Writer's Workshop: Troll Guy

Writer’s Workshop time… head over to Mama’s Losin’ It for details. This week I chose the prompt:

‘Tell us about a memorable blind date.’

Though it was difficult to choose which memorable (and by ‘memorable’ I mean ‘terrible’) date to tell you about, I settled on Troll Guy (yes, they all get names and yes, his was appropriate).

Back in October, I did a post about an email I received from Troll Guy. Many of you found it funny (strange how you all seem to laugh at my frequent misfortunes… it’s really not nice, you know) and several of you asked me to tell you more about him. Here you go...

I met Troll Guy online. Yes, I’ve done the whole Match.com thing. Don’t judge (or laugh). I’m a single mom who works from home and other than my (ultra conservative) family and their (ultra conservative friends), I knew no one when I moved here. The Pigsknuckle dating pool is more like a puddle and since the idea of having sex again before I die appeals to me, I put my Wellies on from time to time and splash around.

There was no splashing with Troll Guy.

He seemed normal. At first. He had a bunch of photos posted and he assured me they were recent. He was pretty average looking, which was fine, as 1) I'm not looks-oriented, and 2) I think I’m pretty average looking. We talked via email for a while – longer than I normally do, but he was chatty (and we all know I'm chatty) and it just sort of progressed. As it seemed we had quite a bit in common, we agreed to meet at a restaurant downtown one evening for an early dinner and then go for a walk at the university arboretum. Note that we did not speak on the phone before meeting.

Now, I might be weird in this, but I like first dates. I spent a good portion of my career interviewing people and I’m good at it. I’m also good at being interviewed (I’ve been offered every job for which I’ve ever applied). And I see first dates as interviews. They don’t bother me; I usually don’t get nervous; I’m good at putting other people at ease. So I pretty much always anticipate an enjoyable time.

Sometimes I'm a moron.

So, I got to the restaurant a little early. There was no one else there (he wanted to eat at the geriatric hour because, I found out later, he expected us to hit it off and he wanted our date to last a very long time). I sat facing the stairs he’d have to come up, so I caught sight of him before he saw me...

Ohhhhhhh… no. Nope. Can’t be. Can it? No. Please don’t let it be.

Well, crap.

First impressions mean a lot, don’t they? OK, let me backtrack a bit and describe the Troll Guy I saw in the photos… about 6 feet tall; dark, greying hair, cut short; average build; nice smile.

Now, let me describe the Troll Guy I met in person… possibly 6 feet tall, however, as a distance runner who did absolutely no upper body work, he was sort of concave, which made him slouch and appear approximately 5 inches shorter; longish hair, dyed a strange yellow-orangey color (a color not found in nature); his head perpetually tilted at a peculiar upward angle, which caused him to have to always look down his nose; one tooth missing (not a front one, thank God).

Again, to be really clear, I’m not looks-oriented at all. I’m not. I have no ‘type’ and I tend to be attracted to men who are not conventionally attractive. I’m all about personality and sense of humor and intelligence and kindness. Yeah, they have to be attractive, too… attractive to me. That can mean 1,000 different things and I don’t know from one date to the next what those things will be.

But Troll Guy’s looks? Not even the best (and by ‘best’ I mean ‘worst’) part…

Remember how I said we hadn’t spoken on the phone before we met? Yeah. Well, if we had, we wouldn’t have had a date. He looked down at me, grinned a gappy grin, held out his hand, and said, “Hi, Diane! I’m Troll Guy.” (Except he used his real name). And he sounded like…

An elf.

It was the most bizarre voice I have ever heard come out of a human man. High and squeaky with a hint of nasal whine. Bizarre. The voice of an elf. The face of a troll. Oh, and he brought me a bouquet of daisies… daisies dyed in neon colors. Swear.To.God. So it wasn't even like I could pretend it was a business dinner or something. It was clear... to all who would see us that evening... it was a date.

It was not going well. And that was only the first 5 minutes.

So I made the best of it (and by 'made the best of it' I mean 'I drank'). And I listened, trying not to cringe outwardly at his elf voice, as he over-shared to an alarming degree and told me things I had no business knowing on the first date. Or the 10th date. And I drank some more. When I got up to go to the bathroom, the waitress asked me if we needed the check. When I growled at her to bring me another beer, she laughed, nodded in understanding, and had it at the table before I got back. I drank until it was simply too late to go to the arboretum. He was disappointed. I was relieved. It was over.

Or so I thought.

On the way home, he called me to tell me he’d had a great time and couldn’t wait to see me again.

Ummmm… no, Troll Guy. No. No way in ever-lovin', holy Hell.

The next day I followed up, as is my normal practice. I always send an email to say thanks for meeting me; it was nice. Even if it wasn’t. In Troll Guy’s case, I wanted to be sure there was no misinterpretation so I was tactful and kind but I added that although I enjoyed his company (lie) and would like to be friends (bigger lie), I didn’t feel any physical chemistry (true) and didn’t want to pursue a romantic relationship (much bigger true). He replied promptly...

“No one has ever called me ugly.”

Ummmm… WTF?

Because I try hard to be a nice person and because he really was a nice person (albeit a weepy, needy, troll-like person), I spent the entire day explaining via IM that I hadn’t called him ugly (even though I might have wanted to). I made clear (or I tried to make clear) that my not wanting to pursue a relationship didn’t have anything to do with looks… it had to do with chemistry, which is completely different, simply cannot be predicted, and is necessary for any sort of romance to begin or flourish. After about 6 hours (I’m totally not exaggerating), I finally apologized one last time and told him we needed to just stop.

He still pops up every now and then… like a zit. He popped up in October. You can read about here if you’d like…