Bachelor Number 3

Bachelor Numero Tres: The Fizzler

There once was a boy named Caleb. Caleb sent me a message on OkCupid. His photo wasn't bad, his profile was better, and his witty messages won me over. When he finally worked up the courage to ask me out to dinner I happily agreed. And so, on a Wednesday night we met at Abuelo's. (Strike #1)

If you don't know Abuelo's: The Flavor of Mexico, I'm a little surprised. To put it simply, there are about 40 locations nationwide and they are often located directly next to a P.F. Chang's. Now don't get me wrong, for a chain restaurant, it's good. But we aren't in Bricktown in Oklahoma City. We are in Madison, a town with hundreds of small, interesting, and creative restaurants to choose from. Instead, Caleb chose an over sized Mexican restaurant with dishes on the menu named Salmon Santa Cruz and Durango Burrito, with an entire page labeled Fajitas Fabulosas.

I got myself in the car, drove the 25 minutes out to Middleton, and got off the highway to find Abuelo's sandwiched between a Ruth's Chris Steak House, P.F. Chang's and Quaker Steak & Lube. I went inside and was not at all surprised to find how large everything was. Similar to the humongous horses of P.F. Chang's, or the 25-foot ceilings in The Cheesecake Factory, everything in Abuelo's was over sized. There was a fountain in the middle of the restaurant, and I will conservatively estimate that it was 12 feet in diameter.

I pulled my favorite move, showed up for the date about 15 minutes early, sat at the bar and ordered a drink. I ordered a Dos Equis. I felt like a child having a tea party with my parent's glassware, too large for my hands, when the bartender handed me the hugest beer in the heaviest glass I have ever felt. Great. Now I am going to look like some kind of crazy drinker when Mr. Number Three shows up and sees my swimming pool of beer. I sipped slowly, using both hands, of course.

Caleb was ten minutes late. (Strike #2)

I checked my telephone. The text message read: "I'm here. Let me know when you get here." I quickly glanced around the empty room, triple-checking the faces of the twelve patrons crazy enough to drive to Middleton to eat while being scattered around "The Flavor of Mexico." No, I didn't see Caleb. I texted him back: "I'm sitting at the bar."

Thirty seconds later, he walked through the doors.

He walked up to the bar introduced himself and said, "I was sitting in my car waiting for you to get here."

Sitting in your car? What a weirdo! You couldn't have walked inside alone?! 

Let it go, Meaghan. Give him a chance. Give him a chance. Be nice.

"Oh, haha. I have been here for a little while and I didn't check my phone! Whoops! Let's get a table."

We walked around the gigantic fountain while I carefully cradled my pool of beer with two hands. We sat down in a booth large enough to hold a party of ten comfortably and the waitress handed us our gigantic menus. Before I could look at the dishes offered I thought about what kind of printer must be used to print the menus. Does each restaurant have their own printer? How much would a printer like that cost? What size paper is this? Huge by Exceptionally large? Do they special order the paper?

Caleb was talking.

I snapped out of my concern with eating in a restaurant designed for giants, and started participating in the date.

The conversation flowed well, but not impressively. Caleb has a college education, a good job, a good family, friends, and he lives at home. Red flag! Red flag! 27 and living at home? And why? Because his lease ended and he decided to save money by living at home? Where do his parents live? Over 45 minutes outside of Madison! (Strike #3)

I ate way too much Mexican food, as the portions were scaled to match the menus, fountains and general decor. And when we embraced in an awkward one armed side hug outside of the restaurant I realized that through all of my outrageous judgements Caleb had managed to come out the other side unscathed and not half bad. We said goodbye, went to our respective cars and drove the twenty-five minutes home in opposite directions.

Within forty minutes I had a text message from Caleb telling me he had a great time.

Fifteen minutes later he asked me on a second date.

The invitation made me smile, so I said yes. (Apparently in my game, you are allowed more than three strikes)

When the day of our second date came around I was very excited to see him again. After a week of exchanging text messages I was looking forward to giving Caleb a second chance. I am always extremely nervous for dates and I'm sure I don't act like myself, maybe we both needed a second chance to see how things would go. Obviously living at home with his parents was a big no-no, but for the right guy, maybe even I could make an exception. Maybe.

At 10:37 am I received a text message.

"I'm so sorry, but I won't be able to do dinner tonight. I stayed home from work. I'm really sick. I'm sorry."

Shoot!

When he sent the text, I was really bummed. I had been looking forward to the date.

After that, we continued texting, he asked me out to dinner again, but the night he asked me I already had plans (read: another date).

I never made an effort to plan another night or text him back with any type of urgency or consistency. Texting is terrible. Then you put only one date into the relationship, and the texting is borderline painful.

Over the next week and some change the texts became less frequent. The last one he sent me was one week ago. I never responded.

The Fizzler.

Next!