The Other Jason

Remember a few days ago, when I typed up the surprisingly long list of meMarmony matches and other dating adventures gone awry in the span of one short year and a half? On that list were two Jasons, which fully baffled me at the time, because "Two Jasons? Really?" I could totally remember only one (that being the Jewish guy who looked like a shorter and less attractive version of Lance Bass).

Well, it took me a full two days, but I finally remembered who the other Jason was.

Jason #2 (who I think was actually Jason #1) was another seemingly smart and well-traveled meMarmony match. He'd done a stint in the Peace Corps, and one of his photos featured him riding a tiny donkey in some strange, foreign basketball game. In much the same way I reasoned "Who else has a photo of themselves surrounded by a flock of penguins," I made the decision that a guy with a photo of himself on a tiny donkey deserved my consideration as well.

We emailed for a bit, and eventually made plans to meet for brunch one Sunday. And then, between the time we set the date and the day the date was to occur, I got another email from him, explaining that he'd thought he was ready to date after his recent breakup, but he realized he was being too hasty, that putting himself on meMarmony was a knee-jerk reaction to finding out that his ex was already dating someone else. Seeing as I'd joined meMarmony for the first time approximately a week after my ex-boyfriend started dating the harlot he would later marry, I couldn't fault him. I could totally relate.

He said he still wanted to get together, though. We can always use more friends, he reasoned. So we met for brunch, and it was... fine. If it had been a "real" date, I doubt we'd have had a second one. Since we decided in advance we were going to aim for being friends, though, I couldn't just cut him loose immediately. I mean, telling a guy "I don't really feel any chemistry" is one thing. But to tell him "I just don't even like you enough to hang out as friends?" Come on. Harsh.

There was nothing obviously wrong with him (aside, maybe, from how he decided I should do something different with my career and offered to be my life coach to make that happen). I just can't say we were particularly clicking, though. It happens, obviously.

I thought perhaps one of my friends might like him, though. Maybe in a group we'd do better conversationally. So I invited him to my friend Carrie's place to a small party/game night she'd planned. I remember it was 102 degrees in her top-floor, century-old, non-airconditioned apartment that night, but he was as good a sport as the rest of us. He and my friend Amy kept looking at each other, though, saying, "You look so familiar." All night, they traded questions to try to figure out where they'd met. "Where did you go to college?" one would ask. "Do you know [so-and-so]?" the other would counter back.

A few hours into the evening, Amy smirked a little and said to Jason, "I figured out how I know you." He looked at her waiting for the answer. "We went on a date once," she continued. Mystery solved, I guess.

She'd met him on Match about two years prior. He used the same tiny donkey picture for his profile then too. Also, they'd had what seemed like a reasonably OK date, and yet he never contacted her again afterwards.

I've realized the past few years that this city is shrinking. It was only a matter of time before my friends and I found and dated the same man, right? It's a shame we hadn't compared notes more thoroughly, though. Could've saved me a bit of trouble and dead-weight-ditching in this case.