Well, that sort of changed. I actually went on a date. Sure, it was set-up by a friend from the office -- to a guy I didn't know, except from a photo and by my office mate's recommendation and for some reason, reason escaped me and I agreed to a blind date. This is also known as my first date ever.
And you know what? It wasn't bad at all. In fact, it was too good. Though I have zero dates to compare it to, it wasn't awkward -- even if I was 30 minutes late. and there was no dead air and he was really interesting (and seeme to be interested back).
We have a few friends in common, so there was that. But he was really smart and well-read and had a lot to say about a lot of things. I can usually see through bull shit and I felt like he was pretty sincere. And though I was probably too out-of-body-experience about the entire thing, I think I would have felt weird if I knew he wasn't having a good time.
Name it, we probably talked about it and at length. From quarter life crises, to film an tv and our favorite movies and our worst subjects and some physics and chemistry and the uber smart friends we have and the frustrations and even porn, we covered quite the breadth of topics so in my head, there's something here at least. Or he could just be really friendly and amiable.
So three hours and two bathroom break later -- with all the food wiped out (and he ordered a lot so we'd have options), it was time to say goodnight. And as he walked me to my car and we waited for valet to take it away, I was thinking, "am i showing him that i'm interested?" because apparently, I can be pretty aloof if I want to be. But I wasn't aloof. I'd like to think, I was my most engaging self.
But probably not engaging enough. I wasn't expecting a kiss or anything, but we touched cheeks and said goodbye and if it weren't for the "hope you got home alright" niceties, I probably wouldn't have heard from him at all.
So the next day, coming off from my first date non-failure high, I tell my close friends about it and everyone's so happy for me and I'm happy for me, but I'm trying to play it cool. We don't know if it's just me after all. So we wait, and I wonder and we wait some more.
And now, weeks later, without a peep, I find out (after I ask) from my friend who set us up, that he had a good time and enjoyed but just wasn't that into me.
And as cliche as that sounds, it's true. And yes, I am thankful the first date ever went well -- it could have gone worse, but I can't deny that I wish it progressed better. For the girl who's built up the first date (after 26 years) into something to look forward to, and then it lives up to it, I couldn't help but hope for more.
Though I played it cool and avoided social media stalking (I'm proud to say, I held off), I am a tad sad. You cannot force attraction, but I thought there was something there. ANd I guess it was better that he just cut me off cleanly, I still wish things had gone differently. A second date would have been nice, but a new friend would have been good, too.
Still, I'll silo that night off from the rest of the narrative and remember it as a good time. It will come when it comes. I'll just have to keep working on the patience bit. And we all know I'm very bad at that.
*and no, there wasn't any kissing involved. it just struck me that this was the line that stuck with me from Annie Hall -- which he recommended I watch