You remember the first guy from the on-line dating website, right? Well, T. has been texting me every so often telling me to let him know if I wanted to grab a drink together or if I wanted to go for a walk with his dog and him. He even texted me when I was in the Seattle airport waiting to meet my cousin and my uncle.
Monday at work was slightly stressful for me. I wanted (i.e. needed) a drink of the alcoholic variety! I asked someone in the office if they’d like to go for drinks, but they couldn’t as they had to pick up their kids from school. I was going to ask another friend, but knew already that they have time limit of an hour after work to do something in and that’s it, due to obligations. So I texted T. to see if he wanted to get a drink together. Even he was unable to on Monday, but suggested Tuesday night instead. I went home on Monday with all kinds of plans to be semi-productive, but pretty much laid on my bed, took a nap and surfed the web instead.
When Tuesday came around, we agreed to meet at my neighborhood French wine bar. He said that he’d only been in there once for a single glass of wine, but hadn’t stayed long. I arrived before T. and was chatting with one of the bartenders when another French friend that I hadn’t seen in about a year approached me. He and I were engaged in a long conversation when T. suddenly showed up and stood next to me. He said that he didn’t want to interrupt the conversation. I introduced T. to my friend, who had to leave, anyway. T. had already put his coat at a table, but mine was already sitting on the back of a bar stool. He asked which I preferred; I said that I prefer to sit at the bar whenever possible. He had a flight of reds; I had a flight of champagne. He also ordered some mushroom flatbread and olives, which he ate most of, since I wasn’t particularly hungry. He then had another flight of reds and I had a single glass of something red that the bartender said had a barnyard smell. Even with my congestion, the odor of hay and manure came through to me! I decided to hazard a taste, anyway. Once I got past the smell, I really liked it. After that, we moved on to a little dive bar down the street and drank a couple of beers apiece.
As for the conversation, he asked me about Paris, a place he’s never been. He told me that he’s visiting a friend in Phoenix this weekend, then will probably go visit his brother in Hawaii in June or July; his brother recently moved there. I asked him about his last real relationship. I believe that it was someone he’d met on-line, then they ended up moving in together for 2 or 3 years. As to why it ended, he didn’t say. He commented that he thinks San Francisco has one of the best music scenes around, as well as some of the best food. I tend to disagree with him about the music scene. I said that if he’s talking about what famous acts play here, well, they play every major city around the world. Yet if he’s talking about the LOCAL live music, I seriously have to disagree with him about there being any massive talent here! I agreed with him on the food, as far as high end restaurants. I once again disagreed when it comes to casual ethnic foods. I believe that Los Angeles has San Francisco beat hands down for authentic Thai, Chinese and Mexican. My ex-roommate, who’s Japanese and from SoCal, said the same thing about Japanese food. I also think that, in many respects, Hawaii has better Asian food and seafood. I honestly don’t remember what else we talked about; I’d been drinking and was not paying THAT much attention! In other words, I was NOT hanging on every word he said.
Let’s skip to the physical part of it. At the French wine bar, T. was giving me lots of little hugs. I have no idea why ’cause it was annoying as hell. By the time we got to the dive bar, he was resting his hand on my leg. He also grabbed my hand and started tracing circles in my palm. Honestly, my first reaction was to pull away immediately, but I didn’t want to offend him. I think he was hoping that I would be a little more physical with him, but he was getting nothing from me. I just kept talking, as if oblivious to the fact that he was getting a little too close and in my personal space. If I was attracted to him in that way, it wouldn’t have annoyed me. As it was, I wanted to run back to my apartment screaming at the top of my lungs “A boy touched me and boys have cooties!’ (Not really that bad, but damn close.)
It’s not as if T. is an unattractive ogre. When I saw him again at the wine bar, I said to myself “He’s an attractive enough man for his age.” The mere fact that I had to throw “for his age” in there must mean that he seems old to me or that I feel there’s a better match out there for me. He’s a perfectly nice man… who would probably bore the hell out of me inside of a couple of weeks, if not sooner. I like ’em a little wild, a little unpredictable, a little sexy, a little crazy. He’s none of those things, in my opinion. More importantly, if I can’t imagine kissing a guy, I certainly can’t imagine anything else happening, much less being in an actual relationship. I spent the rest of the evening wondering if he would try to kiss me and dreading the mere thought. He insisted on walking me all the way to my front door, though I told him that I was perfectly safe. It IS my neighborhood, after all. If I’ve been able to stagger home drunk or sick with the flu at ungodly hours, then his company, though chivalrous, wasn’t necessary. Lucky for him, he did NOT try to kiss me at the front door. In that respect, a potentially very awkward scene was avoided. I certainly wasn’t sending those vibes out, but men often try to ignore that gut feeling and go for the gusto! He mentioned that we should have dinner together when he returns from Phoenix. I didn’t really respond to the part about us having dinner together; may have said that I like the restaurant he suggested! Somewhere in the evening’s conversation, I vaguely remember him asking something like “Well, what about you and me?” I think I talked about my favorite music and continued to drink!
Honestly, I don’t plan to go out with him again. I can now definitively say that I’m not attracted to him in that way. More than likely, he’ll text me when he returns. More than likely, my return text will thank him for the offer of dinner, explain that I don’t like to lead men on and say that there’s no chemistry for me. We can be friends who hang out together on occasion, but most guys don’t want to be friends when they feel they’ve been shot down. Sorry, but I want to feel butterflies when a guy likes me and vice versa. I felt nothing in two dates.
Now I have two more dates set up this week. Both guys want to do something in the Mission. A little secret – most of the time, I hate the Mission. But I’m willing to meet them halfway, so to speak, and try to put forth a little effort. I’ll put on something appropriately grungy and mentally go to my “happy” place!