Red Flags

they’re everywhere

D. called last night. He called a day later than he said he would. I actually was thinking he wasn’t going to call at all. (Was that a tinge of relief I was feeling?) But he did, and he was eager to get together again. We talked for almost an hour, which is great. And we laughed a lot. Even better. But he said some things that raised a crop of waving flags. They’re not red. And I don’t even know if they deserve to be there. (Except for the “Christian-boy” comment from our first date last week, which is definitely a red flag for a variety of reasons starting with: who calls themselves that?) The new flags are smaller than those paper umbrellas you get in pina coladas, and they were only swishing around in my periphery.

First, there’s the fact that D. was in the armed forces, which, indicates to me a highly structured being who likes precision haircuts. That’s all fine and well, except I’m lucky if I brush my hair. Ever. And that messiness is somewhat akin to how I lead my life. I dance to a tune with a beat as erratic as Meg White’s drumming. D. sounds like he marches to “Taps.”

Second, he doesn’t believe that we, as humans, are causing global warming. I completely disagree with this and think this is a probably an indicator of greater divergence in ideologies. But it’s not so much what he said as much as how he said it, kind of laughing like, “those stupid fucking Al Gore groupies are so fucking stupid.”

Third, I have a prejudice against people who use matchmakers to find dates. (I met him through It’s Just Lunch.) Seems so cheesy. (And yes, I’m using the matchmaking service, too, but I only signed up because I was investigating it for the book. And since I invested $1300, I might as well get my money’s worth. So hypocritical, I know.)

Maybe I don’t really like him and I’m just looking for things to pick on. I mean, I was caught in a whipping frenzy of red flags with Simon and didn’t seem to mind. From our very first date when he told me he was probably moving, a red flag the size of Rushmore went up and I got slapped across both cheeks with it. That was my cue to run. But I didn’t. (Even knowing the outcome, I don’t think I would have done anything different. He hasn’t called since our five minute conversation last week, by the way.)

Maybe instead on putting all of this energy into dissecting “issues” I know nothing about because I’ve only been out with D. once, I should just let things evolve and see. And maybe start divulging potential red flags about myself (i.e. writing a dating book). Let him do some red flag batting. I wonder what would happen if I just threw out that Dennis Kucinich is my favored presidential candidate. I’m gonna do it tonight when we meet for dinner. Might as well just put it all out on the table and serve it up with dinner. No half-stepping. No half-masting.

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