2 dates, 1 day, so different...

I'm back to my old tricks again... lots of dates, lots of names flying around...  yesterday I had a lunch date and a dinner date.  And both went well.

Both are at least 10 years older than me.  Both are divorced. One has two kids in college.

Let's talk about that one first - he shall hereinafter be referred to as Soccer Dad.  We met online - OKCupid is my site of choice these days.  A few very funny email exchanges, and we found ourselves at a lunch spot walking distance my front door.  And his front door.  Since over lunch we realized he lives 6 doors down from me.  And, by the way, he consults for a colleague of mine.  She called while we were at lunch. It's a dang small world.  So he may be 10 years or so older than me, but he'll finish a half marathon a half hour before me.  And he plays on four different soccer teams.  So what if his kids are in their twenties?  

We batted around some topics, but were both guarded over lunch.  Why does it take a drink to make conversation go more smoothly?  I was nervously chatty.  Soccer Dad was dry, dry, dry.  In a good way. Conversation moved at an uneven pace, and yet at the same time I wanted to talk to him more.  I can't figure that one out.

Where is Soccer Dad now?  Using his frequent flier miles to accompany a friend to a trip to Hawaii.  Rough life.

Soccer Dad treated me to lunch, we walked back to our places, then he posed the "so now what?" question as we stood outside.  I understand this to be the equivalent of "I enjoyed lunch enough to want to see you again.  But rather than be direct... I'll put it on you!"  We're going to find some batting cages or putt-putt, so we can see what happens when our competitive side comes out. 

Then a few errands later, I find myself getting picked up by the Latin Lover at my house.  He called to tell me he was on his way. He opened the door for me to get in the car.  He took me out for a cocktail before dinner.  We talked about sailing and his life running charters until he straightened up and came to the U.S. for college.  We went over to dinner.  I laughed at him because he forgot his glasses and couldn't read the menu.  I found out how old he his, how he likes to critique food, what he wants his next career to be, why he got married and divorced, what he thinks of his father's girlfriend, what he enjoys for an after-dinner drink and many other surprising things.  He took my hand as we left the restaurant and went for a walk.  He freely discussed what we would do next time we went out... He kissed me at the end of the date, on my front doorstep, and left. 

(He did let me split the dinner bill, and I know it's disingenuous when I offer expecting him to refuse and then judge him when he accepts. But judge I do.)

Latin Lover was confident and casual.  Worldly but learning and interested.  I'm intrigued. Our next date may be a day trip to the neighboring wine country.

There's a few more dates coming up... and I haven't stopped thinking about my trip to A-town, and the Super Hero is in touch lately planning his next trip out here.  When will I have time to think about finding my new job?  I might just be a boy-crazy teenager for a living.

but I'm lover not a dancer

Last night I went to a big swing dance party -- and aside from being the least coordinated women in the entire room (of those willing to get out on the dance floor anyway), there weren't many men to meet.  Actually, I really like it that way.  I like to DANCE, and the best dancers are not necessarily the guys I would be attracted to and want to date.  Though I must admit, I thought Mr. Nice Guy would be there (he RSVPed on Facebook).  He wasn't.  Ah well.

After a few good turns on the dance floor, a nice conversation with Blue Balls (he was there, oh yeah...), and the realization that I really just wanted to get home, I grabbed my coat, put on my scarf, and stopped by the host stand to see if they validated parking.

So I'm waiting at the host stand, with my parking ticket held out, and some dorko-suav-ay sidles on up to me and tries to strike up some small talk.  I asked him how he liked the dancing, and he replies... "oh, I'm more a lover than a dancer." 

This guy could play Steve Jobs younger, dorkier brother on TV.  

I did not laugh in his face.  I did not falter, I just smiled and found some way to change the subject.  Then I tried to find some kind of escape, and failing miserably (I was still trying to get my parking validated) -- when I'm-A-Lover-Not-A-Dancer foisted his card in my face.  

Oh dear.  He's probably a wonderfully nice guy.  And dork.  And such.  Do I call?

(love) song... or... why can't I sing this at karaoke?

I left A-town, to drive up in my big fancy rental car to visit the family - and I (thinking without much coffee in my system) put on the Ingrid Michaelson song "Mountain and the Sea."  Have you heard it? 

"You call me a mountain and I call you the sea.  I'll stand tall and certain and watch you swallow me. You can move me if you want to...  You can move a mountain...  You can move everything..."

