If Your Friend Was Undatable, Would You Tell Them?
If Your Friend Was Undatable, Would You Tell Them?
Some people have a character flaw that makes them highly undatable.
And I don’t mean moral flaws. Severe moral flaws obviously disqualify. A friend of mine discovered that her boyfriend steals kid’s toys and resells them. That was the end of him, and rightfully so.
But some people have a character flaw that doesn’t make them morally bad, just impossible in some way.
Why Max Was Undatable
I was 23. I met a good looking guy in a bar. He worked out. He smelled nice.
The bar was loud. I couldn’t make out what he is trying to say. But I could tell he had an accent.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
He said it three times but I couldn’t figure it out.
“Louder!” I yelled.
“Austria!” he yelled.
Indeed the accent sounded like Arnold’s.
He scribbled “Max” and a number on the back of a peeled beer label and gave it to me. I wrote my digits on his arm.
Max called the next day. I couldn’t hear him very well. I wondered whether he is speaking quietly or if there is a problem with the line. I suggested we meet at La Café, A trendy café on College Street.
“smhgs…” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Seven” he said at a higher volume.
“Yes. Seven.” I agreed.
He waited for me outside of La Café. We walked in together. We got one of the few free tables left in the back. Soft music played. The waitress came promptly. We ordered cappuccinos.
This was a perfect place to chat. Not loud, but not so quiet that everyone can hear. Have you ever been to one of those places so quiet the bartender can hear every word? Those are annoying. Luckily this place was not like that.
I was good at small talk. At this point I’ve been working in bars for a while and can get anyone talking.
I asked him what he did today. He said something. I didn’t hear it. I asked again. He said it again. I didn’t hear it. I leaned in close. I couldn’t make out a word. Can you say it louder? I asked.
“I worked and went to the gym.”
“Oh. Great. What did you train?”
He said something. I didn’t hear it. “Can you say that again?”
“Arms!”
“I can tell.” I flirted.
He smiled.
“Where do you work?” I asked.
He said something.
“Can you speak louder?”
He said something again.
I looked around. I realized I could make out what the gothy girl a table over was saying. She was talking about getting her dog a Marylin Manson collar. I could hear the waitress asking the guy behind me if he wants a refill. I could make out the lyrics of Seal’s “Kiss from a Rose” playing in the background.
There is so much a man can tell you
So much he can say
You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain, baby
I nodded. Then I started to tell him about my day.
He smiled.
I told him about my workout. I told him about the art show I am organizing. I told him about how I used myself as a model for a painting but it came out wrong. I told him how I need new paint brushes because the last ones I bought were cheap and frayed out fast and the bristles came out and stuck to my painting. I had to pick them out with tweezers.
Sometimes he said something. I nodded and kept talking. The more I talked the more I averted the uncomfortable situation of asking him to speak louder again.
After about an hour of talking I decided that I was done. As nice as he was to look at, I didn’t want to date someone who mumbles and whispers.
I told him I have to go. What reason did I use? I don’t remember. I certainly didn’t tell him the truth.
He called a few times. I never met with him again.
There Was This Thing About Natalia
Natalia was the most beautiful girl in the Toronto Rock scene. I was beautiful too of course. But when she walked in to the room, all eyes were on her first. No hard feelings from me. Beauty is beauty.
Natalia rented an apartment in an old Victorian home on a quiet lane with tall trees in downtown Toronto. Her parents sent her money from Russia. I don’t know if she worked. I think she did other girls nails sometimes.
Every three months she had a new boyfriend.
“She is like Katherine the Great and needs a new lover every week!” People joked.
One night at the Horseshoe Tavern I sat at a table with Lisa, Mike, and Strambala. The three of them played in a gothy ska band. They just finished sound check. They were cool and funny and never asked for free stuff. Strambala had a plumbing business. He always offered to buy people drinks.
Joey sauntered in.
“Hey! Thanks for coming man! Where’s Natalia?” Strambala shouted.
Tall handsome Joey drummed for a grunge band by night and landscaped by day. His long brown hair always in a befitting rocker disarray complemented his chiseled tanned face. “She’s not coming.”
“Why not? Are you guys fighting?” Strambala asked.
“Oh, I don’t know…” Joey said as he dragged a chair away from an empty table. “I just don’t know about her anymore.”
Strambala raised his bushy eyebrows, “Dude!”
“What happened?” I asked.
Joey pulled his chair next to me. “She is just so annoying.”
“She makes you pierogies and packs you lunches my man,” Strambala shouted. His curly locks bounced as he guffawed. He was quite a looker himself.
“Look, I know…” Joey said as he waved at the waitress.
“What exactly does she do?” Lisa asked.
Mike said nothing. Lisa is his girlfriend and gets jealous fast.
“It’s just that all she does is talk about her cat and her grandmother.” Joey said.
“If I was with her I’d let her talk about her cat and grandmother all she wants.” Strambala said.
“You don’t understand. Like even when we are doing it she stops to talk. I can’t even finish.”
