Here is a brief rundown of what all has happened.
1. I broke my foot pretty badly back in August of 2012. It required two surgeries, the first in October and the second in January 2013. I've spent countless hours at doctor appointments and in physical therapy, but I'm pretty much back to "normal."
2. I lost my job in November, in the midst of recovering from my first surgery. The job market is tough and I'm still looking. Prayers are appreciated.
3. Two of my best friends decided to sign me up for some online dating sites as a joke. One site was a miserable flop. The second site provided some awkward dates, but led me to the man that I think is my perfect match. We will get to him soon. (He will probably be a reoccurring theme in future posts. You've been warned.)
For this post, I want to travel back in time and tell you about one of my most awkward match.com first dates. Fasten your seatbelts.
Brad found me on match.com and we started exchanging messages. We progressed to the point of exchanging phone numbers and began casually texting. Brad was very attractive, tall, and blonde. He seemed to have a decent personality, from what I could tell. We agreed to meet for a "first date" one night downtown. I picked the place. It was a fun sports bar and I thought it was a good low-key way to get to know one another. When I arrived, it was pouring down rain. I was still confined to a walking boot, which is sure to make any cute outfit look unfortunate. We met at the bar and began to look over their massive beer list. I generally stick to what I know, because I'm certainly no expert when it comes to beer. A large-chested bartender sauntered up to take our orders. Brad proceeds to flirt with the bartender, while coyly asking for her recommendations. She admitted that she really likes Bud Light. Shocker. He said that was also his favorite. He then proceeded to ask if they had anything that was basically a "fancy Budweiser." Really?! She said there is this great beer called Stella, and "it's like the fanciest Budweiser." I think I died right there. Over drinks, I tried to make casual conversation, even though it was clear that this date was headed nowhere at a very rapid pace. Brad proceeded to tell me about how he got his job through nepotism, how much he hates Greenville, and regaled me with drunken tales from previous weekends. Fail. At the end of the night, we parted ways. The rain had not let up. Brad did not even offer to see me to my car. Clearly, I did not call Brad ever again. Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I spotted a familiar face in the checkout line at the grocery store. It was Brad. Guess what he was purchasing? The fanciest Budweiser, Stella.