My Cup of Tea, Apparently

I set-up a date with a nerdy looking doctor because I'm apparently into that; I couldn't fault all doctors for my former's terrible bedside manner. We agreed to meet for coffee and he suggested an 8pm date. Seriously? He settled for a bit earlier and I knew I could skedaddle with exaggerated yawns if I had to.

I knew within the first minute that he and I would never be a romantic match. First off, he was about my height or a bit shorter and the greeting was as awkward as an accidental hug from a coworker. I knew I'd be carrying the weight of the conversation so I sat back and chatted endlessly. The second I had zero interest, I was able to converse uninhibited which was quite refreshing. I took a "too-cool" leaned back position and sipped my cup of tea. I didn't care about getting to know the doctor so our topics ranged from travel to school to life lessons.

In that, I asked what advice he'd give to his younger self to which he had none. Mine? Never have the third martini. He looked shocked.

Me: what?
Him: Oh, I guess I would tell myself to have a second one.

How could I possibly be expected to find true love with someone who has never experienced the exhilaration and agony and shame that accompanies a third martini??

He asked me about my foot injury ( I was really on a roll with those boot-filled first dates) and I asked him about his specialty. Are you a GP? No, I'm a nephrologist.  That instantly made me grin and he asked if I knew what that meant. Oh, you said nephrologist?? Yes, I'm familiar. Let me tell you a story. I dated one recently.

Can't make this stuff up, folks. I somehow moved from Bumble to Nephrologists Only and really found myself a niche market.

I promptly painted a picture my strep laden condition and asked how he would have reacted in that situation. He told me he didn't know me well enough to want to touch my glands. Is that date 4? I guess the whole young kidney doctor thing really peaked his curiosity and he asked if he could guess the guy. Sure. Why not? There must be only a handful of eligible Chicago-based kidney docs; at this point I was more than amused. We played a game of three questions which led him to guess the guy I dated. There could not be two more physically opposite people.

This turned out to be the best thing that could happen to this coffee date and I smiled to myself for the next few minutes. He, on the other hand, was not impressed. He politely paid for our $6 check (don't impress me with your money) and called it a night. He was nice to text making sure I got home. So there was that.

Anyone looking for a good kidney doc? I have a few recommendations.

But He's Pretty

Since I finally came out of dating hibernation, I really had to go on more than one first date. I matched with a guy who was very easy on the eyes and I was looking forward to meeting him. He insisted on a pre-date phone call which I loathe, but I did it anyway. He was a terrible phone person. Don't go suggesting that as a mode of communication when you aren't exactly well-versed. I remained open-minded and didn't dismiss him like I normally would.

Our first 'date', if you call it that, was certainly out of my comfort zone; I'm not one to go to someone's apartment on a first meeting, but the cubs game was on and I could guarantee I'd see every pitch. (I did leave the address with a friend in case I turned up dead in a dumpster) I was also granted the opportunity to judge his place without going on multiple dates.

When he opened the door, he looked exactly like my type and he wore a t-shirt and baseball cap so well. I knew I could as least look at him in silence if the conversation failed. Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened. I should have used the phone convo as a barometer, but I was giving him the benefit!! Talking to him was like pulling teeth and he didn't get any of my jokes (seriously??). He even had the gall to ask me what certain words meant; I don't have a Shakespearean vocabulary. I felt uncomfortable.

Somewhere during the 4th (or was it 5th) inning, I noticed that he was very close to me on the couch. I was definitely attracted to him, but had a good five innings to determine if he was dateable or not (the jury was out). His proximity implied something more to come and when he leaned over to kiss me, officer, I did not resist. Who could blame me? The kiss was good enough, but without the conversational spark, there was not much behind it. Luckily, baseball offered a much needed respite.
The next few innings went something like this: he'd kiss me and kept trying to round bases. I'd resist and insist on watching the game. He'd back off. Then the whole cycle would start all over again the next commercial break.

Me: "Listen, you don't even know me."
Him: "You can tell if you like someone pretty quickly" <-- he had a point
Me: "Ok, but we haven't even gone on an actual date" (wasn't counting this)
Him: "I'll take you to a nice dinner. Where do you want to go?"
Me; *sigh*

Fortunately, neither he or the game went into extra innings. I debated going out with him again (or for the first time) and he was kind enough to call and leave a nice message the following day. I just wasn't into it. You mean looks aren't the only things that matter?? Advice to my 24-year-old self...

His place was fine, by the way. He did decorate with extreme bachelor white leather couches which were simultaneously amusing and confusing.

Hey Chicago, What Do You Say?

I did what any sane human would do, I pretended dating didn't exist. I swiped from the comfort of my home knowing that the Cubs had a lot of playoff games and I wouldn't have to go on any dates. I matched with guys, I let them expire. I made a few pen pals who didn't take the time to ask me out.
I finally scheduled a first date with a guy who seemed nice enough and we opted to watch a game together which gave a very easy out for any dull conversation.

