on a treasure hunt {part 4}

The date did not go well, as you read in part 3. You can cancel your plans to start saving for a trip to Iowa for my wedding, in other words.

Treasure House Man talked and talked and asked very few questions about me, which left me, 90 minutes later, with many quotes from him. Peruse below, if you'd like, and try to imagine how you'd respond. Keep in mind that your contributions to the conversation will be limited to about one sentence at a time, so try to make it count.

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A Small Treasure of Quotes

I Am Not Miss Muffet
Treasure House Man did ask a few things about me, but he mostly used my answers as jumping off points for either telling a story about himself or for making the kind of comment it's hard to know how to respond to.

He asked, for example, "What's your favorite meal?

It's meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans, and my mama makes it for me whenever I go home to Iowa.

His response: "Do you use homogenized milk in your mashed potatoes?"

Well. Yes. I buy my milk from the store and do not keep a cow on the balcony to milk.

I am not Miss Muffet sitting on her tuffet eating her curds and whey.

The Downfall of Language and Society: Carrots
After accusing me of using corporate-speak, Treasure House Man went on a tirade about people who use verbs as nouns and how that bothers him because shifting meaning leads to the downfall of language. And as language goes, so goes society.

He said, "You see, words are what give us meaning. Without those, I could point at this" [holds up umbrella] "and call it a carrot."

And then he awkwardly laughed, looked at me expectantly, and then proceeded, throughout the rest of the night, to randomly pick up his umbrella and say, "CARROT!"

No, Really, I'm a Grown-up
He lives with his parents right now, but, as he pointed out, "I totally have my own space. I always make sure to have at least two closed doors between me and them."

He's 38, by the way, and with the two closed doors rule, I can only imagine that he's hiding out in his bedroom closet.

All Teachers Have IQs of 110
He's a certified K-12 teacher but currently unemployed. He's hoping to get back into education, but certainly will not be teaching elementary school or middle school ever again because "all the teachers there have IQs of about 110. They're idiots who don't know the systems and ideology behind what they're doing, which I do."

I would like to apologize to all my teacher friends now on his behalf. I don't think you're idiots.

May the Force Be with You
I asked him about his work at the University of New Mexico, and he said, "Have you ever been to Albuquerque? It's a wasteland. I'm a huge Star Wars fan, and that place is the earth equivalent of Mos Eisley. [Insert LOOOOOOONG quote from Star Wars here.] You know?"

And the thing is, I do know: my sister and one of my brothers are huge Star Wars fans, so like the good little sister I am, I watched it a lot with them. I can picture Mos Eisley. I can get that buzz of nostalgia when I see a scene from any of the original movies.

But that doesn't mean I want to hear a chunk of the movie quoted at me, although I suppose this served as just another example of this: He is not the man I'm looking for. {Raise your hand if you got that Star Wars reference. And yes, I know I'm revealing my inner nerd.}

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Was I disappointed?

Was I hoping that this date would lead to a second date and then to a third date and then to too many dates to count—until we had a wedding date?

No.

On a rainy Saturday, this came out of the blue. He came out of the blue, complimenting me even though I wasn't feeling very pretty and reminding me that you never, ever know what will happen when you step out your front door in the morning.

You could end up with a new springform pan, a date, and a story—and all that sounds like a good day to me.