Strambala laughed. Lisa rolled her eyes. Mike stayed quiet. I shook my head and ordered a Sleemans.
Next week Joey broke up with Natalia.
Two weeks later Strambala asked Natalia out.
A month later Strambala moved in with Natalia. Four months later, Strambala moved out.
Was It Really Natalia That Was The Problem?
One night before Strambala and Natalia broke up, I ran into the momentarily happy couple at the Wheat Sheaf Tavern. They just finished eating.
I was with Richy. A guy I met at U of T. He was taking political science I think.
Natalia signaled for us to join them. I looked at Richy. He shrugged. I took it as a yes.
In retrospect I don’t think Richy wanted to join. The entire music scene and the people in it proved too wild for him. We only went on a few dates. This night he had a good time though.
Me and Natalia weren’t close. We only hung out when we ran into each other at shows. The last time was at the Big Bop. It was the end of the night and Natalia was drunk. She translated Russian jokes into English. The jokes got lost in translation, but the absurd sounding punchlines had everyone howling. In my book Natalia was a hoot and potentially a friend.
Natalia and Strambala just finished their food. Richy and I ordered a platter of wings and a pitcher of some beer Richy liked that I later decided was the shittiest beer ever. I wished I remembered it so I could never order it again.
Strambala asked Richy to play pool.
The boys went off and I sat at the table with only Natalia. She wasn’t drinking. She was meeting her aunt at the airport next morning and didn’t want to look off.
Natalia told me about her aunt. Her aunt was her favorite aunt when she was little, but stopped being her favorite aunt after she read her journal.
I started to tell her about my aunt, but Natalia cut me off. She wanted to tell me about her grandmother.
Natalia told me how her grandmother moved from a small village to Moscow. How she tried to recreate a village in a city. This was interesting.
Natalia told me how her grandma made her favorite dishes and how no one else makes food like her. She told me how her grandma made her dresses and helped her dress.
I nodded.
Drinks came. Natalia talked.
The food came and Richy and Strambala came back to the table. Natalia talked.
Me and Richy ate. Natalia talked.
Richy and Strambala took their drinks and went to play pool again. Natalia talked.
I went to the bathroom. Natalia followed me and talked as we walked. Then she talked while I peed and while I flushed the toilet. She talked while I washed my hands and retouched my makeup. My mom called. Natalia kept talking while I talked to my mom.
At one point Natalia sighed. I thought that maybe I would get to say a word now. It was not be. She reached into her purse and took out a picture of Mia, her cat.
I was feeling buzzed. I wanted to go play pool with the boys. Natalia put her hand on my arm as to signal her objection. I was going to hear about the life of Mia now.
Everytime I glanced at Ritchy, Natalia tapped me on my arm. She demanded my eye contact.
Ritchy and Strambala laughed and played. They were drunk and enjoying it.
I no longer made out what Natalia was saying. I just nodded and nodded.
It became obvious to me that she missed her grandma very much and that Mia was all she had in Canada. I felt bad about this. But there was no way I could be her friend. Not even out of politeness did she allow me to finish a single thought. I totally understood why Joey left. And I totally understood why Strambala hogged Ritchy to himself. He wanted to shoot the shit and have a good time and not listen to never ending grandma stories.
However, if Strambala wasn’t going to return Ritchy to me soon, I was going to get upset.
I ended up not upset. Ritchy was returned to me soon and Strambala paid our entire tab.
It was the last time I ever sat beside Natalia.
As A Friend, What Would You Say To Max Or Natalia?
I was in my early 20’s when I met Max. I suppose I could have explained to him why I don’t want to see him again. I mean I asked him to speak louder a dozen times. Was that not enough of a hint? Did I own him a lengthy explanation?
I wondered if he had some health or neurological issue. But he seemed to understand me just fine, and I understood him perfectly once he spoke up.
Natalia continued to have temporary relationships. I wasn’t close to Natalia. Her behavior overwhelmed me and made me run away. Certainly I didn’t feel like it was my place to tell her anything.
As a friend would you tell Max that his whispering and mumbling may be making him undatable?
As a friend would you tell Natalia that her nonstop talking is too much for people?
Some may argue and say: People have to like you for you. Be yourself!
Sure, but if you had a character trait that was so off-putting, wouldn’t you want to be told about it?
Once you know you can still chose to “be yourself.”
Or you can chose to consider how you come across to others and adjust in a way that makes you more socially palatable but still preserves your authenticity. That takes work. But the reward may be worth it.
A few years ago through word of mouth I heard that Natalia recently married. It took over 20 years but she finally found someone who was okay with the way she was. Then again perhaps she changed over the last two decades.
I have no idea how things worked out for Max.
Thank you for being here.
Joey found me on Instagram 20 years later. Read about it here:
OMG SOOO ROUGH.
Im actually feeling pain for you experiencing that.
What I think is that Canadians are SOOO POLITE. The put up with anything.
They Certainly put up with my shit !