My Valentines Day Date

Since my Valentines Day date was so horrible, I thought I'd share with you my faithful readers every gory detail. For those of you who are single and had to spend it alone, at least you didn't have my day.
I met this guy, we'll call him Mack, at the bar one night. He seemed very nice, had a job, bought my drinks as well as the drinks of the people I was with on more than one occasion. He was interested in the things going on in my life, called often, and really seemed like a decent fella. There was a ten year age difference, but I wasn't going to let that stop a potential love connection.
Our conversations have been that of normal people getting to know each other. In these conversations, he told me of his love of cooking and how much he loves to spoil the special person in his life. The fact he was 40 and had never been married should have sent out a warning bell. But, alas, my ears are deaf to those tones.
He asked that I come to his house on Valentines Day for a special dinner and an evening of engaging conversation. I was pretty excited about this, considering the past few years, I've been alone and I like getting flowers and an evening being all about me. I accepted with a smile and looked forward to the date.
I spend my normal few hours getting ready and pampering myself making sure I looked my best. As I'm looking for his house, I see an old man sitting in a recliner chair watching tv. I finally called him to find out what house was his. Yep..that's right. My date was that old man in the recliner chair watching tv. Every time I had seem him before, it had been sorta dark, and he always had a hat on. I'm not that shallow, so I entered his house with an open mind.
I open the door and walk into a small, but cozy little bachelor pad, complete with bar glasses and mirrored beer advertisements.
He smiled and said, "Everything’s all ready, if you want to grab the tv trays, I'll make you a plate."
I smiled and said ok, thinking he had to have been joking. He had a cleared off dining room table.
Then he says, "They are behind that chair there."
I pull out the first of the two tv trays stained, and slopped with the remnants of previous meals, and set them up in the living room, still thinking that it must be a joke and he has something else planned. He didn’t. Then it came. The dinner. First, the plate. The plate was a picnic plate that was cheap plastic, and a horrible design. I'm not shallow, I just want you to get the whole picture. The food. He made lasagna. He appeared as though he had taken something like a manicotti noodle, and cut them and tried to layer them. The curled noodles were topped with burned ground beef, cottage cheese, Co jack cheese, and what appeared to be tomato juice. The red liquid ran into the other thing on the plate, green beans. Next to the green beans was a sliver of French bread about 1/4 of an inch wide. As you can imagine, the lasagna didn't taste the best, the green beans tasted just like cat pee smells. The sliver of French bread was very tasty. You would have been proud Momma, I left half on my plate and claimed to be stuffed, just like the little lady you raised.
While we are sitting in our chairs, facing the tv, he starts to channel surf to find something to watch. He ends up watching a public access channel where they have horrible karaoke singers at a club called Dreamers which got us on our next gem of a conversation .We started talking about dreams, and I shared one of the dreams I had from the previous night with him.
His reply was, "I don't generally dream. I usually have to get up and 'give birth' and there have been times it stunk so bad that I haven't been able to go back to bed without having to open both the door and the window. Last night, I really thought I gave birth and I expected to see teeth and hair."
Nice. Thank you I know now I'll never be spending the night with you. Good info to learn early on.
As our conversation continued, I tried to figure out how in the hell I could get out of there without hurting his feelings. He's going on and on about how he forgot that day was Valentines Day in other words, he didn't get crap for me. I finally yawned and sniffled my way out the door when he lunges in for a kiss to which he quickly got my cheek. I laughed all the way to my car.
I'm not shallow. I love anything anyone does for me, even if it isn't good. The problem here was he raised an expectation to which he had no possible way of meeting. If I really felt like he did the best that he could, I would be telling you about my 'cute' date instead of my date from hell.
Today, he calls me to tell me that I'm perfect. The one he's been looking for, and he thinks he's falling in love with me and that he wants me to give him another chance. What do you think? Should I give Mack the knife or another try?