My Second Internet Date - Back to MoMa

Fortunately, I don't discourage easily. My subscription to Jdate was still intact and I was determined to meet someone new. I further resolved not to repeat my previous mistakes. I was going to find an engaging, good-looking woman this time.

After searching for at least a week, viewing profiles, sending exploratory emails, I finally settled on a striking blonde from New York City. Historically, I have not dated blondes, but I thought maybe a change would be good. I contacted her by instant message and we hit it off well. We exchanged phone numbers and I called her.

She sounded nice on the phone. I don't know about you, but if I don't like a woman's voice, I can't go out with her. I know this one very pretty bartender I would love to date. I am not sure why the Almighty cursed her at birth with a high squeaky voice, but He did. Everytime I contemplated what a relationship with her would be like, I found myself imagining having to tell her to be quiet all the time. Admittedly, I love to hear the sound of my own voice, but all the time? Not even I am that vain. Close though. I always wondered about that Carly Simon song - "You're So Vain." She doesn't even know me!

Early into the conversation, I should have known something was awry. But like most men, my radar had been shut down, overcome by my superior desire to meet someone hot.

It turned out that she wasn't from New York City like it said in her profile. She actually lived in New Jersey, about an hour south of New York, which meant she lived 3.5 hours away from me. Another woman who values honesty, like they all do, had lied in her profile. Hardly around the corner, but I thought, if she was really great, I wouldn't mind the extra drive if it meant spending the weekend with her. There is always relocation. At the time though, I didn't realize it would mean relocation into a witness protection program.

As luck would have it, Sue came into "the city" quite often. And, guess what? She especially liked visiting museums. As I inhaled in preparation for a big sigh, because I had an idea of what was coming, she proposed meeting at the Museum of Modern Art. Don't get me wrong, I love art, I enjoy going to museums, but seriously, I had just been to MoMa. I didn't think I could tell her I had just been there with someone else. How would that look? It might damage my chances of wheedling my way into her heart. So I did what any man would do. I told her I loved MoMa and would love to meet her there. http://moma.org/

This time would be different. In the first place, I would drive down from Albany. I certainly didn't want to have to wait for a train if I needed to escape immediately. I had been through that once and even though there are other outstanding museums in New York, I knew I would be in no mood to wander around after being disappointed again.

It was not a sunny day. I looked at the forecast and rain was expected in New York. I took my new umbrella. I left my other one in the car of my first internet date. I neglected to retrieve it before I walked off into the sunshine.

I arrived in New York for my date, umbrella in hand, and waited at the designated time at the entrance to MoMa on 53rd Street. No striking blonde in site. I took out my cellphone and called. No problem. She was close and looking for a parking space.

About a half hour later, she called to tell me she was at the 54th Street entrance to the museum. She would walk through the lobby to find me. She asked what I was wearing so she could recognize me. Hadn't she seen my pictures online? And why did her tone sound suspiciously like the first line to a cybersex request? "What are you wearing?" Brace yourself, Sid.

In no time, a woman turns to me and asks: "Sid?" My unspoken response? "Who are you?" It was her all right. Sue. But which Sue was this? Certainly not the striking blonde I had seen online. First of all, she was a brunette. And, she was ugly. Quite ugly. Butt ugly. However, and I say this in all honesty, she had a fantastic posterior. Maybe with a paper bag over her head? Nah. This would never work.

"Hi, Sue. Nice to meet you," I said, choking on my words. NOT AGAIN! At least I wasn't in front of a hotel this time.

G-d bless my father. He's a great guy. He taught me to be a gentleman. He taught me to be kind to everyone, no matter what their station in life, no matter what they look like, no matter whatever. But Dad, is this fair? I could hear his voice resonate inside me. Sid, you should have asked for more pictures. Just suck it up and do the right thing. We got into line for tickets. I let her get ahead of me so I could at least admire her butt.

Despite her face, she was a nice person. She didn't seem overly bright, but she was able to converse as we waited our turn in line.

