Dammit.  I’m doing it again.

Remember how I said I was done with older guys, simply because they just seemed so much older?  Well, I’m eating my own damn words…again.

Enter Hot Dog Guy…

I found him on Match from Hell.  At first, his profile didn’t really stick out to me, because, believe me, it wasn’t any Pulitzer Prize winner by any means.  But, he did live about five minutes away and was 6’3″ really piqued my interest.  His height guaranteed I would always be the little spoon and the distance meant I wouldn’t be wasting my time or my money on gas.   There was one thing that made me hesitate – the fact that he had two kids and an ex-wife.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to sign up for situation like that because the rule says that having an ex-wife would mean baggage.  This wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker, but it was something I would have to think about.  The three different guys I had gone out with that had ex-wives did in fact fight like cats and dogs with their ex-wives, which would mean drama and stress.

Besides that, he did look good on paper and seemed like a nice, normal guy, who was looking for a nice, normal girl like myself.  I still found myself putting him on the back burner and didn’t reply to Hot Dog Guy’s first email.

Why? Because, apparently I’m shallow.  I had Red Sox Guy and Mr. Audi on my radar and they too had the basic stats, minus the ex-wife and kids.  The downside was that they lived an hour away.  Somehow driving an hour seemed to be the lesser of the two evils.

Mr. Audi was distracting. I was physically attracted to him.  He was incredibly handsome, had a contagious smile, great eyes, and a southern accent.

…and really nice, big arms.

…and tattoos.

Thus, my comment about being shallow.

Look, I’m human, I will admit that, at the time, my hormones were definitely in charge, which is never a good thing.

It happens.

I’m over it.

Eventually, I realized his stunning good looks, southern accent, tattoos and being a great lay, was all Mr. Audi had going for him.  He was one of those guys who said one thing, but he meant something else.

It was confusing and I didn’t have the patience for him.

Plus, who takes naked mirror pictures of themselves and sends them to women???  He was totally hot, but sometimes that’s not enough.  I wanted to see him again, but it got weird and when I can’t have what I want, when I want, apparently, I lose my patience.

Anyway, getting back to Hot Dog Guy…  Hot Dog Guy was also an executive, which, believe it or not, I don’t necessarily consider it to be a good thing.  From my own experience living in New York City, executives are usually a whole other animal – and not the cute/nice kind, either.  Usually, executives have too much money (more money, more problems), they drink a lot, and they are usually on the road traveling for meetings all the time.  You know what they say about men who travel for work…couple that with the heavy drinking?

Ya, I’m all set.

So, to me, at that time, the really good-looking, never-been-married guys, with no kids, who lived an hour away (Mr. Audi & Red Sox Guy), were better choices than dating the executive who had two kids and an ex-wife, and who only lived 8 minutes away.

What was I thinking?!

Luckily, it didn’t take me that long to figure out that Red Sox Guy and Mr. Audi were actually both bad choices.

A few weeks later, when I finally got my head out of my ass, I decided to reconsider someone like Hot Dog Guy.  I decided to flip around the negative aspects into positive ones and told myself that, yes, he had been married for 10 years and was raising two kids, so that had to count for something, right?  And when I looked at it from that perspective, it did count.

That’s how and why he got moved from the back burner, to the front and shortly after our first phone conversation, which was a very nice conversation I might add, he asked me out on a date.

*DING!*

The day of our date, he asked me if I wanted to be picked up at my house, or if I wanted to meet him at the restaurant.   I told him to pick me up.

(Listen, meeting your date instead of having him pick you up, is taking away his opportunity to treat you like a lady.  Meeting him at the bar or restaurant is like opening your own damn door.  Guys know you are capable of doing it, you know you are capable of doing it, but it’s their job, as a man, to open it for you.  And, really if you are that scared that he might be your next stalker, a stalker is going to stalk you no matter if he sees where you live, or not.  So, why wouldn’t I let him pick me up?!)

At 7:30pm, I waited outside my house and watched him roll up in his big, black SUV that looked like it just been detailed.   He stopped the truck, rolled down the window, said hello, and handed me a beautiful bouquet of roses – and not the store-bought kind, either.

*DING! DING!*

(If any guy is reading this, I will say one thing for sure; you can never go wrong with giving a woman flowers on a first date.  It is such a sweet gesture, and it really sets the tone for the rest of the date.)

Seeing him in person was kind of weird.  Nobody ever looks just like the pictures in their profile, but I wasn’t going to let that spoil anything for me.  I was going to go on the date without having any expectations, and just have fun.

During our 10 minute drive into downtown for dinner, Hot Dog Guy tells me that he didn’t make reservations.  It was Friday night, but we were going to try to get into a new steak house that I had never been to before.

