The second bad date

This date started out very well, but oddly. I'd met Lou on an internet dating site (the same one where I met Johnny). He sent me a very funny email that had me laughing out loud. After his name he'd included reviews of the messge, which I thought was extremely clever. As soon as I got it, I asked him to call me and he did, later the same day. Our first conversation was very interesting and rapid fire. He was bright and inquisitive, asked me tons of questions, but not the usual ones. He was curious and wanted my take on all kinds of philosophical things as well as personal things. He had a lot to say too and listening to him made me think, as well as gave me lots of things to say too. The time went quickly, and I had to be somewhere but he made me late because he wouldn't end the conversation. We made a tentative plan, but also planned to talk again, which we did the next day.

The next conversation went on for hours and kept me up late. It was compelling and funny and it made me feel very close to him. We confided in each other, he wanted me to explain sociological concepts to him. It ranged the gamut from intellectual, to joking, to storytelling, to introspection. It was engaging and exhausting and fun. I was tired the next day, and I went around in something of a daze. That night, my head was full of Lou when I went out on my date with Robert.

The next day, we had tentatively planned to meet in the afternoon. We talked in the morning and the conversation, again, went on and on. It became clear that we would have to change the meeting time. He seemed to hesitate and not want to meet. I didn't understand what the problem was. How could he not want to meet? We took a break and he called me back. He wanted to know more about me and I had to convince him that I was serious and I wasn't some flight-by-night…what, exactly, I'm not sure. But I remember clearly working very hard to convince him that I was really what I seemed to be--honest, straightforward, smart--and that we should still meet. Eventually, we agreed to a time, 8pm, and a bar in Cleveland Park.

I took the metro there, sat in the back without a drink, and read my book. He was late and I was nervous. He finally arrived and I recognized him, but he wasn't as attractive as his picture. He was short, maybe my height (5"5'), he was pale and slope shouldered with dark brown hair--thick hair, brushed forward, but a little greasy and lank. He wore slightly rumpled black cotton twill pants and a grey tweed sport jacket. Underneath the jacket, he had a black v-neck sweater and no shirt. I didn't care for that. I looked at him and shook his slightly moist hand. I thought, he might become more attractive once we begin talking. I didn't rule him out. He was obviously nervous.

He couldn't sit still. He went to get us drinks. He complained that they didn't make his drink right. He drank it, though. We slowly started talking. I was a little quiet; certainly quieter than I'd expected to be. It was going fairly well, but not great. I tried to match up the person in front of me with the person I'd spent so many hours with on the phone. I was experiencing some cognitive dissonance. He started to tell me about the book he was working on. He had invented (he claimed) a new philosophy and he started to explain it to me. (Unfortunately, the details have escaped me.) I thought, "either he is truly mad, or he is brilliant, or both." I thought, "some of the great thinkers in the world were insane." Lou was clearly nuts, but I wasn't sure if he was full of crap or actually had a good idea. It was a little fascinating. It was a puzzle. He had another drink. I declined a second one.

He started talking more and faster. He started to rant. He began a political polemic about the oppressed working-class white man. "Why should we support helping them [blacks]? That just hurts us. They put my father in jail." I couldn't quite follow what he was saying, but it was very offensive. He taunted me, asking if he had bothered my liberal ideals. And this was why Bush was president, because of people like him and how they felt. I did agree with that. But I was more and more confused. Did he believe his polemic, or was he trying to make some kind of point? I was upset and I wouldn't engage. I was very close to leaving. What kept me was a hope (or was it curiosity?) that the person who I was expecting to meet would show up. He expressed admiration that I hadn't left. This pleased me, but I don't think I stayed for the reasons he thought I had. He calmed down. I was relieved. He got another drink.

The conversation took a melancholy turn. He kept talking and told me how sad and lonely he was. He asked how he was ever going to find anyone. The bar was getting louder and smokier (he was smoking too) and I wanted to leave. I wanted to get him out of there. I told him we should go. He seemed offended. He thought I was ending the date. I said, "we can go to my place, but you can't drive. I could drive your car." He laughed. "You'll drive?" I said, "Why not, I'm a good driver." He obviously didn't like the idea. I said, "I'll take a cab home or the metro, but I'm not letting you drive me anywhere. But, I don't mind driving your car home. That way, you're still giving me a ride." He eventually, reluctantly, agreed.