I got mixed reviews on this ahead of the date as I wasn't creating an environment that elicits conversation either. I didn't mind. I had the Cubs and could at least gauge the guy's sports knowledge while we were watching (did you know who's starting in RF??). I arrived at a local bar, punctual as usual, and snagged a prime viewing spot. I received a text 2 min into our date time saying that he was just catching a cab. I knew his general proximity which told me that he was going to be cutting it close to game time. I picked 38 min before first pitch so I'd have an out and could watch the entire game at home if I didn't like him in the first 5 minutes. Now he was cutting into that time. He was also late for our first date. Not boding well for the fella. When he finally arrived (26 minutes late mind you), he gave me a hug and reeked of cologne. Ugh. Missed my peace out window.

The game started and he knew who was in right field, not a total wash at this point. The conversation was slow to start, but we repeatedly fell back on the team topic proving my first date game plan to be a superior one. Now this first date came right after I took a month off from drinking which I knew would be interesting if I had more than one drink. He knew of my lightweight condition, but was completely unprepared when a single beer threw me into a full buzz. SHIT. I'm like really buzzed. I flashed back to getting drunk on icehouse for the first time in high school and remembered every single sensation that goes along with the creeping intoxication. I felt glorious. I felt like I was getting a beer buzz for the first time in my life (oh how quickly we forget) and then I'm sure I was talking nonsense and forgot about giving fucks on dates. I think he got more interesting or at least I thought he did and that's all that matters. He was talking pitch count strategy and ball placement (he was a college catcher) and I was easily impressed. Talk baseball to me.

I ordered a second drink and settled into a happy buzz and hopefully got a little more normal. I confronted him about being late, really late. He profusely apologized and had no clue just how long it took him to get there. He said he'd make it up to me. I then confronted him about that terrible cologne. Thank goodness I did! It turns out that he'd been thinking the same exact thing since his arrival. The bandannaed biker dude next to him was the culprit and biker dude was close to being my date if the fella arrived any later. My life could have gone down a really weird path just then.

My forward nature really broke the ice with my date and I think he finally decided to relax. I asked if he was even having a good time since he had his arms crossed the whole game. He was cold. Here, feel my hands. I told you. We made contact during the date which is always a good sign. After the game, he offered to walk me the block home and was sweet enough to hold my hand during the walk. My inhibitions were dampened and I allowed a first date make-out which was quite nice. In this case, I truly believe that the addition of alcohol to my lightweight self only led to better things. I was more blunt that usual and I stuck out the date even though I was mad about him being late. He took it well. That plus his sports knowledge is a good start.

Too Good To be True

Since date two was booked, I was never worried about when I'd hear from the guy. He was well-educated, athletic, well-spoken, and attractive and I couldn't wait for our next date. He was also bound to be flawed and I got hints of it when I had to confirm dinner the day before. Note to the gentlemen- girls HATE having to send that text. Are we still on for tomorrow? As simple as that sounds, please don't make the girl do it. Follow-up. You made plans. You can do it.

He replied with trepidation about the plan. He might be flying out of town for work that night, he promised to get back to me. Day of, he texted saying that dinner was a go. Great. By the time I got home from work, I had little time to get ready. I had an odd feeling that he was bound to cancel last minute so I sent a desperation text asking if I should be getting ready. He cancelled. Ugh. 

Again, don't make me chase you if you know the plan isn't happening!

He did travel on business and was gone through the weekend. He sent me a text as he was getting back into town and wondered if I was available that evening. Because I'm a certifiable hermit, I of course had no plans and agreed to meet him. He picked me up en route from the airport and even sent me the uber ETA to track his ride. I weirdly found this endearing. We went for dinner and the conversation flowed just as easily as the time before, I knew he was interested as he kept touching my leg while we sat which was a good sign. Both of us didn't want the night to end so we went for a post-dinner drink or few. Again, something about him made me so comfortable and allowed me to be myself (something that lacked in the doctor). The bar filled up and soon the mood went from Etta James to Notorious BIG. He knew all the lyrics to both and encouraged me to rap along to Biggie. Now I thought my guard was down, but something about rapping to a black man made me uneasy. He then leaned in to kiss me IN A BAR. I was nowhere near the cocktail limit to make that comfortable, nor was I 23 and in Wrigleyville so I acted kind of prudish and pulled away. Did I want to kiss him? Yes. Did I want to do it in a bar on a school night? Not particularly. 

He invited me to his place which I knew would lead to mischief, but I thought that the better option for an intimate moment. When we arrived, he immediately joined me on the couch and proceeded to full on makeout with a fervor I was not expecting. He tried to press it and I was just not in the same mindset. I had a bedtime which I was way past and I was pretty sure he was more buzzed than I was. Not necessarily the atmosphere for a romance. Anyway, I did the adult thing and called it a night and enjoyed sleeping alone in my own bed.

