Great Ex-pectations

by Nicholas Allen — July 17, 2007

Patricia was a woman I met through the girlfriend of a friend of a friend. We talked on the phone a couple of times, but I'm generally averse to attempting to get to know somebody too well over the phone; so much of how things ultimately work out comes down to physical chemistry, and there's nothing worse than meeting somebody in person after hours of great phone conversations, only to discover that the thought of any...intimate...physical contact makes either or both of you physically ill.

So we arranged to meet for "casual" cocktails after work yesterday, with the object of seeing if our great phone rapport would translate into an in-person rapport. From her description of herself, I recognized her as soon as I entered the bar--and, for once, there wasn't the letdown of realizing that a person has described themselves as being much more attractive than they really are. If anything, Patricia hadn't done herself justice. She was tall and dark-haired and stacked like the Library of Congress, as a guy I roomed with in college was fond of saying.

Unfortunately, Patricia suffered from an affliction not uncommon among singles of either gender: an inability to stop talking about her exes. Hearing about only the most recent ex would have been disconcerting enough on a first date, but having them all paraded in front of me, like a cavalcade of the dating infirm, was downright off-putting. Everything and everybody in the bar seemed to prompt a trip down memory lane--from the bar itself ("I used to date a guy who would only drink in yuppie bars like this one") to the kind of glassware they used ("I once lived with this guy, and when we moved in together we bought ourselves glasses just like these!") to the crowd we were drinking with ("Oh my God--that guy looks just like this guy I dated two years ago!").

I started to wonder if it was a set-up of some kind, like maybe a buddy of mine was hiding somewhere with a camera to see how long it would take for my patience and politeness to snap. It was like being in a sketch comedy, one that wouldn't even be that funny if you were watching it from home.

Needless to say, I paid for our drinks and got myself out the door as quickly as possible. Word of advice to all you daters out there: Save the talk about your exes for your friends and your therapist. Nobody else wants to hear it.

Nicholas Allen is a writer and columnist based in Manhattan. To read all of his blogs, click here.