts from running over my 1,000 per month allotment. Of course, I quickly upgraded. Four thousand texts in less than five days. We "talked" from morning, through the day (hey, I get an hour for lunch), until we both dozed off. He was witty, sarcastic, intelligent. A graduate of West Point, he was a baby at 26, but had served two tours in Afghanistan and one in Iraq. He was in a language school to learn Pashto, jumped out of planes on occasion, and had a firm belief in the military making positive change in the world. He was interested in me, my crazy hobbies, my work in education. I really liked him-- so much that I wondered how it would work out when he is transferred to Flordia in a year. I know, my silly girl nature was being an idiot. I hadn't even met him. I laughed so much. And he actually appreciated my blunt and usually profane nature.

On about day two, maybe three, he asked me to dinner the following Friday. I was still very new to the area and didn't know a lot about the restaurants. We both love ethnic food. I did a search and discovered global streetfood restaurant right downtown. It was on! We talked about how excited we were to meet. I find it so appealing when someone wants to spend time with me that sometimes I don't see anything of issue. Mr. Special Operations Officer was into fitness, which is only natural for someone in his line of employment. However, he had made several comments about how his last girlfriend "let herself go". Of course, I say I hope someone points that out to me. It was clear (even though I didn't see it) that this guy had a real problem if a woman puts on any weight.

Now, those of you who know me know that, "Baby Got Back" was written for me. My body is shaped liked my mom's side... tiny waste, luscious booty. I've been a runner, I kickbox, belly dance, and keep pretty fit, but my ass is my partner for life. Most men like it. But not this man. He was running late, which I excused because he was driving an hour to see me and traffic anywhere near downtown from 4:30 to about 7:30 can be a beast. I knew as soon as he arrived that the date would not go well. I was wearing my favorite classic black dress that accentuates my booty. Mr. Special Operations Officer was not impressed. He pinched up his face and barely spoke during the five-block walk to the restaurant and during the meal itself. I tried to make jokes to no avail. I couldn't figure out how someone goes from sending a thousand texts a day to being mute, but hey, I can't even begin to unlock the mind of an xy chromosome. It all became clear when our server asked us about dessert. Fatty here orders the chocolate souffle. I had talked about chocolate multiple times (My heart still grieving for The French Broad Chocolate Lounge). Turns out, he doesn't like chocolate and doesn't eat dessert. And judging from the comments he made next and the look of absolute disgust, he was appalled that I ordered the souffle. I guess my size 4 ass didn't need to have dessert. I am not one to hold back when someone exhibits keen asshole behavior, but this was an upscale place, the food was divine, and I had a sangria the size of my face. What did I do? Did I deck him? Did I call him an ass and stick up for women around the world who are constantly held to some waif-like portrayal of women? No. I did what any classy Fierce Southern Lady would do, I smiled really sweet, then I ate every bite of that souffle-for-two and licked the spoon. After all, if someone cannot enjoy the beauty of dessert, what other pleasurable aspects of life would he snub his nose at? I'm thinking that's perhaps another non-negotiable to add to the list. We said good-bye (after he paid for my gluttony). Then I promptly deleted him.