Then I didn't hear from him... I had mixed feelings as I was a little put off by him last date, but also wanted to get back to our first date chemistry. I reached out with a few paltry attempts to get another date on the calendar though he didn't take the bait. I sort of gave up and tried to go back to swiping. I didn't feel like going on another date with someone new.  He finally suggested a last minute meeting in between his late night at the office which I was hoping would settle the whole thing. He stopped by and we watched the Cubs game in between comfortable conversation. He again made me feel at ease and this time, didn't try to mount me in the process. I remembered why I liked him in the first place, but warned him that I wasn't going to chase him.

Our hangout ended; I didn't hear from him. I didn't text him either. Weeks later I received a ambiguous "plans for the weekend?" text with no conversation to follow. By that point, I was nonplussed and had no interest in pressing the issue. If a guy wants to see you, he will. Even if he's busy, he'll take time to send a text. In this case, he barely did so. He's not that into me. And that's ok.

This Dating Thing is Hard

It's kind of difficult to write a dating blog when you don't generate any material. The swoon-worthy guy of May turned out to be a dud. My checklist is going ever strong, but I haven't found the a guy who I really enjoy. Update of the last blog entry- the doctor turned out to have the worst bedside manner and was a total disappointment when it came to acknowledging strep throat and a 104 fever (no joke). That coupled with the fact that I couldn't truly be myself around him didn't leave me much incentive to continue the relationship. He argued with me over the tiniest of things which made being around him quite exhausting. This even held true when he kept me on the phone for a full hour when I tried to end our LESS THAN 10 date relationship <-- can I even call it that?

After dating the doctor, I took months off from going on first dates; summer in Chicago is tailored for singleness. I pretended that I didn't notice the fact that it had been months. I got back on the bumble and swiped my little heart out for most of August. I rarely messaged the guys and let our love matches disappear within 24 hours. I wasn't that into it. I went on vacation, I broke my foot, I returned to consider the impending cold weather. I should start going on dates.

I finally met up with a guy who had all the potential of a future husband. We went for a brief cocktail as our schedules would accommodate only that and we didn't want to prolong the first date. He was finishing up a work call when he arrived and texted to that effect. I was a bit annoyed but would later discover that was his modus operandi. He entered the bar profusely apologetic and informed me that this would be the longest stretch that he'd be off his phone (2 hours!). Ok, clearly this guy was a workaholic which made me question our future together. He was funny and laughed at most of my jokes (not even my closest friends laugh at them all) which made me comfortable enough to tell stories about myself. Something about him brought up childhood stories deep from the vault and I discovered that he and I shared similar summer pastimes. I was relaxed and in my element and found the time speeding by. We talked about our favorite restaurants in the city and he invited me to go to his on our second date (a man who PLANS). I was excited. With that, he had to call the date and I swear I hadn't been on a better first date. The known cutoff eliminated the possibility of one too many drinks and gave me a brief window to assess his potential. I was smitten.

I called several girlfriends because the only thing I wanted to do was gush. This NEVER happens.

Sunday Kind of Love

Peter pan did not deter me from finding my soul mate on Bumble. So swiping I went. I matched with a fella who attended school in my hometown (points for being smart and not a jock) so we immediately had common ground. I was pleased when he asked for my number and a date without becoming a pen pal first.

He picked a day and even texted leading up to it so I was already surprised. When he suggested a trendy place for a drink at 6pm even, I knew I'd be home in bed by 9 and could count on my tried and true date out. Set the bar low, people. He arrived a few minutes early (as did I) and had just found a semi-cozy table perfect for conversation. After the introduction, he asked if I wanted to eat because he was planning on it. Typically, I would have said no, but that initial chemistry was there and I had never dined at the establishment. Food is the way to my heart.

We moved to the bar and found easy conversation with the bartender. The place had lots of seafood options in addition to meat and when my date suggested oysters, I basically fell in love. He picked appetizers (trying to be polite, I neglected to tell him I didn't eat cheese) and kindly served me portions. My feelings about this chivalry can be noted in my Canadian dates.

Because I lack both shame and game equally, I ordered a big hunk of meatloaf for my main. He got the ribeye. This was quickly escalating into a fancy date. He was a good sport about my athletic appetite which has never guided me into ordering a salad on a date to seem dainty. The food was fantastic, the conversation was easy. He talked about commuting for work which prompted me to ask about his profession; doctor. Somehow I missed that on the bumble profile??? So the man wasn't socially awkward, enjoyed shellfish and a fine meal, didn't judge my hearty appetite...oh and happened to be a doctor??

I think I can work with this. As much as the doctor appeal would hold dollar signs for many, I was more elated by the well-educated implications. We finished our wine and meal and he asked about my bedtime. It was nearing my bedtime, but the appeal of continuing an already pleasant first date was too great. I said it was close, but I could stay out. I'm already giving up sleep for this man?

