Dating Story # 5 a/k/a...

Those 3 Little Words

When it comes to relationships, there's a lot of speculation and discussion over what many people refer to as "those three little words". I don't think it matters if a couple or potential couple is gay or straight, there is still the same focus on what gets said and when. You hear this referred to all the time. "Oh" someone might gush, "if only he'd say those three little words." Or maybe "Oh, last night was awful. She said those three little words."

It's hard to save a relationship when someone has waited too long to hear those three little words (TTLW). But just as hard when when they're spoken too early. Too-early TTLW will almost always bring things to a dead stop. You know how it goes: you've held on seeing someone month after month, or year after year, convinced that someday you'll hear TTLW that just never, ever come. Or, maybe you're only on date #3 and out of nowhere, BAM! one person says those three little words way too soon and the other person begins to ready up the "It's not you, it's me" speech.

Three little words way too soon is what happened C, a very handsome man in his mid-30's that I met at a networking event held in an uptown museum. I first saw C from across the room, all dressed up in a light gray suit complete with power tie. After making eye contact a few times he began making his way over to introduce himself. We talked for a few minutes, exchanged info and promised to be in touch. It was nice to have that feeling of heading home with the phone number of someone I actually liked tucked away in my pocket.

But, a little while later, over dinner with my friend N, it happened. N pulls out his hand-held device and begins hitting some buttons. And then, before the first date even happens, those three little words are spoken: "Let's Google him."

Googling C proves to be far too easy. After just a couple of clicks, N frowns, looks up from the screen and hesitantly says "Um, how secure are you feeling?" The Google search brings up C's resume. Considering the universities he attended, it's a surprise there isn't ivy sprouting from between the keys and trailing up N's arm. Words every parent longs to hear are leaping out at me. Harvard. Stamford. PhD. Published Articles. Keynote Speaker, etc., etc. A few more clicks and N discovers that C lives in a registered historic landmark house that, of course, he owns. Educated, handsome and apparently, wealthy. We're doomed.

One week later, I am sitting with C over a casual dinner. We’re chatting away about the usual things you say over a dinner with someone new. He’s talking about his job and I find myself saying "So how is your…" and then stop. I was about to say "…first year of teaching?" when I suddenly couldn’t recall if I know he's new to teaching because he told me, or because Google did. For that matter, did he ever say Harvard, or was that from Google, too? Who said his house was a landmark building? Him? Google? PhD. Him? Stamford. Google? His last name. Him, I think, definitely that was him. Or maybe not.

I look up from my confusion and find that C is staring at me, looking perplexed because after having said "So how is your…" I simply stopped talking. From his point of view, I’ve been sitting there with my mouth open, saying nothing for about a minute or so. "…dinner?" I add. He looks a tad confused. "Oh, fine." I try to continue as if there's no raging debate in my head over what I know but am not supposed to know. But, in just a few seconds, I do it again.

On New York.Me: "So how do you like living…" Stop. Can’t say "New York", not supposed to know he’s a recent transplant.

On education.Me: "It must have opened a lot of doors, having a…" Stop. Can’t say "Harvard education."

On his age.Me: "I’d hardly call you old at…" Stop. Not supposed to know he’s 36.

By the end of dinner C is shifting around in his seat, looking rather uncomfortable. During dinner, there have been at least six instances when I suddenly stopped talking mid-sentence, while asking myself the "Him or Google?" question. I’m fairly certain C’s convinced I’m either having a series of small seizures or simply incapable of finishing a sentence. Whatever he thinks, it’s obvious he’s hoping the waiter soon appears with the check.

On the way out of the restaurant, since things are going nowhere, I decide to have some fun. "So, " I say "would you like to…:" and purposely don't finish the sentence. I just stop talking, shake his hand and walk off.I'm not exactly sure why, but in my mind I hope that C told a friend that night about his date's rather odd disability. I like to imagine that friend agreeing the condition sounded strange and then suggesting "Let's Google it." If C and I ever run into each other again, he can be the one to worry about saying something he's not supposed to know.