The First Anthropology Professor

Let me begin by saying, I am not a big fan of online dating. Oh, I was at the start. All I could think of was, YES! This is going to be just like with men of every type, shape and size, and every one of them waiting just for me. All I have to do is pick the one I want and BAM! success. I’ll be going out every night with some gorgeous, fantastically interesting man. Eventually, I’ll find the one I want to keep and he will be so honored by this fact that of course he’ll happily agree to spend the rest of our lives together.

After about a month, I exited Disneyland and reality struck me. Online dating is a lot of persistent hard work, embarrassments, mis-communications and disappointments…so far. But I’m still optimistic. I’m not bitter.

So let’s begin at the beginning – the first guy, a professor at a local university with a Doctorate in Anthropology. Darren. Nice guy, saw my picture on some dating site and by the time he went back to contact me, I had removed my profile. He called the company who ran the site and bribed them for my contact info – or so he said. I wasn’t sure I believed him; sounded pretty sketch to me.

We met at a park outside an art museum. I arrived first and was waiting on a bench outside the front entrance to the museum.

He walked up to me and said, “Wow, it’s nice to finally meet someone who isn’t six axe handles wide.”

I looked up at him and said, “Excuse me?”

It wasn’t a question, it was a thinly veiled suggestion that he might want to rethink that as an opener because my continued interest in this endeavor was dropping with every word he spoke.

“Well, the women I meet from dating sites are usually fat,” he said dumbly.

What a charmer, this one. I was already regretting the afternoon.

We saw some of the exhibits and then went outside again to sit on a sunny bench and talk. He told me all about his messy divorce – oh joy – and every other unpleasant thing that had happened in his life. He couldn’t wait to tell me about what a lying, cheating bitch his ex-wife was. The day they came to repossess the family car because she’d spent the money allotted for the car payment on some bauble, he asked her why and she grabbed his crotch, suggesting they go upstairs. Whoa, way too much info professor. This was only our first date! I started shifting and looked at my watch to suggest it was time to go.

He walked me to my car and said, “And now I’m going to kiss you.”

He did and it was about as lifeless as you’d expect it would be when you’re informed of the pending act beforehand.

We saw each other a few times. He talked non-stop about his latest book that he either had just finished or was about to start. I can’t remember or maybe there was more than one. The conversations were dry and made me feel like going comatose, but I made myself give this a try, because, well, that’s what you do. At 34, you can’t keep making snap judgements – or at least that’s what I thought at the time.

After three or four dates that all blended into each other, I knew Darren had to go. My philosophy is basically, who cares? I can get a new man anytime, anywhere. There’s always been another one right around the next turn. When things go sour, a voice in my head just says, “Next.”

You know though, I think my whole dating life has been colored by something that happened just before I turned 20.

My brother was dating this blonde, doe-eyed simp named Jessica. I couldn’t stand her. She was very shy and insecure. You know the type – pathetic. I took pleasure in harassing her whenever she called to speak to my brother. Jessica was such a chump. She was terrified of me so she’d hang up immediately. This was right before cell phones made texting easy and all of this happened on a land line. Eventually, I knew that her innocent, naïve thing was an act. They were doing it big time, although I figured my brother for her first.

So apparently, one night after she’d had a fight with my brother, she was out at a club with a few of her girlfriends. I was dating a big handsome stud named Tony at the time. I think I always knew Tony was a cheater, but I didn’t want to face it. I was about to have it shoved right in my face.

I guess Tony remembered seeing Jessica a couple of times at our house and he must have liked what he saw. He waited until she’d had a couple of drinks and asked her to dance. She said no and asked him where I was. He told her I was working. I guess Jessica felt uncomfortable and said she had to go. Mr. Chivalry followed her out to her car – to be sure she covered all of the 100 feet safely. When she unlocked her car door, he turned her around quick and planted a wet, throaty kiss right on her mouth. She smiled, pushed him away and quickly got into her car, shutting her door on his libido. Can you believe it? What a wimp. She wasn’t interested, undoubtedly because she was afraid of me, but she couldn’t even stand up for herself!

Then to make matters worse, she felt so uncomfortable that she had to tell my brother who of course had to tell me. But here’s the worst part. I wanted to kill her, not Tony. Oh, we broke up later of course, even a blind man could have seen that one coming. But it had to play out and I didn’t break up over the incident with Jessica. Why? Because he told me she lied and was all over him, and I believed him. Who was the real chump there huh? But again, why? Because I loved him…and you know what? That’s the last time I ever let myself love someone like that – blindly. Come to think of it, that was the last time I ever loved anyone, period.

Henna Morris Written by:

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