Monday, May 9, 2011

The Fireman....

To keep with the theme and until professions start to repeat themselves, I titled this one the Fireman.  It's been a few months, but I met a guy on Match and decided to go out with him on a Friday night.  He was a fireman in a local city that borders the one I live in.  And since he's an everyday hero, I decided it would be safe to have him pick me up at my house (not my brightest idea).
He picked me up in his early 90's Toyota that reeked of Axe.  For those of you that have not had the pleasure of being in a middle school classroom to smell what the awkward teenagers are dousing themselves in, consider yourself lucky.
He came to the door to meet me.  I wore flats, as I normally do on a first date, because you can just never trust the height they say they are, and this guy was no exception.  He said he was 6'1".  No freaking way, maybe only if he had a helmet on and was standing on the first rung of the ladder of the firetruck.
So, his first impression was that he was a liar and couldn't tell the truth about his height.  I just really wonder why men feel the need to lie about their height.  I am going to find out real quick, and it should be real awkward for them at that moment, but for some reason it isn't!
  Next, we went for Mexican food, this part is funny because when we were in communication, I mentioned I would prefer not Mexican.
We got to the restaurant, sat and ate.  All went well, mostly.  Convo was pretty boring, but I had no idea what would be coming next.  He suggested driving about 40 minutes away to go to an arcade mostly for adults.  I thought to myself "That would mean atleast 40 minutes in the car on the way there, some time to find a parking spot, play games, and then 40 minutes home."
I replied with, "No thanks, we can get a beer somewhere closer."
He said, "Well, I thought I would see how good you are in pop-a-shot at the arcade since you are tall and played basketball in high school."
I had no words for him.
We went to a bar near my house, got a booth.
While sitting at the booth, I drank vodka cranberry (not strong enough for what was about to happen).  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of atleast 30 photos and started quizzing me.  "Do you know what this is?" He would ask.  I would say no, and he would go in to say it was a double ladder pumping truck.  Or some sort of engine.  This went on for about 20 photos when I finally asked why he had all of those.  He said he was the official fleet photographer for the state.  I was confused by this, but he mentioned that many municipalities like to have pictures of their fleet of fire trucks and many citizens buy copies.  I don't buy that story for a minute, nor would I buy a picture of any city I have lived in firetruck fleet, unless there were hot firefighters posing in each photo.
He then went on to say that he loved dogs, asked what kind of dogs I liked, and I told him I preferred larger dogs.  He then spilled the beans that he raised dachsunds.  If that wasn't bad enough, he tried to defend the dachsunds saying, "If you didn't know, you would think they are a big dog."  Really?  If I didn't know, or if I was blind and lost my sense of touch to tell by petting it that it was a small dog.  He said dachsunds are very similar to labs, retrievers etc.
This date taught me one very good lesson.  Forget what they did in the old fashioned days, instead meet at a public location for a first date, that way you are not without wheels.  If I could have disappeared into the bathroom during the firetruck quiz session, I would have!

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