Sometimes, I’m obviously not number one on a guy’s list of “ladies he wants to date” or even hang out with. That was the case with Micah.

Micah was the first fella I agreed to meet in person after I started online dating. He played racquet sports like squash and tennis. He ran his own company helping students prepare for standardized tests like the SAT.

We arranged to meet at a gelato place because he had been cute and flirty with me and joked I could have the little cookie that comes with the gelato.

The day before we were to meet, Micah sent me an email through the website.

He apologized and said he had to cancel because he was going out of town on business. He made no mention of meeting up again.

This was my first online dating cowboy, but this was not my first time at the dating rodeo. I highly doubted his story. No suggestion to meet again after a cancellation means no meeting will take place.

A few months passed. I got my first post-divorce boyfriend until that phase of the relationship ended. Then I went back online to find others to meet for sip and goes.

Ding.

My mailbox lit up with a message from Micah.

Four months had passed, but he finally wanted to meet for gelato. I agreed entirely because I knew the afternoon would include a nifty tale about the cancellation months ago.

I gave my usual greeting hug I do to every one of the online dates when we first meet in person. I do that because, frankly, so many of the men are nervous. The hug says “It’s okay. We’re already pals. Relax.”

Micah hugged me like he was a woman hugging the coworker she hates and who stabs her in the back every time she turns away. Or he hugged like I had cooties. In other words, it was as though someone had forced Micah to hug me.

We ordered our gelato. He did not offer me his cookie.

“So I have to tell you why I really cancelled last year,” he said to me. “I met someone else around the same time. It moved really fast. That was probably why we broke up two weeks ago. It got too serious so soon.”

“Oh that’s too bad. Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s hard. I thought she was the one,” he muttered.

There was a frozen silence while Micah stared down at his gelato.

The already slow conversation slid further downhill.

Our conversation drifted to our jobs and the recent tragic shootings in our town. But he barely looked at me, barely smiled, and he cut the afternoon short with “I gotta get some work done.”

We exchanged weak hugs and parted ways.

Not only was I at least second on Micah’s list, but his heart wasn’t into dating anyone so soon after the other relationship he had, and we had NO chemistry together.

But I got to eat gelato.