Have you ever had a decent bachelor friend who is also the pickiest guy on earth?
Enter Brad.*
Brad and I used to work together at one of the car dealerships where I did stock photography.
He’s very upbeat and financially responsible, never married, not even engaged, lots of mostly short-term girlfriends, great sense of humor, and had recently quit smoking.
Brad was turning 50 and was thinking it might be time to settle down.
Guys were always picking on me at that job, where picking is synonymous with hitting on me.
Brad would come in like a pelican shoos away seagulls.
He practically obligated all the other guys to respect me on his watch.
So you’re thinking, Brad sounds like a fairly decent guy, right?
We exchanged guitar picks on one occasion; I gave him my business card and he started texting me.
I was naive enough back then to think he was just being his positive flirty self, but in time it became clear this man is very bed-driven.
And by bed-driven I don’t mean driven to sleep.
It was obvious our “friendship” made my husband uncomfortable.
‘All the more reason for me to continue it,’ I thought.
One day he broke off his lunch with me because this ‘woman from out of town was coming to visit’ and he’d rather spend the weekend with someone he had a chance with.
I got very offended.
It had been very hard for me to convince my husband to let us have lunch in the first place.
I was really putting my marriage on a ledge to be his friend and here he was being this insensitive asshole (well he was) indifferent to my efforts.
I didn’t care that Brad was having lunch with another woman, (which according to his public Facebook page, was actually a guy friend from out of town).
It was his choice of words that really hurt me.
Consequently, I also chose a series of words that would hurt him, and what he intended as a gag ended up being a sore point in our relationship- the Crossroad of Dissent.
Later on, at my current job, I had an annoying single female coworker (Gail*) whom I thought would make a great match for him.
I told them about each other and he asked for Gail’s picture.
I sent him a link to her Facebook profile.
“I don’t like blondes,” he said.
Days later- “What did he say about us having a blind date?” Gail asked me.
“You know, he’s really hard to get a hold of,” I replied.
Brad and I became friends again but not like before.
I was looking for a new job and seeing as how my other ex-coworkers have an undeniable linear pattern of sending my messages to spam, I needed him as a reference.
I decided to stay on his good side, sans the flirting.
Then my current coworker’s (Liz’s*) husband passed away.
A month later she started wondering what kind of guy she could date.
Yeah. You read right. A MONTH.
That’s how long it’s gonna take for your wife to start seeing other men if you kick the can.
So put a clause in your will.
Brad had told me he likes Latina brunettes with thin bodies, and here I knew one, who in turn likes well off white men who work out.
Logical match, right?
Liz texted me a nice picture of herself to forward to him.
“I’m just not feeling it,” texted Brad to me.
“I want a woman like you.”
:0
“But Liz and I have tons in common!” I pleaded on her behalf, “She’s even sweeter than I am!”
“When have you ever been sweet?”
“Yeah you’re right. I was hoping you wouldn’t catch that.”
I tactfully texted Liz that Brad was seemingly already in love with another woman.
That was a few months ago.
I have since blocked Brad’s number.
Liz stopped talking to me because I technically took her job, though I would argue she conceded it to me.
Last week she apologized for “being a bitch,” -her words, not mine- and things are starting to go back to normal.
(With the exception that I’ll never trust another coworker again.)
Liz and I are both being sent away on a business trip for a few days to a city where Brad happens to have a lake house.
This morning, in a very perky voice, she asked me, “Hey! Doesn’t your friend live over there where we’re going?”
Me: “Oh you mean Brad? I blocked his number.”
Liz: “Too bad your husband’s going with you, otherwise you could meet up with him.”
Me: “That’s why I’m glad my husband is going. I was afraid I’d run into Brad and he’d start hitting on me. The guy just can’t take No for an answer.”
Liz: “I thought you said he was seeing someone.”
Me: “…He’s just an idiot. That’s why I blocked his number.”
(Facepalm.)
Yes, yes, dear, avid reader!
I’m also an idiot, for trying to set up anyone with anyone else.
I wish I knew a Shakespeare who could make a comedy out of my relationship mishaps.
This is the last time I ever try to play Cupid.
My next blog post will be, “Things That Are Better Left to Chance.”
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent. In this case, me.
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