Do the dating hokey pokey: Put your fake foot in, take your shattered foot out

Here goes my first blog entry ... I will do my best to be kind. Please, share your thoughts in return. Don't know how often or long I will post, but I am hoping to stir discussion and reflection on today's dating world.

After a couple Match.com messages, Larry wasted no time. He wanted to talk on the phone or meet for a drink. No time like the present, so we agreed to meet at a Knox-Henderson bar the next day. I took the lead and suggested the bar. <NOTE: On first dates, I like to go to places that I’ve never been before as 1. Not as likely to run into friends, and 2. I like trying new places – a bonus even if there’s no connection.>

Prior to meeting Larry, I had an evening work function. I showed his profile to a trusted friend. She commented on his statement: “I don’t like to talk about my accomplishments.”  She said, “I bet he does.”

I got to the bar moments before Larry. He was gracious but slightly older than his photos.  Conversation was easy as we both like bicycling. However, Larry is an accomplished professional racer. Larry has lived and travelled around the world with competitive cycling. Others flock to ride with Larry. How do I know all this? Larry told me.

While not sharing his accomplishments, Larry told me how he recently shattered his foot. No, not a bicycle injury but an accident when he was playing with his dog while wearing Crocs. When he decided that he couldn’t verbally do the reconstructive surgery justice, he offered to show me a picture on his phone. “No thanks,” I politely replied. “No, it’s OK,” was his rebuttal as he put the phone in my face. <RED FLAG: someone who doesn’t honor your request> Luckily, it wasn’t swollen toes and bruising but an x-ray that included a dozen screws in multiple angles throughout the silhouette of his foot.

“Well, I better go before the Mavs win, so I don’t have to fight the traffic on my bicycle.” My cruiser was locked next to the valet stand out front.

We shook hands and wished each other well.

Rode to meet some friends for karaoke at an Uptown bar. Moments after I arrived, a blond, very tall, large fellow with big dimples and a nice smile appeared. He was talking to my friend, so I was introduced to Dan. Dan was a friendly, giant teddy bear.

After a little small talk, Dan asked what I did for a living. He was also insistent on knowing my last name. The more persistent Dan was in knowing my résumé versus me, the less attractive he became. He proudly let me know that he sold feet. Prosthetic feet.

Karaoke was calling. I made my escape.

Not until the morning did I realize the oddity of the foot connection. If Larry’s surgery doesn’t hold up, Dan’s his man.