Mr. Offerdahl

One of the reasons I experience so much angst over the thought of dating is that I’m not really comfortable around men (yelp!). Never have been, at least not at first. But I do look forward to the day I grow out of this stage. I’m sure there are some unexplored paternal issues there, but I won’t get into that right now. Once I get to know a guy, I’m fine -- but at first, it’s rough.

This is one of the reasons I like working with a group of women my age (well almost anyway). It’s fun to gossip at lunch, hear about others’ love lives, crazy roommates and in-laws and basically feel better about my own life for an hour. But it can also be good for your love life, as I found while out to lunch one day. 

Four of us went out to a casual salad/sandwich place in town called Offerdahl’s and I happened to eye a nicely dressed, nice-looking guy. He was no Johnny Deep, but I was impressed with his outfit and most importantly, his shoes. This might not seem like such a big deal, but it’s not every day you see a nicely dressed man in south Florida, so ... to the shock of my fellow colleagues, I expressed my interest to them.

Apparently they were so shocked that I pointed out a cute guy in public that when I very innocently headed to the bathroom, they very not-so-innocently rummaged through my purse for my business card and passed it to him. Did they tell me this? I’ll let you answer that. Suffice it to say that I learned of this behind-the-scenes matchmaking when we went to leave and the man I happened to think was pretty cute calls out my name. 

I have to say, I was surprised and not surprised. So when he said my name, I turned around and I replied with, “they didn’t?” He, of course, said, “they did.” Keep in mind that the three giggly asses I work with were safely to the getaway car by now, hidden behind dark tinted windows. Unfortunately, Mr. Offerdahl was not quite as cute up close. He was nice looking enough but shorter than I thought and with the mouth of a hockey player.

The nice part about this story is that it ends with a lunch date -- one. The sad part is that it happened at none other than Offerdahl’s a couple of weeks later. And I still can’t run in there for a lunchtime sandwich without running into him. I don’t know how (I did well in physics but not that well), but every single time I’m there, he’s there too. I always make a point to look like I’m in a very big hurry and he usually follows up with an email about how good I looked and if I ever wanna get together again … Nah.