We ventured to a nearby bar and savored beverages until the bar turned into a nightclub; it was getting late. He asked about my bedtime again (polite, not pressing) and offered up another locale. Dive bar on a school night provided the perfect backdrop for sustained conversation, and a jukebox meant I could judge his musical taste in an instant. We took turns choosing songs to impress (ok, maybe that only my perspective) and eagerly awaited the lone patrons' reactions to our picks. He had admirable taste, by the way. It was getting later. We agreed to call it a night and walked to catch a cab outside. Now some might think that we ended up having a sleepover but I assure you, he was a perfect gentleman. He hailed a cab and took it the wrong way to drop me off at my house, ending with a polite peck. At this point, our date had made it a record 7 hours and I passed out immediately. I received a text that he sent on his way home, "I wanted to tell you I had a great time tonight. Looking forward to seeing you again." Swoon.

You Smell Like Teen Spirit

My second date assessment was that it felt comfortable hanging out with him, too comfortable. It was as though all the beginning date appeal had gone out the window and we were well into our third year of dating. That year being one in my early 20's. I longed for an actual date with actual date questions about family and travel. Who would have thunk?

This man-child was definitely not reading the same script. Would date two even be considered a date at this point? or would I be best-served to classify it as an encounter? Cue me trying to be amenable. Our next hangout (there was one) stemmed from an impromptu text asking what I was doing and did I want to come out. I, being an adult, was just finishing gardening all Sunday afternoon so I was indeed available. Great. He asked for my address and asked to pick me up. Not bad, I thought. I can be spontaneous. Pick-up time in 10 minutes. Be ready, he said. Oh and he's with his friend, if that's okay.

I can be happy-go-lucky! I'm not going to let him think that I'm assessing this situation in any other way. Once I got into the uber, I could tell that these gentlemen were rounding an extremely fun Sunday. Actually, I had to profusely apologize to the driver for their childlike behavior. BE FUN! We went to the same bar as the week before because clearly mayor status can only be obtained through consecutive visits. The guys danced like idiots which did amuse me and I vowed not to appear uptight in any way. I did refuse to take any shots because it was afterall, 7pm on a Sunday and ain't nobody got time for that.

His friend rightfully sent himself home and I was attempting conversation with the survivor. He ended up getting into an argument with me insinuating that my football bar was actually "his" bar and that my friend and founder of the football fan club was only friends with her friends because of him. Not only was that blatantly incorrect, but it was also infuriating as I couldn't have a coherent argument with this man. I discovered that I knew his long-term ex through said friend and he asked me to never ask my friend about him. Sure, that's reasonable. What would you expect any female to do armed with this sort of information? (For the record, I did not ask her about him till he was no longer a factor.) I left that Sunday proud of myself for being spontaneous and with little less than party boy expectations of the man-child.

Hey, he might be fun to have around. By this point, I was sure no romance was abound, but I did agree to go out with him again. I like to dig my own grave, ya see? This time he actually made a plan! Days in advance! I was kidded into thinking he'd make an adjustment. We went for pizza. I didn't wear heels. He wore torn jeans and an ill-fitting striped Abercrombie polo. Yep, exactly what you're picturing. I couldn't refrain from making a comment. He argued that because he wears a suit and tie every day, he should be able to do what he wants outside of work. My whole "appearances account for judgments" argument fell on deaf ears. I just shook my head.

And that was the end of the man-child. I did invite him to another funday in the coming weeks, but ignored him to enjoy the company of my far more mature friends. He showed up wearing another Abercrombie polo and sported sunglasses worn on the back of his head. Old habits die hard.

I learned that although my twenties were a most enjoyable time, my thirties dictated the need for a very different type of man.

Ease Into It

Date one did not instantly lead to second date planning, but I knew I'd see the guy again. I did not, however, expect that plan to be another last minute text to hangout. I'd usually have reservations about removing the whole "I'm too busy for an impromptu plan" facade, but I did have a great time on our first date. I also told myself to relax and just see where it goes, which is increasingly difficult in my progressing years.

My definition of a date was surely in contrast to his as I agreed to come over in sweats to watch playoff hockey. I'm an avid sports fan and certainly enjoy catching a game, but the lack of pretension on date two was a bit unsettling. I went for it. This is the new carefree me! Thank goodness my post-college "sweat" attire consists almost exclusively of lululemon; thank the lord for the creation of athleisure wear. On the way, he texted me reminding me that I did not have to be dressed up. Ya think??

When I walked into his apartment, I was reminded of the mention of a roommate so I had to ask if he was home. Now if this isn't a red flag for a man on the other side of his 30's, I don't know what is. But I vowed to keep an open mind. He was, afterall, quite good-looking and a lot of fun so far. He obviously got the casual memo as he donned Abercrombie sweats and a well-worn college sweatshirt. Right. I was instantly transported to my college, post-college years which filled me with nostalgia. If only he offered me a Natty Light leftover from last night's kegger.

