For better or for worse, things are back to normal. Why not kick things off with another coffee date? Actually, in this case, I went out on a limb and suggested brunch. How bad could it get? Eggs benny to go?!
This date arose from match.com instead of that dried-up pond known as Plenty of Fish. Despite being one of the top dating sites for straight folks, match.com shares my track record with the gays: we just haven’t attracted them. Since joining at the beginning of January, three interesting men have messaged me. Sadly, one lives in Edmonton, Alberta. Another lives in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and the third lives outside Denver. Apparently match.com gays are unfamiliar with Google Maps. Needless to say, I passed on this trio. Thanks for the interest. Unfortunately, we’re a ways off from perfecting teleporting. Oh, what could have been!
The bright side of all this is that it makes a ninety-minute trek into Vancouver seem like a mere blip for a brunch date. Messaging Kevin seemed perfectly reasonable while I await an email from some guy in Cleveland. Admittedly, Kevin’s main profile pic was the original enticement. What’s not to like about a fit fifty-year-old whose body and smiling face belong in a Land’s End catalogue? His profile expressed an interest in meeting a similarly aged man who keeps in shape and enjoys an active life. And then there was mention of his passion for writing. Hey, match.com, maybe this could actually be a match. Anything is possible, at least until the waiter announces the breakfast specials.
And so I hopped on the ferry this morning, full of anticipation, moderated by a track record that contains a glaring absence of second dates. Somebody’s got to break the losing streak. Why not Kevin?
Brunch passed nicely enough. Interesting conversation easily digested with some particularly tasty pancakes. Hmm, what’s that added ingredient? Butter?! Oh, to think I’ve banished that from my fridge at home. I may have to do some rethinking.
In the meantime, I am left to rethink the date itself. It seems that I have failed miserably in accurately gauging these first dates. Seems I’ve become less picky and blinded with an optimism that a second date shall come to pass. And, as I’ve already noted, my feelings have been all wrong or at least entirely one-sided.
In replaying parts of the encounter, I can’t recall Kevin flashing that smile that had originally dazzled me in his photos. Was I too serious? Did I fail to convey a sense of humor? Gosh golly, what are the chances that he was just nervous?
As we parted outside his condo building, shielding the rain with our umbrellas, there was no kiss, no hug. Such a gesture is plain awkward with our parasols, is it not? I should not read anything more into the lack of affection, right?
“I’ll be in touch,” he said. Not a lot to go on. Still, it’s a tad more promising than “See ya” or the monosyllabic “Bye.”
There’s a glimmer of hope isn’t there? Or should I start to look at real estate in Baton Rouge?
I just don’t have a clue anymore.
UPDATE: It’s early evening and I am waiting to board the ferry to head home. I texted Kevin to see if he wanted to get together again. Kevin replied by saying, “I enjoyed our conversation. I like you and think we have a lot in common. But, to be honest, I’m really looking for that spark of chemistry. I did not get that.”
So there you go. Mrs. Redmond, my high school Chemistry teacher, has come back to haunt me. Of course, this is all code for a lack of physical attraction. Makes me wonder what the point is in swearing off butter. Think I’ll make a trip to the grocery store as soon as I get home!
And then I’ll go online again. Maybe someone’s hiring in some part of Louisiana.
Drat, drat, drat. (And that’s putting it kindly.)