That doesn't seem like much of a love song, but my trip to A-town put something... someone... in front of me and the depth of my emotion for and attraction to him was sort of surprising.  I've mentioned him in this blog.  He knows who he is.  He might even read this.  And he should know there is this (love) song coming his way. 

(love) because...  well, I certainly love him.  But when I say that, I don't mean romantic-walk-me-down-the-aisle-together-forever Love.  I mean the you-know-me-backwards-and-forwards-laugh-at-our-flaws-could-hang-out-with-you-forever-talk-about-anything-my-friend (love).  We could have gone a lifetime with that kind of (love) and never crossed the boundary.  That is, until we kissed.  

Now I wonder what happens when you throw a twinge of damn-I-like-kissing-you to nearly fifteen years of friendship. 

Ah, risk.  I have no fear of risk, no fear finding out what this (love) leads to.  But there are two people in this equation.  He may be quite right that there is no long term potential here, or maybe he's just writing it off because it is easier than (in his mind) putting the friendship on the line.  I know the friendship will always be there.  (love) doesn't get thrown by the wayside when you take that kind of chance.  The chance we would take would either bring us something really amazing, or become an amusing tale in the lexicon of what makes our (love) so great.

It's out there now.  In the meantime, he'll do a little housecleaning (literally) in case I'm back in A-town next month.  I'll keep on dating (oh, OKCupid you amuse me).  Then we'll go back to friends who wonder, and don't kiss. I suppose.

"But until then, oh my darling friend, I will hold...  Yes, I will hold on to you."

I will not hit "delete profile" until I've had ONE date

I did it.  I went online. And I bucked convention - I skipped jdate and went straight to OKCupid.  Caution to the wind.  Seriously.

For those of you married folk who are living vicariously, OKCupid has these tests you take... like purity tests, personality tests, what kind of geek are you tests, and all kinds of weird user-submitted tests.  And it's FREE.  Before I even completed my profile, I had my first "wink" -- and before I finished it, I had my first email.  "You're gorgeous.  What's your name? Do you have a racial preference?"  Sez he.   He has no profile, just a picture taken in the mirror in some military uniform that has so many medals on it that it he would have to be twice his age to have earned them.

I am still dinking around online.  Fifteen minutes later, he instant messages me.  "Why didn't you answer me?"  It's a brief conversation, during which I learn that he is IMing through his phone, which is sooo much easier than the computer, except that's why he hasn't filled out his profile.  Did you make sense of that?  Me either.  

Another one emailed, but he gets high occasionally and that ain't me.  He wrote back "you smoke."  which led me to find a very important error on my profile.  Under smoking (as in cigarettes), I had marked "trying to quit" -- OOPS!!  He couldn't spell on his own profile, but he found an error on mine. 

While reviewing my matches, I found one I wouldn't even look at. His profile name "2cheap4match" -- as if putting yourself on OKCupid isn't a sufficient declaration.  And why exactly would he brag about this?  It just struck fear in me that I would, in fact, find men who were cheap versus the men who paid the matchmaker big $$$.  You would think there is something to my rationale here, but maybe applying logic to use of dating "help" is a lost cause.

I did find two seemingly ordinary, interesting men.  Jewish even.  I emailed them, bland, one-liner emails that clearly showed I actually read their profiles.  One I asked to play Scrabble since he likes board games (among other thigns).  The other I asked about the carved Halloween pumpkin in his photo.  

Believe it or not, I did use much of the profile I put in the other day.  But shortened to a "10 things you need to know about me."  And took out the stuff Joe College told me was overkill.

And I promise, despite the flotsam now filling up my inbox from guys I never want to meet, I will not delete the profile until I've gone out on a date with a least one guy from OKCupid.

The irony of my timing in going online, is that my Latin Lover called today and the Matchmaker coughed up a potential new match (after I left her a message to ask her if she was going out of business).  

I might have forgotten to mention the Latin Lover. Last Saturday I went to a bar with my friend M -- she's a lovely women, svelte figure, Israeli looks, which strikes a sharp contrast to my fair complexion, straight strawberry-blonde hair and curves.  It's fun to go out with her.  And for whatever reason, at this one bar, we caught a lot of attention.  The Latin Lover is actually a distinguished man in his forties, with an interesting career involving the environment.  I'm about to head off to my hometown for ten days, but we'll be heading out on a date when I return.  

When it rains it pours.