The Fortune Teller
- Jul 22, 2015
- 3 min read
He knows what he wants out of a relationship, and he apparently knows exactly what you want too. Fasten your seat-belts for this one.
"His profile appeared harmless…
I did a three-month trial of an online dating site in spring 2014, and went on a handful of nondescript dates until one particularly magical first date at a brew pub in New Jersey (which was also the last date). His profile appeared harmless- middle of the road on politics and religion, not previously married, no kids, has a job, good looking… basically, the best I could hope for.
Surprisingly, he brought up politics immediately after we sat down, and the more he said, the faster it became abundantly clear that his neutral online profile was total shit. Not only that, we had polarizing views on the topics he was bringing up, so I switched to talking about work. He works for an HBO show which I admitted I had never seen, and he detailed all of his exotic travels, name dropping the entire time (which went over my head). He segued into talking about his salary, which allowed him to buy a gigantic home in an expensive area, so I resisted an eye-roll and politely asked about the house.
He told me he was in the middle of redoing a trellis, or something, in his garden (I don’t know, I rent), and then he said, “I want to finish my basement, but I have a lot of boxes down there.”
Me: “You’re still unpacking from your move?”
Him: “No, the boxes are full of baby clothes.”
Me: ((chokes on beer)) “Why do you have boxes of baby clothes in your basement?”
Him: “Once my friends got married and started having babies, I was feeling a little behind. When their kids grew out of their baby clothes, they gave me the clothes so I don’t have to buy all new ones when I start a family.”
Me: ((nods and tries to focus on the positives: he’s financially responsible, recycles, has friends)) “That… sounds like a lot of clothes.”
Him: “Yeah! When I get married, I’m going to start having a lot kids right away. I’m going to have a BIG family.”
Me: ((silent screams)) “Uhh huh. That sounds like a lot of fun for your wife!”
Him: “Well, she’s going to want a big family, too. That’s what you want, right?”
Me: “No, I really don’t have a desire to have kids. It’s just not something I’ve ever wanted…”
We were sitting side-by-side at the bar. At this moment, he turned to me, got really close to my face, and I saw his hand slowly moving toward my pants region. What the hell is he about to… OHDEARGOD. He PATS MY ABDOMEN and says, “Just you wait. You’ll get baby fever, and stares at me critically as if he were a fortune teller. “I give it one year! All women come around, and you will, too. You’ll see.”
Hold up. Did homeboy just disregard my feelings on children as a silly feminist delusion? WHILST PATTING MY UTERUS? ((Actually screams!))
Even the bartender looked horrified, as he cleaned a glass in front of us… and kept cleaning it… and kept cleaning, while looking at me with this terrified RUN! look in his eyes.
Me: “Yeah. So. We clearly don’t connect on a very important issue.”
He started to protest, so I nicely explained that we were different on a very important fundamental issue, thanked him for the beer, and left. I didn’t hear from him again. In retrospect, the only regret I have from that day was not asking for the bartender’s number on my way out. And in case you were wondering, here I am one year later, and my tiny female brain still does not desire kids, despite his expert prediction. Who would have thunk it?
~Liza
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