I looked up to G-d just like Tevye from the Fiddler on the Roof might have done, and asked: "Why? Why me? I don't deserve this." Feeling abandoned by my Creator, an evil thought popped into my head.

As I stood in line at the Museum of Modern Art for the second time in a month, I turned to my date and asked her: "Sue, did you ever see the movie Full Metal Jacket?" She replied that she had seen it many years ago but didn't remember it well. "Well," I said, "there was this very funny line from the movie. The drill sargeant barked at one of the recruits 'You're so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece!" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093058/

Was I going to get away with it? After all, we were in the Museum of Modern Art. Would she just think I was making a modern art joke or would she realize I was really talking about her? I held my breath as I waited for her response. Laughter, my dear readers! She thought it was funny! Flew right over her head. Apparently, she didn't think she was ugly. Vampires have no reflection. How could she know?

Happy with myself, we toured the museum. You can't really go wrong with great art, even if you have just seen it. After all, we watch reruns on television. We play cd's over and over. And for all her facial faults, she was a nice person. Did I already tell you about her butt?

As it turned out, Sue didn't have much appreciation for art. She thought everything was ugly. At least she never asked why I was always following her through all the exhibits.

Now that I think of it, whenever anyone sings the song "My Funny Valentine," he/she should specify what is meant by the line - "you're my favorite work of art." If the singer is referring to a piece at MoMa, it shouldn't necessarily be taken as a compliment.

All good things must come to an end. My date with "my favorite work of art," however, continued after we left the museum. I was hungry. I hadn't eaten all day. Manhattan has many great restaurants. What the hell? Why not eat?

We wandered around in the drizzle for a while until we settled on a Cuban restaurant. I can't resist ropa vieja, a Cuban brisket, and since it was featured on the menu in the window, we went in.

I was anxious to try the "ropa." It's one of my favorite dishes at a restaurant in Albany, so I wanted to compare. As I looked through the menu, my eye caught another favorite of mine. Mojitos, a rum drink with fresh mint, of course. I have always been a big fan of fresh mint, so I ordered one. It was delicious. Mind you, I drank it on an empty stomach, so it went to work quickly. By the time I was finished with it, my date no longer looked like a modern art masterpiece. She looked more like a lesser work of modern art you might find hanging in a museum in Peoria. It was a good enough improvement so that I wouldn't have to fear getting nauseous while I was dining. The ropa vieja, by the way, was excellent. Succulent even.

It was time to go back to Albany. We left the restaurant and I walked her to her car. Dad would want it that way. She wanted a kiss. Wasn't the museum and dinner enough? It's never enough. Vampires are never satisfied. I kissed her. Not bad, but I would never get beyond that face. I couldn't imagine her as my girlfriend. She would always be asking why I wanted to make love to her from behind. "Roll over, honey." Not even I can come up with that many excuses. Not to mention the fact that we could never appear together in public. I wonder if anyone saw me at the museum.

Museum - $40.00. Dinner and drinks - $120.00. Escape - priceless. I got back to Albany. Rack up another one to experience. Live and learn. I live, but will I ever learn?

I didn't call her after that. She had deceived me. I didn't feel she warranted a return engagement with Sid Stein. A couple of days later, I was telling a bartender about my trip. He said: "Butterface." I asked what that was. He explained that it describes a woman when everything looks good but her face. Ah, butterface!

Butterface called me that Friday. She told me she wanted to get together again. I hesitated. She asked if something was wrong. I told her: "Frankly, I feel deceived. That was not a picture of you that was posted." She insisted it was her. While I was still on the phone, I raced to my computer and looked her up. It wasn't her. Forget that her hair color was different. I can deal with that. Not even the nose was the same.

Telling Sue that I knew about her deception didn't phase her much. She still wanted to see me. She wanted to set a time for a new date. I told her again that the picture looked nothing like her and it must be someone else. She told me to think about it and get back to her over the weekend. I never did.

0 for 2, Sid! Better luck next time.