I had a date tonight. It was my first “real” date in about two months, I think. I’m not exactly sure about how long it’s been, I guess I could check the blog archives and come up with an exact date. And there has certainly been some date-like activity (but that’s so another story and probably not one I’m going to tell for a while).
Anyway, this was a date that I wasn’t sure I should accept. He did not meet my basic criteria (he lives in the burbs) but there was something about him that made me think…maybe. We both just seemed to be in the same place in our lives right now. Kinda almost.
So we made plans to meet at the Campbell Apartment, a place I love. It seemed like a good idea since he was going through Grand Central anyway. But it was too crowded so we ended up at Pershing Square across the street. Not the same vibe, at all. Whatever.
We got a table and had a pleasant enough, completely awkward chat. He’s a nice enough guy. I’m a nice enough woman. It was all very nice. He looked and seemed quite a bit older than the 44 he claimed and he mentioned, more than once, that I seemed much younger than 39.
There was a part of me that wanted to make a quick exit. He was just so NOT my type of guy. And every once in a while he said something truly cringeworthy. But he had a lovely smile and, well, seemed really genuine in a way that so few people do, anymore. Like he had no filter. Like he really didn’t care if I liked him or not. Which of course made me start to like him a bit.
And then, about 90 minutes into us chatting, as our conversation lulled, he said, “so I’m trying to figure out how we’re a 93% match”.
I smiled and said nothing.
“93% is really high. We must have answered a lot of questions the same way.”
I continued to smile. It started to hit me that the only reason this guy was SO into me (he was rather relentless, sending me several messages a day) was because of some silly questions I answered on an online dating site.
I giggled a little and said that it was only a bunch of silly questions and that I didn’t take it seriously. And then he said something to the effect of, “oh, sure” and dropped it.
The funny thing is that it wasn’t a bad date. It wasn’t a good date but it wasn’t a bad date, either. Meh, maybe I’m just out of practice?
Tags: first date