We left and on the way out he stopped in the men's room. While I waiting for him, some folks stopped and asked me if I'd lost glasses. At first I didn't understand them, since I was wearing my glasses, I thought maybe they meant drink glasses. I touched my glasses and I said, no. The woman in the group said, we found some, over there, weren't you sitting there? I said yes but they weren't mine. She said ok and went up to the bar.

Lou came out and we left. We walked down the street and he was really short--at least an inch shorter than me. I didn't care. He was sad and talking about it. I didn't know what to do. I felt similar to the way I'd felt back in the bar after his rant--full of compassion for him and sorrow. We stopped walking and I wrapped my arms around him. He held on tight and we just stood there for a minute. He'd been on the verge of tears, but calmed down. We kept going to the car. He still seemed very doubtful that I could drive his car, but drive it I did and it was fine. He was surprised at my driving skills and the fact that I knew where I was going and he apologized for his earlier doubts.

I invited him in, which I think was never in question. The first thing he did was get down on the floor and play with my cat, Samantha, for about fifteen minutes. While I was a little jealous, it recommended him to me in a way that his other behavior had not. I figured he couldn't be all bad or crazy if he was so good with the kitty. It was impressive. He complimented her expansively on her good behavior (she was biting hime like crazy as he taunted her with his hands, but she didn't scratch him once, which he found to be very impressive). I sat on the couch and watched, not sure what to think.

Eventually, he sat next to me on the couch. I kissed him. The kissing was fine, but definitely more my idea than his. I stopped. He lay on his back. He was mumbling about something and then he fell asleep and started to snore. I laughed, eventually. I waited a few minutes to see if he would wake up. I also found his wallet on the floor and put it on the coffee table, along with some change that had fallen out of his pocket. I wanted to go to sleep, so I poked him a little to wake him up. He was startled and asked what happened. I said, you were asleep and snoring. He said, I do snore. I said, you can sleep here if you like.
L: On the couch?
J: Well, I won't get any sleep otherwise with the snoring.
L: Why do you want me to stay?
J: It would probably be better if you didn't drive home…and you're tired.
L: Is that it? It's not a good enough reason.
J: What do you want me to say? You know you shouldn't drive.
L: I don't care. I'm fine. I'm not staying here for you to feel sorry for me.
J: Fine. You better leave.
L: I'm leaving.
J: Wait, don't leave this.
I held up his wallet. I suppose it looked like I was just handing him change, which was resting on top of the wallet. He knocked the change down and said, "Why are you giving me that?"
I said, "It's your wallet. Take it." He took it and left.

I was thinking, I probably won't see him again, but at least it was interesting. He might really be crazy, or an alcoholic.

I went to sleep around 1am. At 3am the phone rang and I answered it. It was Lou. He said, "Do you have my glasses?"
J: What?
L: My glasses. Did I leave my glasses?
J: No. I don't have any glasses.
L: Are you sure? Do you have my glasses?
J: Wait, maybe they are in the bar.
He hung up. I was astonished. The phone rang again in less than a minute.

L: It's me, it's me, I'm sorry.
J: Look, I think your glasses are in the bar…(I explained about the conversation I'd had while he was in the men's room).
L: So you don't have them?
J: No, I think you have to go back to the bar. They are probably there.
L: Ok, sorry, sorry.
And he hung up without saying goodbye.

Unfortunately, I was now almost completely awake. I sat up in bed and waited for him to call again, which he did, though it took a little bit longer this time.
L: It's me, it's Lou.
J: You have to stop calling me at 3am. This is the last time I'm going to answer the phone. Is there anything you need to talk about?
L: Why did you have my wallet?
J: What?
L: You had my wallet. Why did you have it?
J: It fell out of your pocket so I gave it to you.

And he hung up. I never heard from him again.