Cycles versus other things

There I was, on a date of sorts and we were talking about this, or that, it was a blur and I was kind of bored. Such is what happens on dates. You get to know someone, especially if it is someone you do not really want to get to know and decisions must be made.

I do not get along well with dumb people, that has been a problem for me for a long time and it shows no signs of subsiding. Famously, for me anyway, I was on a date in Seattle a few months ago, I think, and it all fell apart. See, we met on the street, me shopping for socks, always looking super sexy and everything and all of a sudden someone had said, let's have dinner. That usually works for me, especially when someone happens to be 20 something and super fine.

Now, here is what I learned. Just because someone can put together the words to ask me out to dinner does not mean they are smart enough to put together a number of sentences at said dinner. So, I ordered a drink and the conversation went something like this:

Me: So, tell me about yourself.
Idiot: What do you want to know?
Me: What do you want me to know?
Idiot: I don't know what you mean.
Me: You don't know what I mean when I say tell me about yourself?
Idiot: Yeah.
Me: I'll be right back, I have to use the bathroom.

I found the bathroom, which I did not use, walked through the kitchen and out the back door, never to return to that restaurant or that date again.

So, there I was, this past weekend, on a date of sorts and bored and wondering how normal people date. Then I said something smooth, like "I need to get going, I am going to cycle tomorrow." This started about a 30 second conversation because my date loves cycles, something I did not know, but something I find attractive and then I asked the almost sublime question, what sort of cycle do you ride. Initials and a number were the answer, which to me meant nothing, although I do know a thing about cycles, I don't know everything. There are brands and numbers and all sorts of inside stuff only hardcore cyclists know. I said I was still riding my old Klein, a road bike. To which, cue end of date music right about now, I was asked, how many horsepower? I think I may have snorted.

Date over. Bicycles do not have horsepower you bonehead, or wait, the numbers after the initials from before? Those were horses. Now I get it.

Anyway, date ends when a cyclist is actually a motorcyclist. It's not that I have no interest in motorcyclists, a woman I work with loves to ride her Harley, or something, but for me, for a second date, or pretty much anything else, you need to ride a vehicle you power yourself.

I am not dating again until I am done with this treatment, which is June 5. Maybe by then I will have mastered the ability to tell the difference between a road cycle and a road hog.