Love or Palm Trees

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I spent the year after my divorce working in Hawaii.  It was great therapy but when I came home I had a hard time adjusting.  The thought of dating again scared the hell out of me.  And I was probably watching too many Lost reruns because I became obsessed with the idea that I needed to get back to the island. I was complaining about my love life to my friend Justine (who is also my ex wife) over coffee one morning. She said, “We just need to get you out there.  You should try online dating.”

In a moment of weakness I agreed. She took my picture and uploaded it to a dating site, wrote a bit of copy and hit Create Profile. It took less than 5 minutes.  

 “I look hungover,” I said, looking at my picture online.

She grabbed the laptop and under the heading, First Thing People Notice About You, she added the line "Looks good hungover."   
"Thanks for that," I said.

My hung-over profile pic

It didn’t take long, within a few days I was chatting with an urban planner from the East Bay. By coincidence she and I were both taking a night class on geo-spatial mapping. It was a geek match made in heaven. Her name was Syd. I thought I was in love already.  We agreed to meet at this funky bar in downtown Oakland, I can’t remember the name but it was filled with dusty kitsch on the walls and small taxidermied animals.  When did road kill come back in fashion? I got there a bit early and chose a seat at the far end of the bar where I could watch the door. I was nervous and the gray squirrel just over my right shoulder staring me down wasn’t helping. Apparently this place was famous for its fresh squeezed greyhounds.  On the bar was a wooden crate of grapefruits and an old style manual juicer with a modified 3-foot long handle.  The bartender went through an acrobatic routine every time someone ordered one.  It was a bit of a show and people gathered around to watch. I suppose this was the hipster version of “Cocktail.” Only instead of Tom Cruise this guy looked more like Shaggy.  With Scooby’s head mounted on a plaque behind him. 

Syd was fun. We had a great time talking about the abundance of bad urban design in the bay area.  Only occasionally getting hit with a random citrus spray from across the bar.  Later we had dinner a few blocks away at a crowded Chinese restaurant. She took me home to her apartment and the next morning we went out to breakfast at a little cafe just up the street from her place in Rockridge. I was telling her about my recent job in Hawaii and how it had netted me a ton of airline miles and a free place to stay there on the island anytime I wanted. I remember she had ordered corned beef hash and fried eggs.  I was watching the colors of her breakfast run together, the yellow of the egg yoke spilling down onto the pile of diced pinkish meat and bleached white hash browns. It reminded me of Loco Moco, the Hawaiian name for fried eggs over mystery meat and rice, always with a side of macaroni salad.  I don’t know. Maybe it’s that anything you eat under a palm tree just tastes better. The feeling over took me and before I knew it I said, “We should go to Hawaii together.”  Her response was a rather tepid “Hmm, I’ve never been there.”
On our second date I tried to get her to commit, bringing my laptop and looking at airline schedules online while sitting on the side of her tiny uncomfortable futon bed. 
There was no third date.
 
The next girl I met online was a writer from the Mission. Shari was so beautiful and maybe the tallest woman I’d ever dated. I was picturing her in a bikini before I ever saw her in person. But I knew I had to show more restraint with my tropical aspirations, so I waited as long as I possibly could to make the invitation, the end of our second date.  But before you judge me let me tell you about the date.  We had a great dinner at a Peruvian restaurant in West Portal and then drove out to the beach. We walked arm in arm near the waves below the Cliff House. It was cold and windy and we leaned in close to talk. After a kiss that almost knocked me over she said “I can’t take you home with me.  My apartment is too messy.” I thought about protesting but didn’t have time before she said; “How about we get a hotel out here by the beach?” 

Wait, is that the sound of angels singing?  maybe hula girls...

We were stuck together like two strips of fly paper for the rest of the weekend. We ordered take out and left the room only for coffee in the morning and drinks in the evening. With things evolving so quickly, when the words “Hey, how about a week in Hawaii?” came out of my mouth, I was sure she would say yes.  Instead I heard, “Let’s wait until we’ve known each other a couple months before we plan anything like that.” I was crushed. But I recover quickly. I smiled and said of course that was a good idea.  In truth I still cannot imagine anyone’s hesitation at accepting such an offer.  Especially after the weekend we just had.  And come on, a couple of months?  It was already April for Christ’s sake.  We continued to see each other for a while but I could tell the damage was done.  In fact she even scolded me for my “escapist fantasies” in our break-up conversation.

I'm slow but I do eventually learn from my mistakes.  So the next time around I decided to take a completely different approach.  I felt I had a plan so good I knew it would work on the very first date. Sharon was young, smart, and very sexy. She had long dark hair and these amazing blue green eyes with bits of gold, like lightning in a tropical storm.  We met briefly for tea on a Tuesday then agreed to dinner that following Saturday at Zazu, a small romantic place on the outside of town. I knew the sous chef there so I went so far as to stop by a few hours before, chat him up a bit and scope out a good table.  Then I went home to get ready.  I picked her up at her house, a little bungalow on Tupper Street in Santa Rosa.  I was more nervous than I should have been.  Walking up to her front door and knocking seemed so formal and awkward. I realized this was the first girl I had dated who lived in an actual house. She invited me in and that awkward feeling stayed. Except for a piano in one corner and a few books and papers scattered on the floor the living room was devoid of furniture. It looked like a house someone had just moved out of.  Like she was just stopping by to sweep up and grab the last few items. I asked her how long she had lived there.  She said 7 years.  I watched her as she put on her jacket and closed her laptop. It was sitting on a built in bookshelf. The power cord ran down to the floor and across a few feet to an outlet at the base of a painted column. It reminded me of the way people at airports find whatever power they can to sit and charge their phones and computers. 

As we walked in the restaurant I caught Adam’s eye and he nodded to me. After a few minutes, water, bread, the waitress came over and said, “Adam said don’t bother with the menus he’ll just start sending things out.”   Sharon was impressed. Hell, I was impressed.  And the food was amazing.  Roasted padron peppers with shaved macadamia nuts. Deep fried bacon wrapped figs.  We were having fun. I felt a bit distracted still and after the second waitress complimented her on her dress I realized I hadn’t said a thing about it.  Focus Paulie.  The conversation was mainly about food and family and then she mentioned some travel she had done in the tropics. Here was my opening.  This was the moment I’d been waiting for. I told this entire story I’m telling now.  The post divorce year on the island. The airline miles.  The urban planner. The writer.  I get a little animated when I tell a story, waving my arms and raising my voice. At the end I said, “Who would imagine it would be so hard to get someone to go on a tropical vacation with you!?”   She laughed, I laughed, She said, “That is a pretty funny story Paul.”  And I thought, YES! I’ve finally nailed it, white sands, Tiki bars, palm trees... Hawaii, here I come baby! 

On the drive home she was pretty quiet. Eventually she turned to me and said, “Paul you are a nice guy but I don’t think I want to see you again. I just don’t think you’re ready to date. You spend way too much time talking about your exes.”

My airline miles expired around the same time I canceled my online dating profile.