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.)
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