I met Mr. Shakespeare at the aforementioned paid internet dating site. Mr. Shakespeare isn't a member, so we were rushing through the communication steps to obtain each other's contact. I usually don't have a problem with a guy not being a member. To me, the internet is just another channel where I meet guys. I find it easier to find guys to date on dating websites because, well, they are there to date. It takes the whole guessing work of "is he available" out of the questions.
A friend of mine consider guys who don't pay for subscription "too cheap to date". Some may be. But others may consider the cost and reward not proportional. For example, I've been on this paid dating website for a total of 9 months (with a break in the middle). I've only gotten maybe 3-5 dates. I've gotten way more dates on the free dating website. I am canceling my member soon. I don't blame the guys for not wanting to shell out $30 a month.
Anyway. Before I met Mr. Shakespeare we had a couple email exchange. I write like how I talk - very straight forward with very little pretense. He wrote like Shakespeare, in a bad way. I didn't feel romance or poety. Rather I felt pretenser. I mean, you can't just say "look forward to talking to you soon" instead of "look forward to continuing our correspondence"?? WTH?
But I met him anyway. Besides the writing style, he actually seemed like a decent intelligent guy. We met at a dessert place. I arrived early so I bought myself a cup of tea and a piece of dessert.
Mr. Shakespeare walked in, with a briefcase! It's Saturday, so I thought to myself: did he come from work? Why didn't he leave it in the car? Did he take a bus to work?
Well, actually, no he didn't come from work. The briefcase contains a book, some notes, and some music sheets "too precious to be left in the car". Honestly I was freaked out at the point. A guy who can't even risk leaving his briefcase in the car for a coffee date? What kind of life is that?
We talked for a long time. He was quite interesting. He does talk like he writes, analyzing every single word and trying to find the most suitable. The date ended with a hug.
The next day he emailed me and asked if I'd like to see him again. I said yes. Maybe those music sheets were hand-written by Mozart himself and leaving them in the car would not only be reckless but also disrespectful? So I suggested that we go on a hike in a famous state park in San Diego. I also suggested that we park at the City golf course parking lot and walk there.
The day before the hiking date he sent me an email saying that he'd rather park at the state park's parking lot, and that way he doesn't have to worry about his car being towed from the City golf course parking lot, and that he can contribute to the state park fund.
Okay. First, apparently those music sheets weren't Mozart's. Mr. Shakespeare is just paranoid. I had dealt with paranoia my entire life. Um. If you can't take a risk of leaving your car at a City golf course parking lot where half of the cars are parked by hikers, you won't be able to handle me. Because I would be the riskiest investment you will make, with the biggest return of course, but no less risky.
Secondly, I'd probably be okay if he had just flat out admit that he's paranoid. But the BS about wanting to contribute to the state park fund? Um, I sent the state park conservation fund a check. I am part of the Sierra Club. I contribute to the state park fund by actively doing so, not by parking at their parking lots once every decade. What's worse than being a pussy is that he's too pussy to admit he's a pussy.
So I sent back and email saying that my ankle hurts and probably should take a rain check. Hey if you can't be straight with me, I have no obligation to be straight with you. Mr. Shakespeare got the message and never contacted me again.
What I learned: political theories.
No more communication.
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