A note: It’s been a really long time since I’ve updated this and I’m going to assume you’ve all gone on with your lives, as have I. Point in case: I’m now coming to you from Los Angeles, exploring the (significantly lessened) lumberjack crew down in these here parts. If you’ve given up on me, it’s cool. It’s not you, it’s me. Some lucky reader is going to be so happy to have this blog in her life, it’s just not you. For those who will continue to indulge my navel-gazing examinations of why dating fucking sucks, onward!
Pertinent stats: 6’3″. Which is really probably enough said, but okay, let’s see. 33. I’m bored and a little lonely and uh, sexually frustrated, so it’s really not taking much for me to say yes to dates these days. The nickname will be explained in due time but not in this post so bear with me. He manages a Baskin-Robbins, which may have everything to do with why I said yes to seeing him–I can be real naughty for free Jamoca Almond Fudge.
Beardliness: Nein! Nein bearden. (Definitely accurate German.) But he is my favorite height, so probably that’s a solid foundation for love.
Date itinerary: Meeting at Starbucks (I’m turning into a coffee snob because a small shudder passes through me at this thought but fuck it, what else am I doing on a Monday night?) for coffee. The non-committal date. Fine by me. We’ve been texting back and forth for a few weeks trying to figure out a date and when I’m tipsy in New Orleans with some girlfriends, I’m throwing some heavy flirtage his way so kinda have to pony up and drink the burnt Starbucks coffee now.
Recap and highlights
When I show up, realize two things: He doesn’t really look like his photos but I am way more attracted to who he is in person and also, he looks just like my best friend’s older brother. Suspiciously like him………….it maybe is him.
Conversation starts out okay–he’s telling me horror stories about working at Baskin-Robbins which is making me laugh(ish) and he buys me a coffee (chivalry cannot be capped, except at $3!). I run a pretty aggressive question game–which is, of course, a diversionary tactic from having to be too real myself with someone–but I decide to let it lapse a little bit to see if he’ll pick up conversational slack. Nope, nothing doing. Instead, he peppers in, “You are really cute. You’re just really cute.” To my everlasting chagrin, I giggle and act like I’m eating it up when all I really want to say is, “Please, go fuck yourself and try to get to know me like a human being.”
I’m not sure what it is in me that’s programmed to automatically giggle like a maniac when someone tosses a compliment my way, regardless of how I feel about it. I’ll go ahead and say it’s the chubby eighth grader version of KBM inside who can’t seem to get it together enough to be authentic/cynical. “A man?! Finding little ole me attractive? Heavens to Betsy, whatever do I do??”
At some point, I get up to go to the bathroom just so I can stop fake smiling and nodding along to everything he’s saying. Good sign, there.
On the subject of travel:
Me: “Your profile says you want to travel–where do you want to go first?”
Him: “Definitely Europe.”
Me: “Oh cool, where in Europe?”
Me: [confused puppy head cock]
I’ll end this on that note.
Price tag: Under $4 date for him. I do not feel guilty about not being more into him!
Grade: C. Mean but true. I feel very little either way for him–he’s certainly nice, at one point in the date I was attracted to him, but that interest is flagging for sure by the end of the evening. But on the other hand, first dates are hard and I can count (as can you, dear reader) on much less than one hand the amount of times I’ve come out of one excited about somebody (at least as far as the online brouhaha goes).
Bottom line: I’ll see him again because why the hell not. Maybe it’ll get better? But second date will have to really up the actual human interest in me factor (also: what the fuck, geography?) for this to have any sort of decent shot.