At least we could watch sports together...which is what we did. His team was clearly going to lose which I guess prompted him to change the direction of his evening. I can't recall the last time I had a guy just go in for a make-out with no indication of interest, but I guess my presence alone was enough of a go ahead. I'm actually chuckling as I write this because wow, hindsight.  He pulled the "come over and lay with me" move circa 2005. Maybe he wanted to rekindle our bar chemistry? I obliged because man-child or not, he still looked as he did and I give some credit for his charisma. We had a proper couch make-out until we heard his roommate coming home. Again, waves of nostalgia flowed over me. I was 25 again! Thankfully, it was getting late and I had my trusty bedtime out. He assured me that it didn't matter if his roommate was around because he'd leave us alone and he's "never home anyway". Why is this even an issue for a 36-year old man??

I left his place convincing myself to not be so dismissive and to give him another chance if he asked. By partaking in the couch session, I had willingly let him believe that I had some sort of feelings for him. It wasn't that I didn't like him. I did. I liked his company and he did keep complimenting me. I also toyed with the telling of the "here's how we met" story in the future which would make for some good conversation. Think about the wedding toasts! Somewhere inside this cold heart lies a hopeless romantic who can be blinded by even the reddest of flags.

Bringing That Old Thing Back

After recovering from my indigestion, I was ready to get back on that bumble scene. I had been chatting with another handsome man after date 2 had fizzled and had been real phone (not app) texting all weekend. Something about him looked very familiar in his pictures and I racked my brain to figure out if we'd been on a date in the past. After some serious consideration, I realized where I've met him before!

With that, we continued to talk and a Sunday morning text turned into an impromptu brunch date on his way back from the airport. Once I met him, I knew that I had definitely knew this man. Surprisingly, I wasn't one to divulge this information off the bat. We endured a fairly long wait for brunch, but found easy conversation over coffee; he even brought me a kitschy souvenir from his trip. All the first date jitters were completely absent and that level of comfort allowed me to be myself.
Once we sat and ordered a midday cocktail, the weight of my secret knowledge proved too much to bear. I looked and him and said that we've met before to which he exclaimed, "I knew it!" His memory was just as foggy, but he said he knew the second he saw me that I wasn't a stranger.

I did, however, recall the exact time we met and under what circumstances. Thanks to my relentless pre-smart phone, photography skills, I used to take millions of pictures with my digital camera. Yes, that included snaps while out and about at the bar, documenting many a stranger on the way. I pulled up facebook and dug through the archives to present exhibit A: a photo I had taken with him almost 10 years ago. He looked the same. I had transitioned through many a hairstyle and waistline since then. I then recalled that we not only took a photo, but we had several bar make-out experiences at that time. To be young...

After the air was cleared, we sleuthed our way through tons of mutual friends and hangouts and realized that it was incredulous that our paths had not crossed along the way. This connection instantly upgraded this from an online date to a friend date and all the pretense went out the window. Wait...shouldn't we still be trying to impress one another? We finished brunch and opted for a new locale, his Sunday hangout (which apparently was a big deal). He was clearly a bar regular here knowing every female in a 20 foot radius, an ex-girlfriend included. I would have normally been at least a bit uncomfortable, but the past and friend link really alleviated all insecurity.

After achieving mayor status, he decided we should move on and possibly invite friends who were out. I agreed opting to include my support team as well. And this is how our first date turned into a group date. Which was really fun! Meeting friends is usually left to dates 4 and beyond, but this early introduction made me feel at ease. Besides, I had my go-to to assess the situation immediately without having to Monday morning quarterback. Our friends got along swimmingly (even staying out later than us as a group) and I was hopeful for a second date. 2 for 2, bumble.

Peaked Too Soon

After the end of the second date, I adopted a completely blase attitude toward the guy. I searched for some sort of longing for a text, only to realize that I really didn't care either way; I wasn't all that jazzed about seeing him again. He did text and did ask for another date and I agreed. I suppose I should have declined if I was losing interest, but one thing I learned from Aziz Ansari is that you don't really get to know someone until dates 4-5. I was heeding his advice and giving this guy a chance.

He suggested another Saturday night date this time to share yet another favorite cuisine of ours, Indian. Now I don't put Indian food anywhere in the date-food category, but we both love it and I was steadily losing interest. I really had nothing to lose. I bumped the date to an early 6pm for a Saturday, giving me ample chance to leave and meet friends if things got hairy. Upon seeing him, the date one flame had formally fizzled. The restaurant was lively enough for the old bird dinner hour and I knew I could at least direct the conversation to people watching.

He got points for giving me free reign of the menu since I had lots of suggestions on what we should order. The service was painfully slow for a date that wouldn't end and I sat bored while listening him talk about who knows what. It's amazing how quickly perception of a situation changes once emotions (and alcohol content) are limited.

