Man-dals...

Day 4: Man-dals… (aka. Man Sandals… aka. Man Slippers) ***Post inspired by MC***

Good day to all… We are having a much-welcomed gloomy, rain filled day in southern California.

As you might have assumed by now, the posts will be on recess during the weekends. The precious days of Saturday and Sunday will be used to live life and experience great times.

Well, I must say I’m completely overwhelmed by online dating. Not three days in and I’ve received an entirely too many emails and interests. Thirty-five emails and over 90 interested “nudges”. Hmmm…

35 emails X 3 replies = 105 emails total
105 X average 5 min per response = 525min
525 min = 8.75 hours? (Holy crap! I’ll be spending more time on the computer than actual dates!)

A brilliant boost for my ego, I must say, felt as though I needed a “collar to pop”. Until, I hurled back down to reality when I realized my profile was simply on the “new fish” list. So it wasn’t my magnificent smile or witty sense of humor? I suppose being the fresh meat isn’t all too bad. I’ve utilized my Sunday to actually take the time and look through these profiles. People are all interesting in their own special ways I suppose. It’s hardly easy to put your best foot forward in a simple email or explain the reasons behind being a great catch in a couple short paragraphs. If anyone is considering online dating as well, please heed my warning… Double-check your message prior to hitting the little send button! Do it! Just do it!! Not only for spelling, grammar errors, but also review the content, even if you’re sending the same template email to all potentials. I received by far the most sincere email over weekend. Practically melted my tar-covered heart into pudding within minutes. That is until it ended with, “We should really grab coffee sometime Jane.” My name is not Jane…

Now onto the main subject of the day, Man-dals…

Mid August of last year, under the encouragement of friends and family, I forced myself to start dating again. Well, actually only one date which despaired me from venturing on another until the New Year. Mr. Man-dals and I met at a party, hardly could call it love at first sight; however, he didn’t cause any such feelings of regurgitation on my part. I accepted his kind invitation to coffee, lunch, dinner, or drinks with only slight hesitations. I accept all responsibility towards this failure of a date, partly because I had yet to be fully functional single person again, partly due to my cynicism, and mostly from unnatural dislike of man-slippers.

We agreed to meet at a restaurant in between our two worlds. Upon exiting my vehicle, he greeted me with an inviting smile and a warm hug. At which time, my eyes casually glanced towards the floor to behold a horrid sight… The Man-dals. The seconds turned to minutes, the minutes turned to hours as I stared at the callus beaten feet, the yellowing nails of which could pass for a ninety-year-old woman who had been smoking cigarettes with her right foot, and the black toe jam crammed in between the crevices of the under-nail. I attempted a pathetic smile for my own greeting as the top right corner of my mouth twitched in objection. I can only remember sporadic details of the conversation during lunch. I can however, remember every nervous shake of Mr. Man-dal’s outstretched foot piercing out from underneath the table. At this point it dawned on me, I am, myself a horrible date. I completely wrote this person off for something a simple pedicure and a trip to the shoe store could easily fix. I decided then and there, I would become a better first date. I listened to his stories vigilantly, and engaged myself fully into the conversation. He wasn’t a bad guy… Before the end of lunch, Mr. Man-dals had downed five Black label whiskies on ice. I thought he quite possibly could be trying to drink away the pain from a horrible date, but he did ask me to have coffee after lunch. This time around I didn’t pass any sort of judgment. Being a one shot wonder, I couldn’t fathom how he could still be functional. He wasn’t. The alcohol caught up to him during coffee at Starbucks. At which time slurring slang and curses followed with stories of his “baby’s mama.” She never appreciated him and thought he drank excessively. “See,” he said while repeatedly touching his index fingers to his nose, “I can handle my drink.” A speckle of saliva hit me in the eye. At this point, I’ve thought of at least a dozen different scenarios to end the date quickly. The most effective one being where I would jam the coffee straw into my eyeball forcing myself to the ER stat. I aborted the mission on the possibility of Mr. Man-dals following me to the hospital after I had done such an act. Well, time will always pass and dates will most definitely come to an end. We walked back to our cars and called it a night, not before he courteously asked me to escort him into a CVS to purchase alcohol because he ran out at home.

I have to believe we will all encounter our perfect other half eventually, even Mr. Man-dals. One day the perfect girl with skills of carving out toe-jam will enter his life and they will live happily ever after.

Another story from my life… Now, back to replying to emails…