There I was, single and at the freak show that is Vincent’s Nightclub in Randolph on an ordinary Saturday night, fully confident that I was not going to meet anyone even halfway worthwhile. Now it’s not that I hate this place – I honestly don’t. It’s a great place to go just to have fun with your friends, dance, and do some VERY serious people watching. I know of no other place where you can find a 50-year-old woman dressed in a half shirt and mini skirt standing alongside a guy sporting a head full of jerry curls and a velour shirt.

I was standing at the bar with Dawn when I turned around and he caught my eye. He was very tall with dark hair, huge brown eyes, and an extremely well-developed hockey butt. His name was Paul and he was just adorable. He told me he owned a health food and supplement store in a neighboring town and, as evidenced by his ability to crack walnuts between his butt cheeks, that he was very into health and fitness. He also told me he was 39 and owned a home in Dedham. So let’s summarize the situation here. Responsible – check! Common interests – check! Right age – check! Seriously smoking hot – double check!

We started dating and it was just great, but I did start to notice he was a BIT quirky. For example, on our first date he was wearing the same black dress shirt and black pants as when I met him. OK, no big deal. But then he wore the same thing on our second date, and our third, and our fourth… Basically the dude walked around dressed like a waiter. So of course I had to ask, “Do you own any other clothes”? He replied, “I also own two pairs of jeans, a couple of black t-shirts and a sweater, plus my gym clothes. It’s wasteful to own too much clothing.”

In keeping with his clothing is wasteful thinking, he didn’t wear any underwear, which is fine with me given that I’m normally commando myself, but one of his two pairs of jeans had a massive hole in the crotch. I asked him if MAYBE he thought he should buy a new pair of jeans or at least fix the hole and he said “Nah, no one notices anyhow.” You would think he would get a little cold with the wind blowing up around there but apparently this was not a concern. Still, he certainly looked ridiculously fantastic naked, so I decided I could get over it and we quickly settled into a little dating routine.

He would close down the store on weekend nights, put on the waiter outfit, and we would go out to eat somewhere nice. After that we would go back to my place, cuddle and watch TV, and he would leave in the morning and go directly to the store wearing his black t-shirt and crotch-less jeans. We would repeat this pattern over and over again every weekend.

So, after a couple of months, I finally had to ask him, “Why don’t we ever go to your house”? “Oh,” he said, “it’s really messy plus I don’t want you to be bothered with driving.” OK, figured I would let that slide along with the quirky clothes thing. Then another month passed by... so I asked again, “Gee, maybe we should go to your house this weekend.” “Nah, it’s still a mess,” he said.

It was at this point that I decided I had to do a little bit of detective work. I used a very high-tech investigative tool for this purpose. Now everyone pay attention here and write this down because I’m sure none of you have heard of this fascinating website before. It’s called GOOGLE. So I Google the guy and the first thing that pops up is that he really isn’t 39. No, he’s 45! Now I could understand if he was 54 and was afraid of me thinking he was too old for me, but I ask you all, what exactly is the purpose of him lying and saying he is YOUNGER than me by several years?? Next, I find an address for him and it’s the same as his parents. I confront him about these things, going so far as to tell him, “I’m giving you a get out of jail free card. Just tell me the truth.” Still, he continued to insist he was 39, owned a home in Dedham, and this “Google or whatever you call it” was wrong.

So I consult with Dawn on the matter and she suggested another highly sophisticated investigate method. Dawn plugged the parents’ address into a device called a GPS. This amazing little thing directs us and before very long we were slowly cruising by the house around midnight. As expected, his SUV was parked in the driveway and all the lights in the house were off, so one would assume everyone was inside sleeping. I again ask him, “Are you sure you don’t live with your parents and that you aren’t 45”? “Well, maybe I’m 45. But I really live by myself.” I told him I knew he was lying but he insisted that I was wrong. A little after that I got a text message from him “Joanne, I can’t date you anymore.” I tried to confront him on it, but he wouldn’t pick up the phone, answer any emails, etc. I never knew if he was really ashamed by his lies or if he had just stumbled upon the pictures from my most recent Cancun vacation. Hey, what can I say, tequila makes you do some crazy stuff!

Being middle-aged and divorced, the idea that someone approximately my own age could be a cellar dweller didn’t even occur to me initially. Unfortunately, I have now discovered this is a very common occurrence. When confronted, cellar dwellers will typically respond that they live with their parents because “they are older and need my help,” instead of the truth, which is usually “I’m lazy and my Mom makes a great meatloaf.”

As a result of that experience, I typically Google every guy I date right away just to verify that they truly are not a cellar dweller. Now I want to know…do you Google every person you are interested in dating, or do you just trust them initially until they raise a warning flag?

By Joanne Giannini