I was happy once the food arrived so I could focus on the task at hand and really had no choice but to stifle conversation. So I ate. And I ate. And I ate some more. I ate my fair share of naan and much of my main. Even as I was starting to get uncomfortably full, I reminded the waitress of a forgotten appetizer because I was planning to make the most out of this meal. This is another reason I firmly blacklist Indian food from dates; I simply cannot stop eating it. Had I cared about being lady-like, I would have stopped once I felt the slightest bit full, but I was well past that point. The curries and pungent flavors lured me in a way no man could.

I then had an epiphany. This was my out. I would eat my way out of this date. I would eat to a most uncomfortable level and then insist on going home because I felt ill. This was all-too-easy of a task. My dinner companion stopped long ago, but I wouldn't be deterred by an unworthy opponent. I did finish my entire entree and well as all my rice as well as most of the unnecessary appetizer. I was in a tailspin straight past food coma and into physical pain. I insisted that I ate too much (duh) and couldn't help it (partially true) and that it'd be best for me to call it a night. He suggested we "walk it off" for a bit and my pitiful attempt at relief only sustained me for four blocks. He finally acquiesced when I almost sprinted after an available cab. I had to go home. He understood. I apologized profusely (white lie) and he replied, "I know you'd stay out if you felt better." If he only knew.

Of all the ways I've tried to get out of dates, this was by far the best tactic. Sure it came with physical discomfort, but it also came with mountains of baingan bharta and garlic naan. I was overly full, home by 9, and out of spending the rest of the evening with this man. I pat myself on the back.
He texted the next day to see how I was feeling (I know what you're thinking). I had made a full recovery and he asked me on another date for the coming week.

I responded with a direct and what I consider polite response, "I think we peaked on our first date."

He responded, "fair enough."

Indeed it was.

High Expectations

After falling in love, I was counting down the days till our second date. I met with friends to watch basketball and found myself smiling every time I received a text message. I spilled about my date and they were all supportive of my budding relationship. My date was scheduled post-game and I realized that I'd have no time to get home; he offered to pick me up in a cab and then go to the restaurant. I mean, really!
When he arrived, we kissed hello and only experienced a few moments of awkward silence. We decided on a pre-meal cocktail which took us to a divey bar close to dinner. Within a few sips, I realized that this guy talked. A. LOT. Like he hadn't let me get in a word since I got into the cab. Maybe it was my unrealistic expectations or my lack of wine, but I found myself wondering if I could spend the rest of my life listening to him ramble. I realized that I was likely over-analyzing the situation and vowed to enjoy my Saturday night. He did snag a prime spot after all!

We finished our apertifs (can beer be considered an apertif??... I doubt it) and headed towards dinner. I liked that he walked on the street side and always went in front to make sure he was opening and holding the door for me. Good manners are hard to find these days. Even though he made a reservation, the popular restaurant pick made us wait to be seated and that visibly annoyed my date. I donned my most insouciant attitude and diverted his attention with witty banter. My forte.

Once seated, I eagerly awaited trying my fresh-from-Tokyo sake that I decided to bring for the occasion. Husband potential warrants a splurge. Once poured, I incessantly talked about the qualities of the product and even shook my head at my own pretentiousness. He laughed. We agree on sushi selections and when served, were able to enjoy the meal in ample company. As dinner went on, however, I was realizing that the sake wasn't providing the lusty haze of date one wine and I kept feeling more irritated than stimulated by my companion. This too will pass. I vowed to keep an open mind and not dismiss him as I normally would. By the end of the date, I rationalized that I was overthinking the situation and that maybe another date would break the tie.

Low Expectations

Having been on multiple disappointing first dates, I try to set the bar extremely low for future ones. I returned from vacation and decided to download Bumble after a friend's success rate. Compared to match, Bumble actually has attractive, accessible men! The whole "women message first" concept is enlightening and allows me to reassess a match before texting. I was pretty swipe happy and made some split second decisions in the first day of downloading.

I did, however, match with several good-looking and seemingly normal men. After chatting with one, I scheduled my first bumble day within days. My friend's "babe" approval built some anticipation though I maintained a relatively low excitement level. We met for drinks on a weeknight and even his slightly nerdy attire (khakis and a polo, straight from the office) didn't put me off in the initial minutes. He was cute so he instantly gained some leeway in that department; I could change him.