When we walk into the restaurant, the hostess asks us if we had reservations.

“No, we don’t.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s going to be an hour wait.  If you’d like, you could wait at the bar until your table is ready.”

I’m not quite sure what came over me, but I suddenly blurted out, “It’s our anniversary.”

The hostess looked at the two of us with a big smile and said, “Wow!  Congratulations! How many years have you been married?”

“Three years,” I said, while I lovingly took Hot Dog Guy’s arm in mine.  Hot Dog Guy luckily didn’t say anything. He just smiled and went along with it.

(My little lie didn’t get us bumped up on her list, but it did get me an “A” for effort from my date!)

We sit down at the end of the bar and Hot Dog Guy orders us two glasses of Pinot Noir.  I admired how tall he was.  To me, he was all man at 6’3″ – even though he was about 20 – 30 lbs overweight, I wasn’t going to let that bother me.  His stature made me feel safe and little.  Like a petite flower.  (It’s a girl thing for those guys who are reading this.)  He also had a very commanding, deep voice that was really attractive, too.  (Y’all know how I like my men to have a “manly” voice.)

So far, so good, but there was something that was a little distracting, which was his comb-over.  By no means was it as bad as Donald Trump’s, but it was quite obvious, and made my mind wander:  If things went well for us, when and how would I be able to tell him that he needed to embrace his alopecia and go for a buzz cut?

But then, I realized that the extra weight and hair-loss were both superficial things. I needed to focus on him, as a person.  Nothing more.  But, dammit, the picture of the bunny with a pancake on its head kept popping into my head because it reminded me of Hot Dog Guy’s hair cut.

(I know it’s mean, but I can’t help it.  It’s just the way my mind works.)

We eventually sit down to a table and order our dinner.  The conversations came easy to the both of us and, eventually, he tells me the story about how he became an executive at one of the biggest food processing companies in the US, which specialized in the production of hot dogs and sausages.

Thus, his nickname.

(And, you all thought he was the guy down at the hot dog stand on Elm Street! Give me SOME credit!)

We kept our conversations light and entertaining.  He didn’t do the 20-question game with me, like most guys usually do.  He was a gentleman the whole time, and didn’t invade my personal bubble once, or talk about inappropriate things like sex or my boobs hanging out of my dress.

For dessert we had ordered the carrot cake (which was the best I’ve ever had!) with two forks.

The carrot cake arrived and Hot Dog Guy and I thanked our waiter for mentioning our anniversary.

After dinner, I wanted to go to The Shaskeen and watch a country band Nathan highly recommended: “Girls, Guns and Glory.”   I knew Hot Dog Guy loved 80’s music, but by the way our evening was going, I knew I could have gotten him to do anything I wanted – even if I had said, “Would you like me to cut off your arm?” he would have said, “Yes, please.”

Once we got into his truck and buckled ourselves in, he stopped and looked at me and said, “I have to kiss you.”

Who was I to stop him?

For a guy who didn’t have full lips, I have to say that he was a really good kisser.  He didn’t even use his tongue, which is a good thing in my book!

(Personally, I’m not a fan of the tongue action.)

We arrive at the Shaskeen and walked to the rear bar, where the band was playing and Nathan was bar tending.

Nathan gives me a big hug and kiss and the cheek and I introduced Nathan to Hot Dog Guy.  By the look on my brother’s face, and knowing my brother so well, I could tell that he couldn’t figure out what I was doing with a guy like Hot Dog Guy.

An older guy…

A corporate guy…

A more weathered-looking guy…

I didn’t care, I knew he was more than just a corporate guy. I was determined to go for good, normal, nice guy, because that’s what I deserved!

I was done with hot guys.

*THE CROWD APPLAUDS*

We stood in the crowd and listened to the band play.  He had his arm gently around my waist, and from time to time he would move his hand up my back and then he would slowly would caress my neck.  I liked that.  I also liked the fact that I thought I fit quite nicely under his arm.

Hot Dog Guy must have read my mind, because he turned to me and said in my ear, “God, it’s so nice not have to bend down and talk to you.  I love that you are so tall.  You and I really are a good fit – height wise.”

Then the band started to play a slow song, and he asked me to dance.

*ADDS 15 POINTS*

On the way home in Hot Dog Guy’s big, black SUV, I slipped the CD I had bought from the band into the CD player.

I was happy.  My date ended up being a pleasant surprise – but, Nathan was right.  Hot Dog Guy wasn’t who I saw myself with, looks wise, but I was sure as hell going to give him a chance.  After all, from what I could see so far he was a good person and he was a gentleman.

To me, that’s a good start.