John and I met online, because my profile is beguiling. (His words, not mine.) We exchanged a number of emails via said dating site and eventually graduated to a couple phone calls and a few text messages.
One of these communiques contained an invitation for a first date.We ironed out the details and, though the Saturday turned out downright blustery (as you will... it's autumn in Wisconsin), I looked forward to meeting someone new, seeing something new, and -- let's be honest -- leaving the house on the weekend. He suggested we go museuming.
Skinny jeans, check. Tall boots and suitably insulated socks, check. Hair down and curly, check. Short-sleeved sweater which SCREAMS Siobhan, check.
When I got downtown, I struggled to find a parking spot. Apparently the Overture had an event and my truck is too tall to fit in the other parking garages. A couple circles around the Kohl Center and BINGO. Free street parking.
alarm #1
We connected on the corner of University and Lake. He had said he was 5'8", but in reality he was 5'7" which makes him noticeably shorter than me. Doesn't that qualify as LYING? Well, whatever. I don't discriminate (against college-educated, unmarried men with straight teeth living in Madison...).
John and I walked a couple blocks to the Chazen Museum of Art, which, I'm now convinced, is the most underrated gem in the Madison area. He and I were off to a good start: John was a complete gentleman who let me set the pace (very, very slow in museums) and we politely chit-chatted about the exhibits until I turned a corner on the third floor and saw THIS...
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| Untitled 1968 by Mark Rothko |
... a painting which rendered me speechless. Since 2002, when I received a calendar featuring 12 of his prints as a Christmas gift, Mark Rothko has been my favorite painter. I mean FAVORITE. As in, you can take the rest of your visual artists and shove 'em.As in, I have 13 of his prints hanging prominently in my living room and about a dozen more of my own pieces inspired by Rothko's style.
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| 'Take Me to the River' by Siobhan Reynolds |
Well played, John Doe. Well played. You may not have planned for my reaction -- unless you are a very clever stalker -- but it was a good one.
After a quick stroll through the scant exhibits in the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art, we decided on an early dinner at a Thai restaurant. The shabbiest, musty-smellingest restaurant possibly ever allowed in Madison, a true foodie city.
Never go to
Vientiane Palace Restaurant II
The lemonade was disease-my-pancreas sweet, the floor was sticky, and the food was forgettable. Nevertheless, John and I had a nice conversation about our families and hobbies.
Alarm #2
John mentioned having in the past enjoyed dinner parties with friends who have all since gotten married and had children. I casually suggested he host the party. He reacted strongly: "Nooooo. No. No way. Nuh uh." Turns out he shares a house with a friend who happens to be a hoarder.
I
After dinner, John walked me back to my free parking spot, gave me a hug, and said he would call. Which he did. And texted. And after four days of not hearing from me he finally broke up with me (huh?) via email. Somehow I just don't feel like I got dumped.
Dude, I'm just not that into you.
*More or less not his real name.
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