We got to talking about our recent travels and I was happy to find that he also had a case of wanderlust. He was culturally aware (huge) and had even worked abroad for a portion of his career. This was a good start. We enthusiastically discussed our favorite destinations and cuisines and easily connected over our interests. He also cited that though early, he'd see us as admirable travel companions; I agreed. We talked about the summers of our youth (him: the cape, me: summer camp) and shamelessly shared awkward stories.We continued to talk about everything and nothing well past my bedtime and 2 glass limit. He impressed me with his extensive vocabulary and didn't have to ask me what a word meant.
I wondered what our babies would look like. (I was past my wine limit)

The conversation was so rapid and easy and something I hadn't experienced in a long time. We even ventured to a bar across the street, ran into a friend, and continued into the double digit hours.  I had all the feelings on this first date and even allowed a bar first kiss. How gauche! He asked my weekend plans and scheduled a second date within the same week. I was so excited.

The next day I met my bestie and downloaded the date play-by-play. She was in complete agreement that I was basically in love and ready to plan my life with this man. I never have these kind of first dates!

Breaking Hearts, Breaking Records

Post my non-relationship, I felt the need to get back out and date. I was also planning on a vacation so wanted to get something in the books before I left. I went back to trolling match when I got a very straight forward message. I think it said something along the lines of, "I like this and this about your profile. I'd like to meet you in-person. Would you like to grab coffee with me on this date and time?"
Having read about my previous experience of intro emails, you can understand why I was immediately intrigued. I checked out his profile and assessed that he didn't look like a serial killer from his one picture so I agreed to last minute coffee post-workout. I gave no fucks about being sweaty as that's my natural state.

I arrived early and ordered my own coffee to-go thereby ensuring that I had an escape plan if needed (I wish I was that clever). I grabbed a table close to the door and waited. Once he arrived, I understood that the single picture was a sure sign that I shouldn't have agreed to meet him. I swear I was being catfished. Normally, I give a good minute or two to reach a snap judgment, but this one was done within seconds. Activate escape plan. I immediately greeted him with, "Hi, I'm so sorry, but this is going to have to be short as I have a furnace guy coming over." I'm a terrible liar but having just met him, I went for it. Within the initial conversation topics, he asked where I was from then proceeded to tell me that Baltimore was just infested with druggies and homeless people. Ok that's only partially true, but how rude!

He then asked me when my last relationship was and why it ended and why hadn't I found someone. I was impressed with his ability to be so daft about dating in such a small time frame. He asked me if I read books to which I replied, yes, a lot of non-fiction. He responded with "That's odd. Women only read fiction." I balked. He back-pedaled saying that don't they all read things like "50 shades". Again, was he serious with this shit? I countered saying that I had not, in fact, read that because I heard the writing was poor. Instead of letting it go, he continued asking me if all women were "into that". He was clearly implying the S&M, dominant/submissive thing and I ran out of replies. I simply said, are you seriously suggesting that as a topic of conversation before 11am?

I knew I had to end this soon so I just said, "I'm going to go." He bolted before I got out the last syllable and I swear I saw cartoon dust tracks as he scurried. Thank goodness I bought my own coffee so I wouldn't feel guilty about ending the date after 15 minutes. SET A RECORD. So there's that.

O, Canada!

No, it hasn't been 2 months since the first date with the Canadian, but I've actually been too work busy to blog during my 9-5. My second date, however, was a good month after our first one. I appreciated the fact that he planned and made a date ahead of time in the midst of his travel.

The anticipation built and I had high expectations of this date. He made a dinner reservation and I had the perfect reason to dress up. The Canadian was just as handsome and I remembered and the conversation picked up comfortably. Once we were seated, we had identical rapport with the waiter and were in complete agreement with the laissez-faire approach to ordering (blindly having the waiter choose our dinner). I was pleased to find that he had an equally adventurous palate and impeccable table manners. You'd be surprised. He also served me which I found quite refreshing. Actually, I can't think of another occasion where a man actually took that kind of initiative (checklist professor included).

We continued easy conversation through dinner and 2 glasses of wine and when he suggested one at his house, I broke my rules and obliged. In spite of my dentist's predictions (yep, he's a reader), I swore there would be zero kissing on this date, but the wine swayed my decision elsewhere. Once at his condo, he let me choose from a copious selection of wine and poured us glasses. I wavered in this awkward stage of nervousness and inevitability before we settled on the couch and watched lord knows what on TV. I felt like a middle schooler on the brink of a terrifying hand hold in a movie. Thankfully, he finally leaned over and kissed me and... there was NOTHING. No sparks. I wasn't even looking for fireworks, but had expected something. He wasn't a bad kisser, but within a few seconds it was evident that there was zero chemistry between us.

Yes, he was intelligent. Yes, he was good-looking. Yes, he had a fantastic body. Yes, he's well-traveled. He even made it to the second date without me completely dismissing him! Unfortunately, no amount of checklist items can fabricate chemistry. I debated going out with him again, but there are some things that can't be ignored.  I know some of you are reading this thinking I'm crazy, but you either have it or you don't and I'm a firm believer that my partner and I will have it off the bat.

Use Your Words

The Canadian and I texted back and forth while he traveled the country and we finally booked our date for weeks in the future. I appreciate a man who plans like that.

