To say that you get a lot of emails on free dating sites would be an understatement. So I went through them, ruling out the weirdos, the too young, too old, even too military and the random kinky couple with an indecent proposal. And then there was Mr. Rogers. A “non-Hispanic” man who seemed interesting enough. This could be fun, I thought. Especially since I’ve never dated anyone that wasn’t Cuban.
So, I answered him. That night we went back and forth, chatting and getting to know each other a little better. He asked to hear my voice, weird how these days we’d so often prefer to text, so I called him. Restricted, of course (you never know). We talked for about an hour, the conversation flowed much smoother that I expected. So when he asked to meet for coffee the next day, I obliged.
At this point I didn’t really know what to expect, dating was never my strong suit. Awkward is much more my thing.
I got there before he did, surprising, I know!
He finally gets there, he parks right next to me. First impressions, right? Hey, is that Mr. Rogers? I mean, sure, Mr. Rogers was a nice neighbor and all but still. He wore jeans, a jacket and Keds. Sweet as his blue eyes seemed, I knew that being alone with this guy would not be a smart move. I’m usually pretty good at scoping out serial killer potential, or so I’ve always thought, but maybe I missed something here.
I mean, it’s not like I came in expecting this immediate deep connection, but I was hoping for some kind of connection. Not creepy Ted Bundy style vibes. Needless to say, Mr. Rogers and I didn’t go past that night.