If you get the title of this blog, you’re as old as I am. If not, here’s the jingle.
Dating site: Plenty of Fish
Stats: Never married; no kids; no pets
Work: Higher Education
The Prof has a master’s degree loosely related to relationships. I have a diploma for a 6-month correspondence course for real estate sales. I’m impressed by his intellectualism on the page and in person. And, rather to my surprise, I’m not intimidated by his higher education. Yay me!
I am well-versed in love and relationships, both through my own study, research and practice after all. Good for me for holding my own or―maybe more importantly―thinking that I did! #confidence
The Prof and I email back and forth a bit and then text back and forth for a couple hours one evening with little communication in between these focused exchanges. I prefer concentrated attention rather than scattered, random bits of texting that offer little depth but plenty of interruption. And the philosophically dense conversation was interesting. It was unlike most conversations that start with unravelling boring facts—where do you work? how long have you lived in X town? do you like to travel?—that are more interesting to chat about in person with animation.
My primary love language is evenly divided between “physical affection” and “quality time,” but my touch need is reserved for after the first kiss. The focused attention and stimulating content of our text exchange is what encouraged me to meet him.
I ask if he’d like to go for coffee, cocktails or “even a meal.” He suggests beer and snacks. We make arrangements and meet at a moderately priced restaurant near my place. We share a pizza. He has a lager. I have a glass of wine.
I ask the server, “What do you have that’s close to a Pinot Noir?”
She tells me. I order that. I don’t ask the price. (Significant.)
We talk for a long time. He alludes to a rough financial past. There’s the slightest edge of bitterness, or perhaps regret. He pays. Kudos to him for that. I offer to buy next time. I walk him to the Skytrain Station. We hug. End of date.
Q: Was that an exciting story or what?
A: Or what.
The Prof did his research on me and knew I’d be writing this, so kudos to him for having the confidence (courage?) to go on a date with me. He’s got a healthy sense of self to take such a risk and must appreciate the honest feedback.
Note to the ladies (and me): When a man does buy you a meal, don’t order the most expensive thing on the menu unless you can afford to buy it for yourself. I didn’t ask the price of the wine because, based on the venue, I knew I could afford it. Nonetheless, be courteous and respectful to your date by not assuming he’s got big bucks and whammies.
Sidebar on #4: I had an awful conversation on the phone with a man who seemed great on paper, by text, and via email, but I discovered through our conversation that he’s got a shit-tonne of healing to do about a recent, heart-breaking experience before he’ll be ready for a healthy relationship. My heart goes out to him, but “I don’t believe in forgiveness” is a deal breaker for this love child.
Interested in knowing more about love languages and how to get more love? Let me know in the comments!
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Vancouver Dating Coach for Shy Guys & Introverted Men. Matchmaker Liaison. Founder: Wingmam