Screw you, Bridget Jones - volume 1

My co-workers are amused by my new single status.  Since most of them are married, they find it highly entertaining to listen to me ramble on about my bad dates, and lately there has been a lot of "you should blog about that" going around.  So in an effort to recapture the horror that is now my dating life, I am starting the new installment - Screw you, Bridget Jones - in order to chronicle the hysteria.  Brace yourselves, people.  It's gonna get bumpy.

Scene:
Valentine's Day, restaurant in Eugene, Oregon, packed with people who actually appear to like each other, or at the very least know each other. 

I agree to meet my friend Ryan's blind date set up - who we will refer to as SPJ - for a drink, maybe some food and a friendly "hi, how are ya".  The fact that it's Valentine's Day is not lost on me, so I run home and dress for the event in head to toe black.  Because I'm an optimist like that.  I text SPJ on my way to the restaurant, he says he will put the menu upright on the table so I know it's him.  Someone has done this before.  I walk in and see him right away.  Cute enough, bald, blue eyes, wearing a dressed up hoodie and jeans.  Suddenly my all black slacks, turtleneck and flats (he said he was 6', he's not) seem overdressed.  We sit and chat, have a few drinks, it's fine, but there's NO SPARK!  I keep drinking, in search of the elusive SPARK, I don't find it in the bottom of yet another Jack and Coke.  I don't want to be rude, but this is going nowhere.  He pays, we walk to the parking lot, he hugs me goodbye and makes a comment about how he likes hugging me???? and we are out.  I'm not even out of the parking lot when I get a text from him saying "Well, what did you think?"  About what?  A resolution for peace in the middle east?  I'm not sure I know what we are referring to at this point.  We go back and forth a bit, he says that he thinks I'm fun, blah blah blah, but he can tell I am sexually aggressive (good to know I'm putting THAT out there) and he wants to be straight with me about something.  I was like, ok, let's hear it.  He then goes on to tell me that he has a small penis.  Um, ok.  I reply with something brilliant/tourettesy like "Just how small IS it?"  and he goes on to say it's pretty damn small, and it's been a problem in his relationships.  I say something about how I'm not concerned (because I'm not - I wasn't going down the penis path to begin with, buddy) blah blah yada yada.  He travels for work, doesn't come through Eugene often it's been pretty easy to avoid a second date, though he does keep inviting me to visit him in his hometown, which is like a 3 hour drive - not happening.  Not to be a bitch, but I drive a Jeep, and gas prices are up there!  Nice enough guy, just not for me.  Poor SPJ.  And just for the record - you guessed it - that stands for Small Penis Jake.  Because his penis came with a disclaimer....like cigarettes.