Week 5 – Super Bowl Sunday – Dud or Stud?

As America gets over Richard Sherman’s rant after his team’s NFC Championship win and sports enthusiasts’ amp up for the highest sports event of the year, I am getting ready for my next date. Date number five piqued my interest when he emailed me stating, “I wonder if you would consider meeting a really genuine, witty, smart, all around quality guy (oh yeah and handsome too)?” Okay, not a bad introduction because the norm is something like “Beautiful smile” or “Nice pic”. His originality scored points in my book. I checked out his photo and he was attractive, but what I noticed most was his dimples and infectious smile. We exchanged a few emails for a few days and decided it was time to chat.

When I first heard his voice, his accent reminded me of Matthew McConaughey’s in the movie A Time to Kill. It was full of Southern charm that hailed from a small town in Mississippi. His demeanor was very laid back and he seemed pretty down to earth. We both were foodies and he bragged about making the best ribs that I would ever taste (the secret was in his four ingredient rub).

“Hmmm…I will have to taste them in order to know for sure”, I teased.

For whatever reason, every man who talks about grilling thinks that he is the grill master. It’s a combination of testosterone and fire that gives them an inexplicable rush. I don’t quite comprehend, but I will stay in my lane and stick with more important details like side dishes, desserts, cocktails and wine.

“Actually, I am making them for my friend’s Super Bowl party on Sunday. She lives on your side of town, you should come,” he said.
A first date to be held at a Super Bowl party, that’s an interesting approach. It’s like bringing sand to the beach. You know lots of men will be there, why would you invite a woman that you’re meeting for the first time to a room full of options? Oh well, I graciously accepted his invitation.

Super Bowl Sunday finally came. My date texted me the address and his friend lived two miles away. Perfect. As I parked my car in front of his friend’s house, my phone rang. It was my date. Apparently, he left his phone at home and had to drive back to get it.
“No worries, I just got here” I assured him.

Some tall guy answered the door. I saw a group of people standing in the dining room and walked over to introduce myself as a friend of G. The hostess greeted me with a hug and accepted my bottle of vodka as a hostess gift. She introduced me as G’s friend and told me to make myself at home. As I wandered into the den, I noticed that there were very few women in attendance. As a matter of fact, there was an attractive guy front and center who asked me, “Where is your date?” as if he wanted to get to know me. Like I said, bringing sand to the beach.

I finally settled on the couch and struck up a conversation with a lady next to me. Seattle was shutting down Denver’s offense and the game was clearly one-sided. Eventually, her three-year-old son wandered over and sat next to me. Soon after, the hostesses’ son followed his lead and sat down as well. After entertaining the kids for a while, I glanced at my watch and noticed that I had been at the party for an hour and there was no sign of my date.

I decided to grab a bite to eat. As I turned the corner to walk into the kitchen, I bumped into my date. It was an awkward hello. I gave him a quick glance over. He looked different – a bit pudgier than his photo and no facial hair (I was really feeling his beard). We quickly embraced and he led me into the kitchen to try his famous ribs. They looked moist and well-seasoned (if they were dry, I would have claimed I was dieting). I grabbed two and a little barbecue sauce (he told me I wouldn’t need it) and headed back to my seat while G added some finishing touches to his baked beans. I sighed with relief that my Romper Room pals had finally retreated to their playroom. The aroma of the ribs was so enticing, I dug in. G was right, his ribs were amazing. If we were to date long-term, I would have to consistently train for a race so I could eat freely without gaining 15 pounds.

G finally joined me to watch the halftime show. We talked about the Super Bowl commercials, the lack of creatively and a need for more Black copywriters. He alluded to the fact that he was looking to change careers, maybe something in brand management. I never asked what he did for a living, but I could gather that he was in transition and was still trying to figure it out.

It was an unseasonably warm winter day and everyone started complaining that it was hot. Denver was being annihilated and nobody bothered to watch the game. My date and I decide to step outside for some fresh air. We made small talk, nothing really worth mentioning. I retrieved my purse from the house and G and I headed toward my car.

“This is where I walk you to your car, never to hear from you again,” he said without cracking a smile. Either this man is insecure or he is running game.

Am I supposed to respond, “No, I’m going to call you tomorrow. I want to see you again.”

Instead, I decided to play along and said while laughing, “Yep, that‘s exactly what I’m going to do.” I know…I can be an asshole sometimes.

We hugged goodbye and I drove home. My date wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. There was no real connection. It wasn’t the type of date where you don’t want it to end. Honestly, I haven’t felt that way in years. Am I being unrealistic? It really does not matter because, at the end of the day, I have to live with my decision.

And I can do just that.

2 thoughts on “Week 5 – Super Bowl Sunday – Dud or Stud?

  1. You aren’t being unrealistic. I admire your honesty. I’m the type that tends to go out on another date with the ‘just okay’ guy, just because. It’s better to cut losses early on so I don’t waste my time or his.

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