Strongly Worded

I Don't Like Mike

Remember Mike? The guy I met through work a few months ago? The guy with whom I/people in my office thought I could fall in love? The one who turned out to be schmoozy and slick?

Of course you remember. And of course you'll be intrigued when I tell you that Mike was in town this week. He's an "independent consultant" based in New York, and was invited to my workplace, along with some other alums, to give input on a new academic initiative. Mike is all about his consultant status, and is constantly checking his blackberry/voicemail. Interestingly, the other meeting participants were VPs at major corporations - one was featured on the cover of Forbes magazine last year - but somehow they were able to unplug completely. Just recently I heard two people snorting when I mentioned what I assumed to be Mike's consulting prowess. "Mike has been unemployed for four years," I was told. "And he IMs obsessively with his ex girlfriend."

Alas. Mike stayed on campus after the meeting, and hung out in my office for hours, and somehow the topic of dating emerged, and Mike got all pedagogical and started sharing his fool-proof strategies. First, he discussed how he's a champion ballroom dancer, and how whipping a chick around on a dance floor is Phase I of a Sure Thing Seduction. Then, he talked about his home decor. Apparently Phase II is based on scented candles. Lots and lots of scented candles. He has vanilla, cookie spice, and pine-y passion. It made me a little nauseous just thinking of that (What is it with guys and vanilla? Another guy I dated thought it was sex-promoting as well. It's so not.) And interestingly, Mike is 38 and single.

I told him that dancing and scented candles seemed trite and presumptuous to me, and that what is truly hot is listening and asking questions. "I ask questions," he insisted. "If anything, I ask too many questions."

Now over the last few months, I've spent a significant amount of time with Mike, and he has not asked me one single question. I know about his ballroom dancing, his candles, his ex-girlfriend, his consulting, his networking, his work history ... and what has he asked me? Zip. While I realize Mike is not courting me, he still sucks and is not a good listener. It's like the classic When Harry Met Sally line: "everyone thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor." I debated whether to tell him this, and decided against it.

I think I am done writing about men for a while.

Posted by Dori at 2:45 PM