Double Holy Shit

The second date was even better than the first.  We met at a bar and spent four hours playing pool and doing a crossword puzzle.  We laughed a lot, flirted, touched each other, and had the right chemistry that I have been trying to find for the last year and a half.

At one point, he returned from the bathroom and said he got me a present, a vending machine flipbook of erotic sexual positions from around the world.  Some women would see this as a second date red flag.  I swooned and put my hand on his thigh.

It is the day after and I realized that I've been thinking about him all day.  I literally do not have anything bad to say, no sarcastic remarks about ridiculous things he did or said.  This scares me a little because it means that I'm the one who is vulnerable, which is a feeling that I have not experienced in a long time.  I'm smack in the middle of the dating stage where two people who have chemistry and like each other are getting to know each other better to see if there's more potential there.  Dating is FUN!  Wait, did I just say that?

Holy Shit

I had a good date.  He was cute, funny, and smart.  He owns his own business and home.  He is liberal and values involvement with the community.  A mutual friend suggested we meet, not because we have anything in common, but because we both date a lot- although as I reflect, that shows we have a lot in common.  We met up for a walk around Greenlake and after doing the three mile loop, he suggested we get a drink.  Moving on to Round 2 on a first date is always a good sign.

We spent most of our time talking about dating and relationships, what they mean to us and why they have failed in the past.  After a pint of beer I let it slip that I had a blog.  He reacted well and told me that he liked my outlook on dating.  We agreed that we'd like to see each other again, and our first date ended with a hug.  I'd say that is a pretty typical conclusion for one of my first dates, but this time I meant it.

Within an hour of our date he texted me and told me he had a good time, so I got a little nervous and confused when the three day mark passed and he didn't contact me again.  But playing it cool, on the fourth day, he sent me an email:

"So when is our second date going to be?"

Confident and casual, just how I like my men.

 

How Not to Contact a Previous Partner

In July I had horrible, awkward, second-date sex with a man who was very polite and told me that he was not interested in a third date.  There were no hard feelings; the chemistry was off to begin with and I appreciated the honesty.  He said that he'd like to go out as friends, which of course is code for "I don't want to see you again."  That was the end of our contact.

I kept his number in my phone for one reason only.  It had been a year since I'd been tested, and if anything came back positive, it would be really uncomfortable to explain to our mutual friend why I needed his contact information.

July, August, September, October, November, December, and a few days in January passed before I finally got into Planned Parenthood.  When I was mailed squeeky clean test results a week later, I breathed a sigh of relief and deleted several male contacts from my phone who I was certain I would never, ever speak to again.  He was one of them.

Literally a few hours after I deleted these contacts, I got a call from an unknown number.  He identified himself, and my heart sank.  Obviously, in my mind, the only reason you would call a woman you slept with six months before is to give her some bad news.  Herpes.  HIV.  Chlamydia.  It didn't matter that I'd tested negative a week before- there are incubation periods and false negatives!!!  My mouth became dry as I braced myself for the worst and asked him why he was calling.

"So I have a couple friends that are going to be nurses, and I gave them your contact information if they had any questions.  Hope that's okay."

Seriously?!?  If you're going to sleep with a woman and then decide you're not interested in dating, you'd best pursue a casual friendship within the next month or so.  Call six months later, and you're asking for a minor freakout.

I Tried

I have to hand it to this man for taking me on a very pleasant date.  While it's not difficult to find vegetarian food in Seattle, he perused online menus before choosing an Italian restaurant with plenty of options.  He showed up to the restaurant early and not wearing flannel.  We had a nice conversation that flowed naturally, and he asked me an appropriate amount of questions about myself to show his interest.  He is clearly successful and is looking for a meaningful relationship.

In a very classy move, he had given our waitress his credit card before I came so there would be no arguing about who was paying the bill.  He walked me to my car and kissed me on the cheek.

He was intelligent and polite and a great catch for some woman out there, but I cannot, and will not, force a connection that I don't feel.  So when he asked me out again, although it pained me to turn down a quality guy, I ultimately said no.  I'm searching for that elusive spark.

Moving along, to 37 first dates.

New Year's Eve

I made out with a man who I'd met five minutes earlier as Seattle rolled into 2013. We saw everyone around us kissing, and he, being drunk, suggested we kiss as well. I, being sober and indifferent, agreed. His beard scratched my face, and I regretted the kiss immediately. Motherfucking men in this city and their facial hair.

"He makes a lot of money and owns his own place!" was the first thing that a mutual friend said to me. I guess that since I'm 30, those things are supposed to make me excited. They don't. I'd rather have a poor boyfriend who saves the world, travels, climbs mountains, and shaves occasionally.

He found me standing by myself a few minutes later and used the pickup line, "I told your brother I thought you're cute." Nice, I'm sure that's what my baby bro wanted to hear.

We talked a bit more and then he asked if he could kiss me again. I was wary about the beard but saying no sounded like a lot of effort, and I was tired. Lips locked for another minute or so before I said I was going home.

In a normal city, when you make out with a woman who's leaving a party, I believe the following happens:

You ask for her number.
You walk her to the door.
You offer to wait with her outside for a cab OR
You offer to walk her home.

None of the above happened last night. He said it was nice to meet me, and I left. And then, the thirty year old man who "makes a lot of money and owns his own place," asked my brother for my phone number.

The text message arrived twenty minutes after I left:

"R____, this is the creepy guy you met tonight. I would love to see you tomorrow or whenever. I really did like kissing you, but I am much better. How about dinner tomorrow? And yes, I'm a little forward."

HELLO MEN OF SEATTLE, there is nothing forward about asking a woman out on a date after you have already made out with her. In fact, offering to buy her dinner is probably the most respectful thing you could do given the circumstance.

I said yes. Why not?