Dating Site: match.com
Kids: two; grown & gone
Work: government; upper management
We agree to meet at a lounge-y—uh, well—lounge near my residence.
It’s raining. I sold my car. I walk. It’s only a few blocks away, and the rain squishes the traffic exhaust fumes into the greasy pavement. The air is fresh, refreshing.
It’s Thursday at 5:00pm, so the venue is empty when I arrive, and my date is easy to spot at the bar.
He stands as I walk toward him while shaking out my umbrella. He sticks out his hand to shake mine, but I swoop in for a hug instead.
“Oh, look how handsome you are!” I say. “This is a nice surprise. Not that your photos weren’t good, but you know.”
It’s too dark to see if he’s blushing, but he looks down and away while trying to refrain from smiling at the unexpected compliment. I quickly learn this is his autoresponse to compliments, which is endearing. Humble. Check.
After the host takes us to our table, I slide into the booth seat (facing the venue) while he sits in the chair opposite me (with his back to the venue). Seating arrangements are significant. Details to follow.
Meanwhile, the chair he sits on sinks under his weight, and he’s now sitting with his head level much below mine.
“Let’s switch sides,” I offer and he accepts. Both our actions are significant. Details soon, I promise.
I’ll skip the specifics—we were together three hours—but will point out the important stuff that you care about—or should if you want to be successful in love.
I have one glass of wine. He has three beers. (Three hours, remember.) We share a charcuterie (fancy name for: cheeses, meats and accompaniments). We chat.
He tells me “his story” (sorry, confidential), but it’s not unlike many I’ve heard, maybe even yours, and now he’s “looking for the right one.” (Significant.)
“My story” includes how I’ve taken a relationship sabbatical but am ready to date again, though with the disclaimer: “The next guy to bed this gal, weds this gal—I’m not interested in casual sex.” (This gets a hesitant chuckle and a raised eyebrow.)
I change topic: “What would you do if you won $10,000,000?” (Significant.)
He replies immediately, snapping his fingers for emphasis: “I’d quit my job and travel.” (I raise my eyebrow.)
At the finish of the evening, he offers to walk me home, but I decline—significant—so we hug and I tell him I had a good time and would like to see him again. Which is my bad. Why? Because … I regretted it as soon as I said it.
I did enjoy his company, but. But. I did not want to kiss him, and he’s my first real fake date, after all. I’ve got another 49 fellas to date, and right now, I am willing to set aside exactly three hours a week for a Plus One. Most men that are looking for long-term love want a bit more than a few hours a week with a “no texting—I loathe texting” condition attached, and since I’m not interested in casual sex … well, I shouldn’t have said I’d like to see him again. (Even though I was following my own dating rule: Don’t write off Mr. Potential Right just because you don’t want to get naked with him immediately.)
Genuine modesty is attractive.
Wanna date me? How-to details and my conversation with Jane, Matchmaker For Hire, here!
P.S. In my next 50 First Dates blog update, I’ll let y’all in on why The G Man impressed me right off and made me want to meet with him, which also happens to be what impressed me about my second first date with Slouching Stargazer. Stay tuned!
Vancouver Matchmaker and Dating, Love and Relationship Expert