Charming, but single

A journal in dates and drinks

The first date

I was running late. I’d stopped for a second at work to freshen up my make up and run my fingers through my hair, which I’d begrudgingly blown out in the morning and worn down all day, rather than twisting it up in a clip and bobby pinning it against my head. I was sporting a knee-length pink skirt and a thin black sweater with three-quarter length sleeves with Enzo Angiolini sandals with an ankle strap. But by the time I’d walked to my car, I was almost already late. I scrolled through my phone to find the IT Guy’s number to call and apologize and assure him that I was on my way. But to no avail. I hate the address book on my new cell phone – it is not merely enough to type the number in and hit “OK.” You must confirm the number with an extra “Save,” which I always forget. So, I fly out of downtown, lip glossing at red lights and cursing the whole way there. I nervously entered the coffee shop, almost 20 minutes late at this point; worried that he’d thought I’d stood him up. After scanning the place for a full 45 seconds, my eyes landed on the IT Guy, in the shirt he’d described, with a very inviting smile on his face. We exchanged pleasantries, he gave me a hug, I was taken aback by his friendliness. We headed over to order coffee and found a table out of the way. He was very talkative. Though I am quite the extrovert, I can be downright shy when in a social situation with someone who is so extroverted and loud and talkative. We chatted about the hurricane (he moved here post Katrina), work, about where we each liked to hang out and about bad TV. The IT Guy is very nice and easy to talk to. But he was also very excitable. In my head, I was thinking, “He reminds me of a Labrador puppy. Play! Play play play! Jump on your lap, and then scratch my ear, now here, let me lick your face, THROW THE FRISBEE! THROW THE FRISBEE! I got the frisbee! See! Got it! Why are you sitting down? Why? Let’s play some more. Here, pet me! Pet me!” And I like Lab puppies. But I would never own one. But before I got too deep into this internal monologue and wrote him off entirely, I decided to actually finish the date. He is 29 and divorced. He mentioned his ex-wife and in the context of telling a story about going on a trip. He quickly apologized. She had nothing to do with the story, he was talking about a show he’d seen and I think it just slipped out. I noted it moved on. I was giving him a wrap up of bars and restaurants I liked and I mentioned this fantastic downtown sushi place. Mid sentence he interrupted me. “So, you like sushi?” “Yeah, I love it.” “There’s a place across the street where we can go, if you’re hungry.” I was starving and sushi sounded just right. And I wanted to keep talking to him. But it was B’s birthday. And I’d promised him that I’d join a large group of people for dinner and drinks at 8 p.m. It was 7:15 and I needed to wrap this up by 7:45 to be at the birthday dinner on time. I started to make an excuse as to why I couldn’t go to dinner, but I stopped myself. I was on a date with a nice guy with a big smile and a great sense of humor who seemed very interested in me. He has a good job, is taller than I am and has that cuddliness about him that I love in guys. And I was about to leave to go to dinner for a guy who’d toyed with my emotions for years? Who takes my friendship for granted? Who broke my little heart into too many pieces to count and then put the pieces in a blender and made a smoothie with what remained? A guy who will never see me for the fantastic, intelligent, charming woman that I am? “I would LOVE to go get sushi,” I said to the IT Guy, with a hint of defiance that I don’t think he caught. So we headed over to the sushi place, settled into the sushi bar and ordered a round of drinks. The conversation was nice – I’d become accustomed to his personality and began coming out of my shell a bit. I was still slightly annoyed that he joked with the waitstaff so much. He thought it was cute to order, “400 of everything and three bottles of wine” and to jokingly try to send a half-eaten squid appetizer back. I wrote this off as mild dorkiness combined with nerves. Around 9 p.m. we finished dinner and he escorted me to my car. He’d done all the right things. Opened doors, complimented my smile, conversed nicely. I made a point to get his number correct in my phone and apologized for the address book snafu. We hugged and he sent me on my way. “Could we do this again soon?” he asked as he put me in my car. “I’d like that.”

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Charming, but single is 25 26 27(!), lives in the Southern part of the U.S.A. and likes both her drinks and her boys tall. E-mail (listed below) her and she may respond. You can also IM her in AIM/AOL. (If she ever remembers to sign on.)
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Former taglines of this blog: "A Journal in Dates and Drinks" and "A Dateless Journal of Drinking."

Those Particulars
Some Backstory
Memories of the Way We Were
Updates and Towel Snapping
One Year Wrap-Up
Just As She Is
An Open Letter to Myself
After 26 years, she HAS learned something
An Open Letter to the Men Who Message Me Through Match
Sharing a smoke

Associated Content Interview with Charming
The Hindu: Blog Sisters are here

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