So what did I see in Tooly McWankface in the first place? Well I seem to have developed a taste for white collar douche bags. You are probably familiar with this breed of man-child. On the outside they look like they've got it all together. The job (accountant, lawyer, sales exec), the education (private schools their daddies paid for), the resume, the house, the car, the cuff links. But on the inside they are insecure adolescents with addictive personalities and debilitating Oedipus complexes.
Well Tooly was the epitome of white collar douchebagery. He was a classic workaholic and admittedly so. He told me this the day I met him. My white collar fantasies of briefcases and cocktail hours kept me interested. But eventually the extent of his workaholic douchebagery became exceedingly apparent. He was incapable of any spontaneous interaction. Compelled to report to his desk no later than 7am and stay put until 7pm; it was also a non negotiable requirement that he continue to work until midnight once he arrived at his empty apartment (which could pass for corporate housing). Sunday afternoon dinner party? Heck no-he's too busy for that. Spontaneous drink downtown-no its a school night.
The sad part is, when he could schedule me in, I really enjoyed spending time with him. I found him to be interesting, challenging, intelligent and surprisingly passionate. But what would the future hold? Me begging for a few hours of his Saturday, or cold dinners alone? So I had to ask him, even though I knew the answer-does this really qualify as a relationship to you? 4 hours a week? I spend more time with the baggers at Nob Hill. And though he admitted I was right, this was in no sense a relationship, he was not equipped to meet my dating expectations. So we (he) decided not to continue this "relationship" and reported this to me last night in a cold and distant phone call. I wept like he was my first love and thanked god he wasn't there to see me deconstruct, particularly since my mascara wasn't waterproof. He maintained an aloof and professional demeanor and treated me like a client. I hope I won't get a bill for that! I will miss his steady, strong energy and his big sad eyes. I won't miss feeling single when I have a boyfriend. Like his manhood, his existence was only on paper.
Now that Tooly McWankface has released me from the burden of trying to convince somebody to have a life, I am free to wander the streets of match.com again. Final vote: dud
