Smokey The Bear

One popular dating website that I’m a member of sends me guys everyday – that are supposedly matched to me using 29 dimensions of compatibility – whatever that means.  I’ve met a few nice guys on it, but ultimately we were just not romantic matches.

Enter Smokey the Bear.  40.  Silver fox.

I suffered through the 16 steps you have to endure before actually exchanging emails. And I was excited.  In his profile he said that people noticed “his voice” second after his looks.  Um, hello sexy?  Yes, indeed.  We spoke on the phone twice and his voice, low and raspy, made my knees quake.  He also claimed to be a lawyer and he plays bass in local and national bands.  What?!  Smart, successful and he can play music that would make me swoon??  I began DVRing “Say Yes to The Dress”…

We planned to meet one weeknight this winter.  Unfortunately, it started snowing and the roads were impassable.  I told him that we could postpone, but he insisted on meeting me and picking me up.  I said that while I normally never accept rides from strange men that I was pretty sure he wasn’t an axe murderer and accepted his offer.

I tried to look sexy and a little rock n’ roll with my jean mini skirt and black boots.  I even wore my Chanel perfume that I only bust out for special occasions.  Then I got his text.  He was outside!  Smelling good but nervous sweating just a little, I locked the door to my house and turned to walk to his car.  As I walked toward him he was on my side of the car, ready to open the door for me, snow falling all around.  Hello chivalry!

And then all of a sudden, the love fog began to lift.  He was handsome enough.  But behind him was a POS beater car circa 2002!  He was wearing a bomber jacket from 1992!  Wait, what decade was I in? I reluctantly got into his car and then - the stench of cigarette smoke choked my respiratory system!  I glanced down between the car seats and there was a disposable razor in a blue Solo cup.  Used.  I wanted to run but then his door opened and he got in.  I dared not let the back of my head touch the headrest for fear that my porous, just washed, flower scented hair would suck up the ashtray smell.

Luckily our destination was just a couple of blocks away.  I asked Bear to let me out at the door while he found a place to park – not because I was a wuss and didn’t want to walk in the snow, but because if I tried to hold my breath much longer I would literally die.

As I sat in Can Can waiting for him, I chugged a half a glass of very nice white wine.  I waited about 10-15 minutes.  As he walked in and sat down at the table with me, I smelled fresh cigarette smoke.  Seriously? The dude smoked another stogie on his walk from the car to the restaurant.  He took off that Member's Only jacket to reveal an old t-shirt with a pair of terrible fitting jeans with a black dress belt (the kind you wear with suits).  We started to talk and his voice was LOUD and DEEP.  So loud that I swear people around us were snickering.  So yes, I guess he was at least truthful in his profile about his voice.

After two drinks I said that we should probably go because I was afraid the snow was getting worse.  He seemed disappointed and said, “Are you sure?”  I said yes.

As we pulled up to my house, I gave him a quick side hug so he wouldn’t try anything.  He said to me, “Well if this doesn’t work out between you and I, I’d love to still be friends.”  I said okay, but knew that wasn’t going to happen. 

I shut his car door and walked swiftly into my house.  I stripped my clothes off as I ran up the stairs and got immediately into the shower. I washed my hair but the next day it still smelled like smoke.

He texted me later that night to say he had a good time and I didn’t text him back. 

Lesson #423: If he’s an old rocker and has a raspy voice, ask if he smokes.

Love,

Viveka

Oh but props to Can Can for having amazing French wine and cool bartenders that don't give me stink eye when I show up every other week with a new first date…