Date 3: Low to the ground

Proving my theory about men over 40 and their peculiar habits, Richard asked me on a date by actually calling. I was so alarmed by this bizarre turn of events that I couldn't answer the phone, certainly wouldn't call him back and nearly deleted him from my pending boyfriends list. But I didn't, and finally agreed to meet him for a drink. One of those mysterious types who have a pHd in something useless, roast their own coffee and "trade" in order to make money from home and retire early, Richard was perfectly nice but just...off. He had spent months in ashrams seeking higher states of consciousness, made endless trips to Tulum to commune with nature (and cheap hookers?) and generally seemed to spend a tremendous part of the year vacationing. Very intelligent and polite, but just not my type. I should have begun this story with the truth however. As I had left the office, I changed into black boots as it was raining outside. I forgot that these boots have 6 inch platformed heels. These boots made me 6'4"; my date was 5'5" on a very optimistic day. I would never hold height against a fellow, but the variance was shocking. He looked up at me and said "How fucking tall are you?" I thanked him for the lovely evening, and hopped in a cab.

THIRD DATE- NICE BUT NO DICE

LESSON LEARNED- FLAT SHOES ALWAYS. A TALL GIRL CAN'T BE SAUCY.

WINE SELECTION- IMPROVES AS THE DATES GET OLDER. NO BUD LIGHT FOR THE BIG BOYS.