“I think you might be my dream girl.”
Pertinent stats: Met this guy at a mixer the week before– very nice, very obviously into me, which doesn’t usually play all that well with me. (Should maybe examine that issue sometime.) Insists on calling me because he doesn’t like to text so we’ve spoken on the phone a few times. Doesn’t bode well for either one of us that twenty minutes before the date, I’m fantasizing about going home, putting on sweats and the customary ponytail and watching Seinfeld until I fall asleep, but I’m trying to remain optimistic. Bribe myself that if I make An Effort to be open and at least give myself a shot at being into this guy, I won’t feel bad about the salt and pepper chips I’ll destroy tomorrow during Game of Thrones.
Beardliness: Zero beards.
Nope. I’m an equal opportunity facial hair dater, apparently.
Date itinerary: Meeting for dinner at Duende, a cool Spanish-fusion place in downtown Oakland which he says is one of his favorites and as a chef, I’m willing to take his opinion on food.
Recap and highlights
Duende’s great and I’ll definitely be coming back to this place sometime. We try sea urchin which is actually not half bad. If nothing else, dates make me more adventurous. The first thing he mentions is that he had no idea how young I was when I first met him– he seems really freaked out by the fact that he’s 32 and I’m 25 because it comes up about three more times during the evening.
He gets to talking, because this man is a champion talker. I don’t normally mind that– I’m insanely chatty with my friends but I tend to like to sit back and listen on dates because it’s easier and frankly asking questions is a pretty good skill of mine, but this guy is something else. When there’s a conversational lull, instead of asking me a question or trying to relate to me, he stares at me for a few seconds then says, “Wow, you are so pretty.” Am I the only woman on the planet who cannot stand that? It always comes off as a line, particularly when you’re not really making the slightest effort to get to know me.
We start talking about tv (which he declares to be “pedantic” ) and, when he asks what tv shows I’m watching (Game of Thrones, Mad Men, The Mindy Project) replies, “The Mindy Project– I saw an episode of that once, it might be the worst show ever. Romantic comedies are the death knell of intellectualism.” Oh, hey, fuck you! He also says that people who don’t like to read are what’s wrong with the world and that he would never waste time being friends with any of them because they’re “just not as smart.” Huh. Ok. I’m an avid reader but I can also appreciate that there are all kinds of passions in this life, many of which I cannot and will never care about. Are those passions any less important than reading? Do we really need to make blanket statements about what makes someone a good citizen of the world? At this point, I’m “mmming” and “uh-huhing” and hoping he eats a little more quickly.
Also have this rather disturbing interchange.
NOLA Chef: “I used to believe in love but I don’t any more.”
Me: “You don’t believe in love. At all?”
NOLA Chef: “I’m not sure that I do. Have you ever been in love?”
Me: “Yes.”
NOLA Chef: “Hmm. Well, maybe I’ll start to believe again. I mean, we just have so much in common, I’m asking myself if you’re real or my dream girl.”
Me: “MmHMMM.”
NOLA Chef: “Just don’t be a heartbreaker.”
It’s hard to know what we have in common because he hasn’t really asked me anything about myself at all. Just because I got your “Big Trouble in Little China” reference does not a dream girl make. So there’s that.
We part at BART and he absolutely goes in for the kiss, but I cheek him, hard. I think sometimes I accidentally lead guys on because I’m doing my best to make sure that we’re not having an awkward time, so I ask a lot of questions and try to really act interested in what he’s saying but there was definitely more, shall we say, authenticity on my end this evening. Not sure that he got the memo, though.
Price tag: Ok, he makes the very cool move of McGuyver-ing the check on his way back from the restroom so I have no idea how much he spent but definitely was not cheap. Immediately ruins the effect by seeming way too proud of this move.
Grade: This grade category really makes me feel like a bitch sometimes, but C+. The food was the “+” there.
Bottom line: This is what I hate about dating. I feel some sort of obligation to see this guy again because of the good dinner and the fact that it couldn’t have been cheap and also I can really tell that he’s into me, but it’s really not happening for me. I was actually actively annoyed by him. I do not want to see more of him, but I have that female guilt complex of like, “Well, shit, I should give it another shot because he seems so nice and he fed me.” Am going to try something new and listen to what I’m actually feeling, so no, no third date. (Goodbye home cooked gumbo, I barely knew thee.)
Kissing Bearded Men 