In the meantime, I maintained a secret relationship. Yep, you can have those in your 30’s. I met a guy through mutual friends before Christmas and ended up taking him to a friend’s holiday party. The theme was “festive” and he gainfully obliged arriving in a full santa hat/mask combo. I appreciated the enthusiasm. He fell into step with the party crowd and even shared tasteless jokes with my friend’s husband. Alright, this guy might have potential. We stayed out (too) late into the night, which turned into the morning. In our hungover state, I asked a million questions and was surprised by the candidness in his answers. I had already put him in the undateable category (hence a sleepover), but thought that maybe I should reconsider.

As the holidays passed, we kept in touch and I was looking forward to seeing him again when I returned. So I did. I saw a lot of him. That said, we never actually went on a date. Being deep in hermit mode, I was quite content with my Netflix and chill relationship. I still didn’t consider him dateable because I didn’t feel intellectually matched and would get easily turned off when he asked me what a word meant. Even as I write this, I know the old adage that opposites attract, but I couldn’t get past a lot of it. I’m also at a point in life where I won't waste my time dating someone I wouldn’t marry so I was at a standstill.

This non-relationship was, however, quite comforting in that I didn’t have to put on pants and could be my genuine self without a care about trying to impress him. I started to get used to having someone around and that was really nice. I also got to share meals and cook for someone which brought out all my suppressed domestic tendencies. I realized that I wasn’t going on other dates because I liked spending time with this guy who I liked more than I admitted. That said, I never felt pressured to have a “what are we” talk and was ok with that.

Though this went on for some time (great timing in the winter), I couldn’t overcome the cultural or educational differences. I know the infamous checklist shouldn’t haunt me as such, but how could I build a life with someone who has never heard of leeks??

Yes, he was sweet. Yes, he was nice to me. He was also a communication toddler. Use. Your. Words. He would get frustrated at the smallest of things and instead of talking about it, would storm home in a huff. He couldn’t plan farther than a day in advance which wore at my planner propensities. (Canadian? 3 weeks in advance.) He was a terrible texter and the fact that he never asked me out really started to bug me. You should WANT to take me out! I even told him (in my direct fashion) that I would like him to plan to see me and he quipped that making plans stressed him out.  That’s not a thing.

I read some buzzfeed/huffington post/facebook post something along the line of “you’re an option, not a priority” and all the signs were there. Motherf*cker. I’m an option to someone I don’t even want to date?? The more I thought about it, the more aggravated I got. I thought I was better than this. And I am. I stopped responding to texts in a timely fashion. I maintained a laissez-faire attitude about the whole thing and then he started picking up his game. Do guys have a sixth sense for this shit?

He even went so far as to make plans for Valentine’s weekend in advance. I was already moving on, but decided it’d be better than spending it marathoning romantic comedies. He cooked. I judged. I was over it. I wish I could pinpoint what exactly he did wrong, but sometimes you just stop feeling it.

Now let me call Drake so he can see his hotling bling. 

You Only Live Once, That's the Motto

First off, sincerest apologies to all my friends who have bugged me to update this blog. I have been a bit of hermit the last month or so and realized that you actually have to leave your house to date.

That said, my match account has been lagging and I’ve terribly ghosted on several date planning texts simply because I didn’t want to put on pants. The struggle is real.

Thankfully, my first date of the new year was brunch which prevented me from having the I’m-taking-a-month-off-from-drinking discussion day one. Apparently, guys will judge you for things like that. My date arrived early and snagged two open seats, which I appreciated in my ravenous state. He was well dressed and rocked a sleek hoodie with blazer combo that few men can actually pull off. Aside from his outfit, he was also better looking than his pictures and I felt none of the first date uncomfortableness.  

I’m a girl who enjoys a substantial meal so I was tempted to judge him based on his order (egg white omelette) seeing as I got the steak and eggs, even the food runner got them mixed up. Yes, I eat like a grown man. That aside, I found out he works out as often as I do (plus) even though his workouts don’t compete on the crossfit scale (what does?). We talked about our interests and I discovered that we not only shared a love of travel, but we actually shared the same professional field; I refrained from talking about work. I found out that he had also been to my future travel destination so I pressed him for suggestions.

I continued to assess the situation thinking that maybe he was giving off a bit of a gay vibe until I found out where he was from. Canada. Oh, you aren’t gay! You’re Canadian! Made total sense. Actually, I was really happy to find out that he not only wasn’t he gay, but he wasn’t American which makes my odd checklist. That also explained his penchant for international travel. I also learned that he hailed from Toronto so I was basically on a date with Drake (yes, both are black).

Our date lasted through a bulletproof coffee, 2 cups of tea, and countless glasses of water, which in drinks date terms would amount to 3? I took this as a sign of a good date. I thought Drake was as easy to talk to as he was on the eyes and we parted with the expectation of a date to follow. That brunch didn’t suck.