Dating Austin: Part III

23 Apr Dating Austin: Part III

Dating has been rough, I’ve yet to make it past a second date.

Something always stops me from getting there (spoiler alert: it’s me). This is a story about one of those two-date catastrophes….

Shane looks like he got lost between set and his trailer. His movie-star worthy jawline and panty-drenching smile were the two things I noticed first – which is saying something because Shane is well over 6′ and a redhead. I was immediately drawn to him.

He was working the bar. Liquid courage made me pull a dollar bill out of my purse, scribble down my number and lean dangerously close to that smile and say, “If you want to see me again this dollar bill is your ticket.” Okay, okay, lame I know, but I was drunk and feelin’ myself.

With that I pranced my sweet ass out of the building, trying not to skip, and flashed a seemingly casual glance over my shoulder, glimpsing Shane clutching the dollar, beautiful mouth agape, eyes locked on me.

My heartbreaker mode: ENGAGE.

Roosevelt Room for our first date, dollar bill in hand. Instantaneously we are best friends, laughing, chattering, raising single eyebrows and making no effort to hide our toothy smiles for each other. Touching playfully when it feels right we move onto Swift’s Attic for their version of an Old Fashioned (not better than a real Old Fashioned, FYI). On the street corner our lips connect, linger, and part ways. A kiss most people dream about receiving on a first date. I duck into an Uber, homeward bound, alone. 

“This is going well” – my internal monologue.

“I must ruin it” – my internal demons. Luckily I don’t, this story implodes all on its own.

Shane picks me up for our second date, dinner then a rooftop pool party for two at his splashy, centrally-located apartment downtown. I am not at all embarrassed to say I bought a new suit for the occasion. Swimming, floating, flirting, dunking, there was a brief moment where I held him under longer than I should’ve, and then a blissful star-lit cuddle-sesh, courtesy of private cabana. Is this real life?

Back to his place we start talking about less-surfacey things. Shane reveals he’s a Trump-supporter. Ha, kidding, just making sure you’re paying attention…

It’s worse.

Finding out he never went to college is not by virtue a deterrent for me, yet, him telling me his long term plan is to keep working at the bar, is. Wondering if his life’s passion is to serve drinks to whiny college students every Wednesday-Sunday 6pm-3am with no benefits and very little upward trajectory, I ask him, just in a nicer way.

Turns out it’s more complicated than liking the lifestyle. It’s out of necessity.

Shane, 31, has had not one, but TWO heart attacks. My next question is less sensitive than yours may have been:

“Holy shit how much cocaine did you do?”

His answer? None.

Apparently, Strep Throat can travel into your heart and fuck shit up (medical doctor’s words not mine). Before you tell me I’m gullible for believing this story, I verified this by calling the doctor I’ve had since I was a kid. She confirmed, although rare, it’s very possible (yes I still call my doctor from childhood and run my date’s medical records by her).

Talk about bad luck – additionally these attacks happened over a three month period when Shane didn’t have medical insurance. Meaning he was in some serious debt. Ouchie.

Although I didn’t know heart attacks were the cause, I did know about the debt even before we went on our first date. Google showed me a Go Fund Me page written by his mom asking for contributions to help cover medical bills in the tune of $30,000. The fund was established quite some time ago and I am awkwardly reporting it barely made 15% attainment.

Despite this knowledge I chose to go on these dates and not to bring up the debt. I wasn’t going to let a Go Fund Me page get in the way of meeting up with someone who I was interested in, attracted to and had the potential of being an awesome person. Make no mistake, Shane is an awesome person; but I need more than ‘awesome’ – I’m looking for someone I can share my time with in a meaningful way. That type of pursuit comes with a lot of asterisks and qualifiers.  

One of those qualifiers is someone who is financially stable enough to take a vacation with me. That might sound silly to you but spending extended time exploring together without having to worry about work or debt piling up, hits on one of my love languages: quality time.

Shane is in a financial position where accidentally taking the Toll Road would send him spiraling, let alone leaving the state.

His situation SUCKS and how he got in debt is far from his fault. But 18 months post heart attacks he was struggling. He casually told me he borrowed money from a friend to pay rent last month, and hadn’t paid it back yet. He couldn’t afford the minimum payment on several medical bills, but hadn’t contacted the hospital billing office to petition for relief (which you can do if you can’t afford to pay or don’t have insurance).

When I asked if he thought to take a personal loan to pay off medical bills — therefore consolidating multiple payments into one, potentially lowering the interest, and gaining the flexibility to refinance as needed — he looked at me as though I had just said Two Girls One Cup was my favorite film.

What he needed to do was get a better paying job (or two) with benefits, fast. He needed to sell his car, sell his furniture, kick his weed habit and move in with his parents or get a roommate in his fancy flat. But when I asked, he told me he wasn’t doing any of those things. In fact, he paid for my dinner that night with a credit card, that made my stomach turn.

