I hear banjo music.. this can't be good.

Date #1 - coffee with bachelor #1 was fantastic. Met at 9:30, stayed until 11:15, which is a good sign. Conversation was great! Bad part is that he's heading out of the country until the 27th, but he did send a text today, so I take that as something hopeful. I like him! : )

Now for date #2. Yes folks, I had ANOTHER hick. I think this is the 4th one. They lurk 'round these parts I guess (shit, did I just say that?). This one has a degree in physics and is an engineer. What college gave THIS guy a degree? It's frightening to ponder. We agree to meet for a drink and he picks the place - sounds like a sportsbar. Fine by me, but I'd never been there, so I didn't know what to expect. Shithole. That's what it was. I was pretty offended when I saw the place. I drove past and proceeded to call my sister-in-law, asking if she thought I should even go in. I've never ditched on a date, but c'mon - you don't take a girl to a shithole moron. You instantly told me just how much you thought of me at that point. I mean - hello? 1st date? A shithole? Come to think of it "The Shithole" would have been a better name. Think I'm lying? The waitress locked the door after we came in and I innocently asked if they were closing (please, please be closing so I can leave) and she replies, "No, at night we lock the door. You have to ring the bell to get in. We've been robbed too many times." Seriously.

So yeah, the guy is a hick. He talked about cement, which he pronounced SEE-ment and how all the guys he works with get "ripped drunk" all the time. Note: they are working on a huge construction project in Charlotte. I will never. EVER. set foot in that building. THESE are the guys constructing this? Oh, and he talked about fly fishing. And Nascar.

The only note-worthy event of the night is when I bent down to scratch a mosquito bite. He says, "what's wrong?" I say "nothing, just a mosquito bite I got while jogging." He says: "Yeah, you must work out a lot. I noticed you have incredible legs when you walked in." Nice compliment, except he proceeds to reach down and pat, pat me on the calf. What am I? A freakin' thoroughbred and you're patting to check my muscle density? Like "Yup, I'd put a saddle on this one and ride in allllllllllllllll day long!" (Please say with the hick-i-est accent you can muster). Or perhaps I'm like a car and he's "kickin' the tires"? Yeah, no checking the goods for stability, my friend.

I lasted one hour, watching the clock the entire time. He wants to see me again. I want to see a therapist and find out why I keep picking hicks.

Oh, and my good friend *Gina went out with a guy last night who's crown kept falling out and he kept apologizing. Teeth falling out? I say deal-breaker. She might go out with him again. As Gina says, "Girl's gotta eat."