This is an old story, but a good one nonetheless.

I was approached while on the stationary bike at the gym by a guy that I’d seen a few times at my gym who wasn’t a regular. He asked me out, and I had nothing better to do, so I said yes and gave him my number. As he was walking away, I had to yell out “Hey, my name is Darcie by the way” because he’d forgotten to ask. That was my first clue that it was going to be a great date.

Before he finally got a hold of me, he’d left me a few voice mails. They were both similar “Hi, this is the guy you met at the gym the other day while you were on the bike. Just wanted to hook up with you, see when you are free. I am free pretty much anytime, as I am currently unemployed. So, lunch, breakfast, dinner…it doesn’t really matter because I don’t have a job.”

uhm…

Clearly he’d had some coaching on what to say to women when trying to get a date. We LOVE knowing that we will be paying for the date and if the relationship progresses that we will be your sugar mama.

Regardless, I went out with him. He was good looking and had a great body. The color of his skin was odd. It was the color that blond hair turns when they get a bad dye job trying to color it brown. You know, that icky greenish-brown color. It was quite odd.

Now, I’ve always maintained that the type of work or the amount of money a guy makes is not important to me (as long as it’s legal, I’m a good girl). However, I do want a potential boyfriend to make SOME money.

It’s not even like this guy was an “entrepreneur” between jobs, who had “stuff on the go”. He was plainly unemployed. He was about to be evicted from the student housing he was staying in so that he could move in with his aunt in the suburbs.

That is so hot.

Now, I knew throughout the entire date that I was NEVER going to see this guy again. I mean, come on. But I do need to give him props. Not many men would have the balls to ask a girl out when he didn’t have a job. And, despite the fact that I drank import beer, and more than he did, he still paid (taking his money out of his Velcro wallet). As you know, I have trouble getting men to pay (see this post).

So, no, I never did see him again. He never showed up at the gym again. He did somehow magically find my e-mail address, despite the fact that I never gave him my last name. That was creepy.