I Like Kale, Dammit!

Every once in a while I will receive a "check-in" text from guys relegated, by my choice or theirs, to the dating dustbin of my past. The check-in text seems to occur when the guy is single and not having any luck with the ladies, so he texts me -- and no doubt all his other former dates -- to try to figure out the extent of his current amorous options. It's essentially the "Hail Mary" pass of dating, a last-ditch desperate effort to score.

After I know it's not going to work out with a guy, I usually delete him from my phone, unless of course we're friends. Months later when I receive one of these check-in texts, I am usually confronted with an unfamiliar phone number and a vague message that offers no clue to the texter's identity. My most recent check-in text began with this nugget:

"Happened to see your number in my contacts list but couldn't match the name to a face..."

Flattering. I matched the level of charm put into this text with one that contained my first name and a "Who's this?"

Him: "Neil."

As luck would have it, I don't know any Neils, except for a guy I met online 18 months(!) ago. I remembered this Neil right away. He was the inappropriately young surgical resident who emailed and texted me for a month, then set up a tentative date, but flaked on me. Since I have zero interest in dating him, I decided to have some fun with him instead.

Me: "NEIL DIAMOND?!!! I've been waiting decades for your text. YES! YES! I would LOVE to sing You Don't Bring Me Flowers with you!!!!!!!!!"

Him: "Lol no. We might have met thru ok Cupid a while back."

Me: "Oh yeah. I was the HOT one on okc. Does that jog your memory?"

Him: "Lol. For some reason a couple of random associations such as glasses and writing come to mind. We must have met or I'm having deja vu."

Me: "Yes, I do wear glasses when I write."

Him: "Lol. K. So I'm not (completely) crazy."

Me: "If you say so. (I don't like to argue with crazies!) Are you still on okc?"

Him: "Yeah...Sporadically. You?"

Me: "Not for the past 13 months."

Him: "Where in LA are you?"

Me: "You mean RIGHT NOW? As I'm doing errands?!"

Him: "Lol. Yes. How else can we get a drink together?"

At this point, I'm driving between errands and not reading his texts. He must have second-guessed his get-a-drink suggestion to me and decided to back peddle when he didn't get an immediate response.

Him: "jk"

Me: "Don't worry about my location, Neil. If you want me to do a duet with you, I can be *anywhere* -- the Bowl, the Greek, the Palladium -- in less than an hour. I've only been waiting since 1980 to do this with you!!!!!!!!!!!"

Him: "Ha. You're funny. Are you free to meet up?"

Me: "Not tonight."

Him: "Will do a duet another evening then."

Me: "How old are you, Neil? I'm having age-related concerns."

Him: "I'm 30. How about you?"

Me: "I was afraid of that. You're just not young enough for me. Sorry. I'm looking for more of a Harold and Maude relationship."

Him: "Will be honest -- had to google that movie!"

Me: "I'm 50. I can't believe you've never seen Harold and Maude! It's a classic."

Then he sends me one of those bathroom selfies. He's in his surgical scrubs. And he's very cute. Damn it. He's as tempting as a cronut, but I've taken a vow against junk food like deep-fried pastry and too-young-for-me guys.

Him: "This is me. Was on call at hospital earlier today."

At this point, I'm thinking he sent me the selfie I didn't ask for because he was worried I didn't remember that he's a surgeon. And cute. Then I wonder why he took the selfie *earlier* in the day and decide he must have been sending it all afternoon to EVERYONE he's ever dated or even contemplated dating. Maybe he felt that things were now desperate for him. He was facing a weekend alone. He must have struck out with all of the women in his datable sphere, and now he was reaching back to a sarcastic old broad he met online 18 months ago and didn't even bother to meet.

Me: "I can't take a selfie right now because I have mustache cream on."

Him: "Lol, mustache cream from coffee? Even better!"

Me: "No. To get rid of the hair on my upper lip."

Him: "Gotcha."

I really *did* have mustache cream on my upper lip. I even took some selfies wearing the mustache cream, but I couldn't take a decent selfie that made me look cute enough. Even though I'm never going to meet this guy, I am so vain, I vetoed the idea of sending him a less-than-flattering photo of me in all my mustachio-creamed glory.

Me: "I can't believe you don't have a date on a Saturday night!"

Truly. Let's think about the implications of that. A young, attractive surgeon can't find a date on the biggest date night of the week in a town OVERFLOWING with beautiful, interesting, awesome women. WTF's up with that?!

Him: "I'm actually meeting a good friend from college who's in town for the night."

Me: "Have fun. Don't booze it up too much. You might be called in to do emergency lipo."

Him: "Haha. I don't do plastics, plus not on call overnight! (Thankfully) BTW, how about you? No hot Harold for a Saturday night?!"

Me: "I'm going to a party. I wouldn't be defoliating my upper lip if I were just staying in to watch Friends reruns tonight."

What I'm really saying is: Dude, read between the lines. That's pretty obvious subtext you didn't pick up.

Him: "Quite sassy. Good thing I'm not there."

I agree. That *is* a good thing. It's pretty easy to say no to junk food when it isn't right in front of you looking so irresistible. Until the temptation fades, I will keep repeating my mantra: I like kale. I like kale. I like kale, dammit! I just hope he doesn't ask me to a Neil Diamond concert, because I'm not sure Sassy McSassmouth could actually say no to that.