a weekend with strangers, part 2:#31

This was my thirty-first first-date (since June ‘06). I’m going to give him a really exciting name: 31.

* * *

My first-date with 31 was — very good.

Today began with a nightmare (see the last section of the previous post), or at least a very upsetting dream. It ended with a terrific date.

Because we hadn’t, thank god, had a lot of flirty, bantery emails beforehand, I wasn’t in that silly state of mind I’d been in with RB, in which I was on edge with anticipation of a strong candidate for The One (well, to be accurate, probably the Third or Fourth One in my life).

31 and I had had one fairly brief phone call, and a series of light, pleasant emails. Because I hadn’t written back after his last one, on Wednesday, I sent him one this morning (Saturday 20 January) saying I was looking forward to tonight, and he wrote back saying he was, too, and sending me the restaurant’s address again.

In order to dispel any possible fantasies of The One, on the subway there I kept telling myself why it was not likely this date would work out: I might not like his looks; his sensibility might be too different from mine, too California laid-back perhaps; we might not converse well together; my anger at Performer or my distress about yesterday’s shrink might somehow manifest themselves in my conversation; the restaurant might be cold or noisy or whatever….

* * *

None of those things happened.

As I walked in, I saw him seated at the bar. He gave me a huge smile and came over to greet me with one of those New-York-cum-flower-child-style embraces, that’s sort of a kiss but not quite. The first time a new date did this I was surprised, but now I’m familiar with this variation.

He was large — tall and on the heavy side (remember, I don’t like scrawny men) — and had teddy-bearish good looks.

* * *

Only minutes after we had sat down at the table, he told me I was beautiful.

* * *

Because I’m really not beautiful (though in a dimly lit place when my hair has just been professionally done I can look pretty good), I wondered if he said that just to be nice, or to make the date go well, or – why? Anyway, it certainly didn’t hurt. And one moral is: always sit opposite the date: don’t sit adjacent to him. All the times I’ve been called ‘beautiful’ or ‘pretty’ I’ve been sitting directly opposite the man at a small table.

* * *

conversations we didn’t have

– What has been your experience with jdate/ match?

– Hillary or Obama?

– How long have you been divorced?

* * *

I think just about every first-date I’ve had since May, and that’s maybe 18, included conversations on all three of those toics. I kept waiting for one of them to surface tonight; I was even holding the Hillary – Obama one in reserve myself in case conversation flagged, but it never did.

You can imagine how relieved I was not to hear about all the jdate women who claimed they were thin and turned out to be fat, who claimed to be young but were old, and whose pictures were lovely but whose faces were ugly.

No jdate war stories! Yay!!

* * *
So we talked about — well, stuff: his work, my work, funny little stories from both. There were lots of funny little stories, in fact. And we had both done our homework: I had read an article he mentioned he was interested in, and he had read something I had written. And we talked about both.

Really, I think we had about equal talking time. There was a very good to-and-fro in the conversation. Now, I’ve had that before, with almost every man I’ve had a second date with, so it’s not the first time. But it’s a sine qua non as a good sign for the future.

* * *
It was an understated kind of date: we met at 5:30, and we parted around 8:15. He didn’t accept my money as payment for my part of the meal (we ate more or less the same amount, though he had more drinks), and he walked me to the subway.

* * *

We have a date for next Saturday.

* * *

Please keep your fingers crossed for me.

* * *

Maybe I should ask the aerobic Woodstock guy from the rocking synagogue to do some prayer-jumping-jacks for me.

I’m hopeful but I’m also superstitious. I’ll take any kind of help.

* * *
UPDATE
I forgot that I’d already given 31 a name; he was in SDF in this post . I’m not sure which name to use; will see what I feel like the next time I post — he’ll be ‘formerly known as’ one of the two names.

Rolly’s shrink called early this morning — Sunday — very decent of him. I’m seeing him again next Friday.

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