I am bad at dating. No, I am. Really bad. Mainly because I swing between having my guard up and so concretely and impenetrably in place that there’s no chance of a first date going any further than that; or I am so utterly and absolutely available, contorting myself into what I think might make me more alluring that it doesn’t have a hope either. I know why I do this and I’ve done a lot of working through it and this year, in my year of yes, I’m doing things differently.
The other night I went on a first date with someone who seemed really nice. We met through an online dating site (I still feel slightly embarrassed saying that, even though that’s how plenty of people do it) and he sent me a couple of really nice, mildly amusing emails and asked me out straight away. I like a man who doesn’t mess about.
He texted me just beforehand to confirm we were still on and I headed out to meet him. Knowing that a lot of men are generous when putting their height on their profile I wore low wedges as a opposed to my much prettier, but much higher skyscraper heels. Glad I did because he wasn’t as tall as he claimed. Now, before I get labeled as height-ist I should point out it’s not the height it’s the fabrication of same. Anyway, normally I would have decided that was it, but I didn’t. I checked myself and remembered that I’ve been out with plenty of tall guys who were complete jerks.
We sat and chatted easily straight away. He was dressed nicely, smelled nice and I was relieved to find that the occasional whiff of pickled onions that I thought might be him, was actually coming from the leftovers on the table next to us. I relaxed into the evening after that.
We had dinner and it was over by 9.30pm (leave them wanting more I once read.. although in this case it was because I was tired and had to head out quite early the next morning). He walked me to my car and in that awkward “what will happen next” few moments that happen at the end of every single date, he not only asked me out again but confirmed the date. Both of us having children, and as luck would have it, opposite weekends with same, we organized something a week and a half in advance.
It was the nicest date I’ve had in a long time, I felt like he wanted to be there with me and there was no bragging, bravado bullshit. Just a really nice time. When I got home he texted to say he’d had a nice time and was looking forward to seeing me again. Pretty good right? And I decided not to do my projecting into the future thing or my extra needy texting him just so he’d text me back thing and it felt pretty good.
Two days have gone by and I can’t help but let a little of my old behaviour in.. “why hasn’t he texted, did I do something wrong, is this another first date that I’ve misinterpreted, am I thin enough, was there something in my teeth” etc and so on. It beggars belief that I’m still single, doesn’t it?
Anyway, in the spirit of dating differently I’ve decided just to leave it. If we go on a second date that would be lovely, if we don’t then I can just chalk this one up to experience (and a blog post) and enjoy the fact that I had a really nice time with a nice bloke. There are worse things in life after all.