Tuesday, September 26 2pm
I finally sobered up enough to write todays post. When I got to work this morning, I could barely keep my eyes open because I was up until 3am last night finishing the bottle of wine I opened the day I started this blog. And, appropriately, I finished it with on my couch with none other than PilotB- the reason I got caught up in this to begin with.
First, may I please point out, I have never been on a blind date, much less, met up with someone I began communicating with on a website expect to sell a ticket off craigslist. The only thing I could potentially compare "blind" experience to in my life was the one time I promised some guy, while slightly intoxicated, that I would be his date to his birthday party the next night at level, and had to hide across the street when I called his cell to tell him once I was there, because I had no recollection of what he looked like and needed some indication when he walked out of the bar. Yes, this happened.
Going into this "situation" last night my head was more than clouded. In the 6 days that have passed since I last talked to B, I have received, read and responded to hundreds of profiles and emails from Match bachelors. Hundreds. So, needless to say, when I got his text yesterday asking if we were still on to get together before he flew out for the week, I hesitated, and said "sure". But I wasn't sure. In my head, I asked myself, what if this is a huge mistake? Between the hundreds of pictures, texts, ims I had been innundated with, that initial excitement, and flat out interest, had somewhat faded in the shuffle. Guys seemed cuter, smarter, wittier, more successful. What if he is totally weird and a huge looser? What if he thinks he's totally funny, but in reality, he's just socially awkward?
As I sprinted to the gym for a last minute workout in denial that I was actually about to go out with this guy, I sent a text asking what he felt like doing. When his recommended a hole in the wall bar down the street, I think that may have been the point that panic, fear, and regret set in. Between rushing home from spin class and somehow get showered and ready in 40 minutes I didn't even have time to be nervous. But, when I was finishing my makeup and he sent a text saying he was on his way, I could feel my heart start to race, and my stomach sink. This was it. Go big or go home.
So, I pop a xanex. This could potentially have either been the best, or worst, idea. I'm still deciding.
I get down to my lobby and there he is. His picture, in 3D. He's wearing something pseudo hipsteresque- tight light grey pants, which I kind of dig, a black and grey striped v neck, and a black jacket. He's smaller than I imagined, but kind of perfect in a way. I walk up to give him a hug, and.... he reaches out his hand. Awkward.
So we start walking, no destination in mind, in the misting rain. We chit chat about our neighborhoods, he tells me he doesn't quite know my area area quite well. (really? River North?) My worry about how awkward this night might be sets in further.
But it wasn't. Its always a good sign when the conversation is so fluid and constant that your waiter keeps coming over to take your order and you have not looked at the menu because you're lost in what you're talking about. This is how the rest of the night continued. We were probably two of the only people left in the restaurant come the time we finished, and I honestly was enjoying myself so much, I didn't want the conversation to end. So what else is there to do than head back to my place?
There was some drinking, there was some talking, there was some pandora... some standing on my balcony. I'm still not quite sure why, but something about the whole thing made me feel strangely comfortable. Blame it on the two glasses of wine and the Moscow Mule I had on our date, because I'm not quite sure what gave me the comfort level for eventually inviting this stranger into my apartment. That first night that we talked, we on the phone for 2 hours, and he made some joke about the experience of feeling like we were in high school. To be honest, that sums it up pretty well. There was something innocent about the late night high school phone calls, just as there was something innocent and awkwardly wonderful about kissing him for the first time. There was also something about the entire situation that seemed strangely creepy. Like, is this person really who he says he is?
All in all, I would say my first Match date was a success. I could have done without the hangover today, but this was definitely the confidence boost I needed to get this ball rolling for bigger and better things. And by bigger, I don't mean 43 year old divorced guy with two kids from Wilmette, who keeps asking if he can take me to club Paris.
What a warm up. Bring it.
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