It’s one thing to find yourself in a tough spot, overcome with the enormity of your situation; it’s another to change absolutely nothing about your lifestyle and ignore the crisis.  Strike one.

I asked him if he saw a way out of his situation; he started discussing Chapter 7 Bankruptcy.

At this, my eyebrows vacated my forehead. How’s that for second date small talk?

Bankruptcy essentially blasts your credit score back to 200 B.C. Halting minor ambitions like opening a JCPenny store credit card and simply obliterating the mere notion of purchasing a car or a house. Not to mention, every asset in your name is liquidated then handed over to your debtors, leaving you possessionless and penniless.

I checked myself, it is not my job to suggest alternative solutions, or tell someone what they should be doing. But man, I was feeling wicked judgy. 

If Shane had started vocational school to become a plumber, for example, a month after these events he would have been almost done with the program and on his way to making better, more consistent money, with benefits and a schedule that enabled him to take a second job if needed. Instead, he was taking advantage of Section 8 housing; that’s right – the glorious apartment we were in is part of a subsidized housing project for low-income individuals (how this works I have no idea, but it reminds me of all being a college student and abusing the WIC program…) tangents, sorry.

Bankruptcy was the best option as he saw it, wiping his slate clean. Strike two.

And no, he’s not getting two strikes because I am a Material Girl Living in a Material World (S/O Madonna hope you read this) but because he lacks initiative to improve his situation through real work. Candidly, our financial situations are opposites; however, his debt didn’t matter to me nearly as much as his attitude and actions when faced with adversity. I saw a lack of character through inaction, passivity.

But on the  bright side, he told me for our third date we could go to 6 Flags in San Antonio, he has a season pass.

Barf.

There was a moment when I thought, ‘What is wrong with me?! Why can’t I be more empathetic!? He’s in this terrible situation and you’re over here thinking he should probably turn the AC down to lower his utility bill. Is that really what you’re fixated on? The debt? The money? Geez Meg, how shallow are you?’

These intrusive thoughts started to make my thighs sweat (in a bad way). Searching for any redeeming quality I ask, in what I hope to God is a non-confrontational tone, “Once all your obligations are met financially and work-wise what is it you like to do for personal growth? How do you invest in yourself?”

A keener ear would have heard this question as, “What on earth do you have to offer a potential partner?”

And then, strike three happened.

With vigor Shane springs up from the futon, shuffling papers on the coffee table like a mad scientist who misplaced his monocle. Triumphantly, he extracts a stack of worn papers, handing them to me with obvious pride.

I tenderly held in my hands the type of art I wish I could make. Art which demands your attention, and more importantly deserves it. Watercolor paintings, the most beautiful ones I’ve seen in my life.

Awestruck, and more than marginally ashamed, I felt terrible I was so close to writing this guy off based on something so ‘silly’ as $30,000 of debt, no aspirations, and little motivation. These paintings were potential beyond measure, true treasures. “This is my favorite one,” I say, recovering.

Taking it from me, he brandished the masterpiece, holding it up to the light, “Yes, I like this one too, you can barely see the numbers.”

The numbers? The NUMBERS? Hold up, hold up, hold UP.

Yes, my more astute (and probably whimsical) readers, you are correct. In response to my what-do-you-have-to-offer-me question he shows me his PAINT BY (FUCKING) NUMBERSWATERCOLOR PAINTINGS!

I am not proud of this,  but in the moment my panic, disbelief and discomfort came to a head and I blurted out this unthinkable sentence:

“I think I just got my period, I’ve gotta go, bye.”

The car ride home got me thinking…things aren’t always as they seem. Shane is a good looking guy, drives a newish car, lives in the nicest apartment in the best part of town…he seemed like a regular dude trying to make it. Peeling back one layer from the facade was a different story, one in which Shane was a hot, emphasis on hot, mess.

I wanted the truth, I got it, and Jack Nicholson was right, I could not handle the truth.

Dating is hard. Dating guys with opposite schedules, who do nothing to improve their situation, and spend an exorbitant amount of time honing their paint-by-number skills instead of finding a way to pay down their medical debt off makes it even harder. My advice to you? If strikes one and two drastically oppose things you fundamentally stand for, or your lifestyle, don’t wait until there is a ‘strike three’.

Or do, cuz you never know, it might be dope watercolor paintings.

Hopefully shocking to no one I called it off.

I really liked Shane, he made me feel good, he was easy to talk to, gorgeous, and there was a legitimate spark. It had been a while since I felt a spark like that.

Be that as it may, the anxiety I felt after our second date outweighed all the good feelings. It’s not like he was going to ask me to be the mother of his children on date #3 but just the thought of what a future would be like with him was enough for me to pull the plug on the possibility.

We are too different, and the solution to resolve this requires more effort than he’s ever attempted on his own.

I am grateful for Shane’s honesty on date #2 instead of month/year #2. But just because you’re honest about your situation does not mean I have to be part it.